the strap around his forehead tightening it, so his head is held firmly in place.
“Now that gold tooth of yours, is it real or plated?” Chops asks.
The Mexican takes a deep breath moving his jaw from side to side and then spits toward Chops, it misses and lands on the concrete.
“Now, now. That’s disrespectful. I think we’re being quite polite to you so far. You could, at least, answer our questions.” Chops smiles at him maniacally, his eyes twinkling with delight at the pain he’s going to inflict.
“I ain’t telling you shit.”
Chops nods. “That’s what I thought. It’s plated. Shame… would’ve been nice to have made some money from you. Oh well.” Chops looks at Mad Dog, who smirks leaning in grabbing his jaw and pulling it apart for Chops to gain easy access. Chops picks up a metal thing and starts to wrench it, it opens wide and he shoves it into the Mexican’s mouth so he can’t clamp his jaw shut. Mad Dog still holds his jaw even though the clamp is in there just in case. My stomach twists at the thought of what’s about to happen. But like Mad Dog said, if I can’t stomach this, then I’m not going to be by his side, and I need to be. I’ve got to stick this out. Chops moves in as the Mexican moans and tries to struggle against Mad Dog’s grip. Chops moves the pliers into his mouth and grips onto the gold tooth to the side of his mouth at the top.
Taking a deep breath, I want to look away so badly, but my eyes deceive me and stay focussed on the torture. Chops begins to wiggle the tooth from side to side while the Mexican moans in agony. Blood trickles down from the gum, and Mad Dog snickers as the squelching sound of the tooth tearing from the gum turns my stomach.
“Almost there…” Chops declares as the moans from the Mexican become loud and grating on my nerves.
As Chops pulls the tooth free from its confines, blood spills to the back of his throat. He gurgles trying not to swallow the blood that’s pooling in his mouth. Mad Dog pulls the clamp free and he and Chops jump back from the Mexican quickly, obviously knowing what happens once you let go. He immediately spits the blood from his mouth. It doesn’t go far, mainly splattering on his knees and dribbling down his chin onto his naked chest where now, I notice scars that look like bullet wounds.
This guy’s no family man.
“You guys are fucking loco motherfuckers. I’m going to kill each one of you with my bare hands once I get out of here.”
Mad Dog laughs. “You’ll never step foot back on this premises, I can promise you that.”
“Then I’ll get you when you’re off site esé. Either way, you three are dead men. Seis pies abajo!” He spits out some more blood.
Chops shakes his head. “You’re still not going to talk?”
“What do you want to talk about? The weather? Politics? Your mama’s pucha?”
Mad Dog clenches his fist and slams it into the side of the Mexican’s face. A loud crack resonates through the Chop Shop, he groans in response and then his chest moves up and down in laughter. “You will get nowhere with me.”
Looking at Mad Dog, he’s furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw. I think he’s getting sick of this guy’s blazon attitude. If he doesn’t talk soon, I’m sure his torture is only going to get worse.
“Right, enough of this shit. Who’s José? And who’s his employer?” Mad Dog asks.
He shrugs and spits out some more blood. “No puedo hablar Inglés.”
Rolling my eyes, Chops and Mad Dog look at each other furrowing their brows.
“You can speak English, you dipshit. Don’t play games, or we’ll play them harder!” I demand.
Mad Dog looks at me nodding his head like he’s proud that I understood the Mexican. In my line of work, I’ve heard that line plenty of times before.
“Who does José work for?” Mad Dog asks moving in, shoving his fist into the still bleeding finger.
He moans out breathing harshly through his nose as he grits his teeth.
“Now that gold tooth of yours, is it real or plated?” Chops asks.
The Mexican takes a deep breath moving his jaw from side to side and then spits toward Chops, it misses and lands on the concrete.
“Now, now. That’s disrespectful. I think we’re being quite polite to you so far. You could, at least, answer our questions.” Chops smiles at him maniacally, his eyes twinkling with delight at the pain he’s going to inflict.
“I ain’t telling you shit.”
Chops nods. “That’s what I thought. It’s plated. Shame… would’ve been nice to have made some money from you. Oh well.” Chops looks at Mad Dog, who smirks leaning in grabbing his jaw and pulling it apart for Chops to gain easy access. Chops picks up a metal thing and starts to wrench it, it opens wide and he shoves it into the Mexican’s mouth so he can’t clamp his jaw shut. Mad Dog still holds his jaw even though the clamp is in there just in case. My stomach twists at the thought of what’s about to happen. But like Mad Dog said, if I can’t stomach this, then I’m not going to be by his side, and I need to be. I’ve got to stick this out. Chops moves in as the Mexican moans and tries to struggle against Mad Dog’s grip. Chops moves the pliers into his mouth and grips onto the gold tooth to the side of his mouth at the top.
Taking a deep breath, I want to look away so badly, but my eyes deceive me and stay focussed on the torture. Chops begins to wiggle the tooth from side to side while the Mexican moans in agony. Blood trickles down from the gum, and Mad Dog snickers as the squelching sound of the tooth tearing from the gum turns my stomach.
“Almost there…” Chops declares as the moans from the Mexican become loud and grating on my nerves.
As Chops pulls the tooth free from its confines, blood spills to the back of his throat. He gurgles trying not to swallow the blood that’s pooling in his mouth. Mad Dog pulls the clamp free and he and Chops jump back from the Mexican quickly, obviously knowing what happens once you let go. He immediately spits the blood from his mouth. It doesn’t go far, mainly splattering on his knees and dribbling down his chin onto his naked chest where now, I notice scars that look like bullet wounds.
This guy’s no family man.
“You guys are fucking loco motherfuckers. I’m going to kill each one of you with my bare hands once I get out of here.”
Mad Dog laughs. “You’ll never step foot back on this premises, I can promise you that.”
“Then I’ll get you when you’re off site esé. Either way, you three are dead men. Seis pies abajo!” He spits out some more blood.
Chops shakes his head. “You’re still not going to talk?”
“What do you want to talk about? The weather? Politics? Your mama’s pucha?”
Mad Dog clenches his fist and slams it into the side of the Mexican’s face. A loud crack resonates through the Chop Shop, he groans in response and then his chest moves up and down in laughter. “You will get nowhere with me.”
Looking at Mad Dog, he’s furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw. I think he’s getting sick of this guy’s blazon attitude. If he doesn’t talk soon, I’m sure his torture is only going to get worse.
“Right, enough of this shit. Who’s José? And who’s his employer?” Mad Dog asks.
He shrugs and spits out some more blood. “No puedo hablar Inglés.”
Rolling my eyes, Chops and Mad Dog look at each other furrowing their brows.
“You can speak English, you dipshit. Don’t play games, or we’ll play them harder!” I demand.
Mad Dog looks at me nodding his head like he’s proud that I understood the Mexican. In my line of work, I’ve heard that line plenty of times before.
“Who does José work for?” Mad Dog asks moving in, shoving his fist into the still bleeding finger.
He moans out breathing harshly through his nose as he grits his teeth.
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