Sadie the Sadist: X-tremely Black Humor/Horror by Zané Sachs Page A

chest. Not too deep, just enough to draw blood so it drips onto the table. I take Ranger’s hand and press his fingers around the box cutter, making sure to leave a clear print.
    Then I call 911.

Recipe: Rockin’ Rocky Mountain Oysters
    What are Rocky Mountain oysters? Testicles. Usually the testicles of young bulls, but you can use whatever balls you have on hand, or in hand as the case may be: sheep, lamb, turkey, whomever—keep in mind the younger the testicles the more tender the oysters. Soak the balls in water, peel, and wash. In the olden days, cowboys sat around a campfire and tossed the testicles onto a hot griddle, cooking the balls until they exploded.
    Warning: Many cultures say eating genitalia has an aphrodisiac effect, so these oysters may make you horny.

Rocky Mountain Oysters
    Ingredients:
2 pounds of testicles
    6-pack of your favorite beer (2 cans for soaking, 4 to drink)
    2 eggs, beaten
    1 cup flour
    ¼ cup corn meal
    Milk
    Salt
    Pepper
    Garlic powder
    Canola Oil (or whatever fat you have on hand)
    1 tablespoon hot sauce
    Preparation :
    If you have time, freeze the testicles—it’s easy to peel them as they thaw. If they’re fresh, you’ll need a sharp knife to cut off the tough muscle. After the balls are peeled, toss them into a bowl of beer for two hours.
    Add vinegar into a pot of boiling water. Parboil balls for a few minutes, drain, rinse.
    While the oysters cool, mix together eggs, flour, cornmeal, salt, pepper, garlic powder. Season oysters with salt and pepper. Roll each oyster in the flour mixture, dunk into milk, then back into flour mixture. For a thicker crust, repeat.
    Heat oil in a large pot, add hot sauce. Fry oysters until golden. Drain on paper towels. May be served with hot sauce, cocktail sauce, tartar sauce, or whatever you enjoy.

The Quiet Lady
    I’m not a victim, I’m a survivor. That’s what the trauma counselor told me when I went through the exam. They collected evidence for a rape kit, treated me for STDs and injuries, even drew blood to test for date rape drugs. I wonder if Unisom qualifies. In any case, there’s enough evidence to convict Ranger, no matter what he claims.
    But he doesn’t remember much.
    Out of the goodness of my heart, I didn’t press charges. The district attorney is disappointed. There’s not much she can do without me, because Ranger has no priors and there are no witnesses. I told her I’m not pressing charges, because I was horny and wanted to get laid. She says I’m suffering from shock.
    In any case, Ranger will never stand me up again.
    As a new employee, he was on probation for three months. Due to this incident, they fired him. It’s a small town, so I don’t think he’ll find another job. Around here a rapist stands out. I heard he’s returning to Albuquerque. They have lots of rapists there.
    My one regret: not killing him.
    Meanwhile, I’m laying low, spending time alone. I get enough of people at work, so on my days off I usually hunker down with a good book. (Right now I’m reading several, including The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle and Dark Nights of the Soul by Thomas Moore.) When I’m too tired to read, I stream shows on my smart TV. Breaking Bad is my favorite. Walter White experienced a dark night of the soul, don’t you think? But he managed to get out of it. At heart, I’m a scientist like Walt; I like to experiment. Cooking is chemistry. I’ve thought about following Walt aka Heisenberg’s example and becoming a meth cook, but there’s a lot of competition in that field. I think robotics is a better option.
    Like I said, I spend a lot of time alone, thinking. But lately I’ve been hearing from people I haven’t seen for a long time. The story of my rape made the Gazette. People I haven’t heard from for a million years call to see if I’m okay—really, they want to hear the juicy details.
    That’s why I’m here at The Quiet Lady Tavern, waiting for Krista and Tracy. We used to hang out together before