light from the hallway silhouetting her massive form. Her balloon-like breasts were perched atop a leather corset, squashing her bloated mammary glands up around her neck. She wore a leather harness around her waist that wrapped up between her titanic cellulite smothered thighs and held a lethal looking plastic phallus.
“It’s playtime, Joey.”
The babysitter grinned lasciviously as she waddled towards the bed with her artificial penis slapping one thigh then the other. But her smile fell hard and shattered into a scream when she spotted the big dog snarling at her from Joey’s bed. Eyes catching moonlight and twirling it around its retinas like a kaleidoscope beneath a brow furrowed with rage. Muscles bunched up beneath its fur. Saliva dripping from long curved fangs glowing luminescent in the scant light. The huge Rottweiler sprang from Joey’s bed and locked its jaws on her throat.
Joey wasn’t afraid any more. He was ferocious as he tore into his tormentor. His mother had been right. Hades had protected him. She had given him her strength. Joey tasted blood as his fangs crunched down on the babysitter’s windpipe and tore it free.
Freddy was bored again. Slowly he slid slivers of wood into his anus shivering as the pain lanced up through his spine. He wasn’t quite sure why he was doing it, but he had nothing better to do and it did take his mind off the soul numbing boredom of his life. He’d read that they’d found six-inch metal pins embedded in Albert Fish’s rectum when they examined him after his capture. Freddy couldn’t find any pins that long, but he did have some pretty long sewing needles. They didn’t give him the same type of chills the splinters did though. The splinters set all his nerves on fire. Today, however, they just weren’t doing the trick.
Freddy started to chew his nails, but there was no nail and little flesh left on his half-cannibalized phalanges. White bone stuck out from the top of each savaged finger. Freddy started chewing bits of dried and dead skin from his index finger wincing every time his teeth scraped bone. That’s when he heard the dog; that over-sized, arthritic, asthmatic, poodle with the bleeding sores, and the whooping cough, that seemed to have been around forever. It was still alive! Freddy cursed aloud and slapped his hands over his ears to block out that horrible sound. Still, he could hear the dog’s phlegm choked, tubercular cough coming from the next room, followed by a hoarse ragged bark that lead predictably back to a fit of coughing. Freddy wanted to yell at the dog to spit that damn phlegm out instead of continuing to swallow it. Just the thought of it made him ill.
That wet strangled cough was the worst sound Freddy could imagine. It made his stomach roll with nausea and grated on his nerves making him want to scream. Freddy began nervously chewing at his own bleeding nubs ignoring the sharp prickles of pain that each bite sent through his nervous system.
Freddy blamed all his obsessive compulsive behaviors on that mutant poodle. He had been torturing it for years and still it would not die. It still whispered in his ears every night; planting post-hypnotic suggestions like...shove splinters in your anus or chew off your fingertips. He hated the thing.
Once, Freddy had been looking through an old photo album and had been surprised to see that damned dog in almost every picture going back to his great-great grand mother. He could not help but to think about David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam, who had claimed that his neighbor’s dog was a thousand-year-old demon who ordered him to kill. His grandparents had once lived next door to the Berkowitz family. They’d lived there right around the time the Son of Sam was rampaging across New York. Freddy was afraid that soon the dog would have enough control over him to make him a murderer too. He had to kill the thing. He’d taken a knife to it again yesterday yet the thing was still breathing and
“It’s playtime, Joey.”
The babysitter grinned lasciviously as she waddled towards the bed with her artificial penis slapping one thigh then the other. But her smile fell hard and shattered into a scream when she spotted the big dog snarling at her from Joey’s bed. Eyes catching moonlight and twirling it around its retinas like a kaleidoscope beneath a brow furrowed with rage. Muscles bunched up beneath its fur. Saliva dripping from long curved fangs glowing luminescent in the scant light. The huge Rottweiler sprang from Joey’s bed and locked its jaws on her throat.
Joey wasn’t afraid any more. He was ferocious as he tore into his tormentor. His mother had been right. Hades had protected him. She had given him her strength. Joey tasted blood as his fangs crunched down on the babysitter’s windpipe and tore it free.
Freddy was bored again. Slowly he slid slivers of wood into his anus shivering as the pain lanced up through his spine. He wasn’t quite sure why he was doing it, but he had nothing better to do and it did take his mind off the soul numbing boredom of his life. He’d read that they’d found six-inch metal pins embedded in Albert Fish’s rectum when they examined him after his capture. Freddy couldn’t find any pins that long, but he did have some pretty long sewing needles. They didn’t give him the same type of chills the splinters did though. The splinters set all his nerves on fire. Today, however, they just weren’t doing the trick.
Freddy started to chew his nails, but there was no nail and little flesh left on his half-cannibalized phalanges. White bone stuck out from the top of each savaged finger. Freddy started chewing bits of dried and dead skin from his index finger wincing every time his teeth scraped bone. That’s when he heard the dog; that over-sized, arthritic, asthmatic, poodle with the bleeding sores, and the whooping cough, that seemed to have been around forever. It was still alive! Freddy cursed aloud and slapped his hands over his ears to block out that horrible sound. Still, he could hear the dog’s phlegm choked, tubercular cough coming from the next room, followed by a hoarse ragged bark that lead predictably back to a fit of coughing. Freddy wanted to yell at the dog to spit that damn phlegm out instead of continuing to swallow it. Just the thought of it made him ill.
That wet strangled cough was the worst sound Freddy could imagine. It made his stomach roll with nausea and grated on his nerves making him want to scream. Freddy began nervously chewing at his own bleeding nubs ignoring the sharp prickles of pain that each bite sent through his nervous system.
Freddy blamed all his obsessive compulsive behaviors on that mutant poodle. He had been torturing it for years and still it would not die. It still whispered in his ears every night; planting post-hypnotic suggestions like...shove splinters in your anus or chew off your fingertips. He hated the thing.
Once, Freddy had been looking through an old photo album and had been surprised to see that damned dog in almost every picture going back to his great-great grand mother. He could not help but to think about David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam, who had claimed that his neighbor’s dog was a thousand-year-old demon who ordered him to kill. His grandparents had once lived next door to the Berkowitz family. They’d lived there right around the time the Son of Sam was rampaging across New York. Freddy was afraid that soon the dog would have enough control over him to make him a murderer too. He had to kill the thing. He’d taken a knife to it again yesterday yet the thing was still breathing and
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