Jinx had just finished pulling all of the bodies off the dancefloor and making space. The pile of disfigured corpses and limbs was stacked up on the right side of the stage and helped free up a sizable area. The normally pristine wooden surface still looked like a human oil slick, but it would have to do.
Sebastian finished unwrapping another gift to himself and brought the Ruger 9mm over to the dancefloor with him. The box also contained dozens of clips, one of which he immediately inserted.
“Alright, I’m having a damn good time, but we gotta speed things up. It’s getting dark outside and I’m sure there’s a lot of people who love and miss you guys. People who are going to soon start wondering where the fuck you are in a few more hours. So, let’s start with the ladies…”
Sebastian turned back to Taylor who was still sitting beside her gruesomely mutilated family members. “Honey, if I could just have you join me up here, I know this one is something that you’ve been pretty darn excited about,” he smiled.
Sebastian fixed his sights to the wall on the other side of the room. “And if I could please have all the gentlemen step off to the side. Just line up against the windows please, and don’t worry, we’ll be getting to you soon.”
The small sea of people pried themselves away from each other, crying and saying their goodbyes. Many of them didn’t want to leave each other, but in their hearts, they knew there wasn’t much they could do. Whatever twisted idea Sebastian had in store for them they’d have to participate or face swift execution. Their only chance at survival was total obedience.
“Cindy, Paula,” Sebastian said, locking onto the girls in the crowd. “You can both join the men. Since you’ve already competed earlier, I’m going to give you each a pass on this one.”
The blood-drenched, deflated duo trotted over to the sideline, not any more joyous or depressed than they’d been moments before. It was as if they were dead inside already; just pretty mindless meat wandering around without a purpose.
Perry looked at the pair as they came to a stop just in front of the men, recalling the hell that they’d been through. They both looked like they would never be the same again. He wondered if that would be the case for himself.
While Perry was grateful that he wasn’t going first, he knew the men were next. He eyeballed the lonely vacant bar salivating for the slightest form of escapism. The jittery janitor would have given his left nut to go over and fix himself a drink. I need a goddamn drink, just a little something to take the edge off. I need to get away from this insanity. Why the hell did I have to come in today?
Perry closed his eyes, moving on from his thirst. Instead, he pictured his quiet and boring apartment in his mind. The lights were out, the couch was old, the television was small, and the fridge was mostly bare. But the normally melancholic and always inconsequential room was the only place he wanted to be. If only he could tap his heels together three times and be teleported.
As outlandish as the sick day’s events had been, Perry knew that was still a ridiculous idea. His shoes might’ve been red but not in the manufactured and garish way that Dorothy’s were in the classic film. They were red from stepping through the hunks and reservoir of human filling that littered the ballroom. They were gory, not gaudy.
Perry found himself exiting his stupor while staring at the red glazing that coated his boots. Then, suddenly, the sound of Sebastian’s voice echoing drew his attention back once again.
“The bouquet toss has been around for hundreds of years. The odd tradition supposedly took off in England where various guests attending a wedding would try to rip off a little piece of the bride’s wedding gown or her flowers. The idea was that by stealing those items from the bride, the thief could somehow get her luck to rub off on them in the process. Then they too would be able to find both love and happiness…”
Sebastian carefully picked up a bouquet of extra thorny roses and looked at the mass gathering of terrified women. He handed the flowers to Taylor and she unknowingly grabbed them with a normal grip strength.
As the thorns unexpectedly plunged into her pores, she let go and whined under her breath. The vibrant red petals fell to the ground as her hot blood drizzled out all over them like a candy topping.
“Get those off the floor!” he screamed, lasering a dirty glare that could’ve burned a hole through her.
Taylor quickly used her leaky hands to lift up the bouquet, this time, much more cautiously. That thoughtfulness in handling them would mean nothing as Sebastian set his gun down on the table.
He gripped each side of his wife’s hands and applied extreme pressure, crushing down on Taylor’s palms and fingers. She cried out again as the thorns dug deep toward her skeleton and blood began to ooze rapidly. Her mitts were almost completely red now as the savage compression left fluid surging like Sebastian was juicing an orange.
“Don’t let go of them again until I fucking tell you to…” he ordered.
Sebastian took his hands off Taylor’s and twirled his maroon finger around. Taylor turned her back to the women as instructed and loosened her grip enough to unplug the thorns from the peppering of divots that littered her ravaged palms.
Sebastian then turned his attention back to the ladies. “Over the years, it evolved into what you see at most weddings today. A woman blindly tossing a cluster of flowers over her shoulder, and a bunch of her lonely friends battling it out playfully. But today will be a little different than the standard. Let me assure you, ladies, that there will be much more on the line than finding the right swinging dick to lay beside.”
Sebastian looked over at his aunt, Olga, and his niece, Nina, who remained still seated at their table. They were just a stone’s throw away from Uncle Ivan’s crispy corpse.
“Auntie, Nina, what the fuck are you waiting for? Get up! Neither of you are excluded from this exercise!” he screamed, picking up his gun again. “You’re a widow now anyway, and trust me, at your age, you’re gonna need a little luck with the fellas.”
They each quickly scurried into the outskirts of the crowd. There must have been over a hundred girls all squished together. All frothing at the mouth to find a way to secure the precious bouquet that was undoubtedly about to get flung into the crowd. Those flowers were the extension of life, at least for a little while anyway…
“Now, I’m sure you’ve all seen videos, or maybe even witnessed it a time or two in person. The one-off viral occasions where girls during these silly little contests go completely batshit in their attempt to secure these stupid flowers. Well, I can tell you that whatever you’ve seen in the past, prepare to zip past it because, today, the last lady holding onto this thing will be the only one of you that gets to live.”
A resounding horrified gasp let the wind out of nearly the entire room. Jinx loaded a fresh clip into the AK-47 and prepared a few others. The twisted jester was most certainly going to need them.
“It’s gonna be kind of like a game of hot potato, except you’re gonna wanna be holding the hot potato when it’s all said and done. And if you don’t all end up killing each other by the end of this thing, Jinx here will be ready to do some clean-up,” he said, pointing to the deranged figure cocking the rifle.
“I’m going to set my watch for ten minutes. Feel free to duke it out on the dancefloor or utilize the cutlery at your tables, but under no circumstances should you leave those areas. If you do, these bullets promise you won’t get far…” he cocked the hammer back and pulled the bomb detonator from his jacket.
“And don’t forget, should you get any ideas as a group, I’ll happily blow us all to holy hell,” he reminded them smugly.
He looked at Jinx and smiled before repocketing the detonator. “Oh, one other thing. These flowers are going to get torn to shit, so just focus on keeping the stems. I’ve tied them together firmly. So, don’t get caught up on rose petals laying on the floor, your goal is to be the last one with the stems stabbing into your hand. Okay, are you all ready?”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd of dread-filled females. Every last one was emotional and trying to prepare themselves to do whatever it was they were about to do. They were far from ready but had little choice in whether they’d be participating or not. They all understood that they were at the mercy of a maniac.
Sebastian looked at Taylor with an eagerness that you might see in a child waiting for the doors to open at the toy store. “Honey, let’s make someone the second luckiest lady in the room,” he said with a sickening wink.
Taylor didn’t hesitate or feel the slightest bit of pity in tossing the bloody bouquet off into the pit of suddenly ghoulish girls. Since the slaughter of her family, she’d only been thinking about saving her own Jennifer Lopez caliber ass. Friends came and went; they were expendable. She could give a fuck less if all of those bitches tore each other to ribbons as long as she gave herself the best chance at strutting out victoriously in the end.
As the scarlet saturated flowers arched over Taylor’s head and back to the small army of women, it felt like time had stopped. Their pretty raining eyes all saw the bouquet descend in slow motion. All the heartwarming and caring moments in their lives flashed as each woman prepared themselves for battle. Some by removing their high heels, others gritted their teeth, and most balled their fists.
A rainbow spectrum of endless fingernails burst upward toward the runny roses that were getting closer. As they entered the savage cluster, suddenly, the entire dancefloor snapped into a pinnacle of violence mirroring that of hardcore punk mosh pit when the chorus hits. White-knuckle fists swinging wildly but with even more reckless abandon—their fuel was entirely comprised of malicious intent.
DJ Buttaz had been sweating profusely while watching the scene unfold. He knew that their tormentor would want music to accompany the melee but Sebastian hadn’t provided him with any instruction.
It was incredibly important to his survival that he chose something the maniac would enjoy being paired with the bloodshed. Despite being the most disturbed man he’d ever seen, DJ Buttaz also noticed that Sebastian seemed to have a sense of humor. Banking on those slivers of his comedic personality shining through, DJ Buttaz reached across the pond and put the needle to a record that read: THE BENNY HILL SHOW THEME SONG.
It was evident at once that the hilarity of the goofy soundtrack was not lost on Sebastian. He turned to DJ Buttaz and connected his thumb and index finger to make a circle that left the remaining three fingers held outstretched. The symbol of perfection and approval allowed the disc jockey to exhale a deep sigh of relief.
Meanwhile, on the dancefloor and in the dining area, the sentiment was the polar opposite. It didn’t take any convincing for the ladies to be driven to violence. They had seen enough of the prior bouts to understand that if they weren’t holding the bouquet when the time was up, it would not only be their last chance at love but their last chance at life.
The overall barbarity was primal; souls who, for the most part, had never so much as gotten in someone’s face suddenly found themselves without morals. A gutted sensation ruined them as their hearts dropped into their bellies and everything they’d ever been taught was pushed aside.
The roses landed in the slender hand of a woman that the groom was quite familiar with. Sebastian had mentored Sarah for the last few months at work, but she wasn’t thinking about that anymore. Sarah seemed well aware that no professional connection would serve as her salvation. She could only save herself moving forward.
As the sharp thorny stems slashed into her flesh, a merciless skirmish sparked all around her. It was like feeding time for a pack of rabid wolves. The circle of eager guests that surrounded her quickly swallowed her up. Press-on nails snapped as they ripped away pieces of her dress, clumps of hair, and flower petals, but Sarah didn’t let go.
As a former high school basketball star, Sarah prided herself in keeping a well-maintained and sturdy physique. It was going to take more than some cat clawing and a few plucked follicles to stop her. Sarah pushed her way through the crowd of crazed girls like she was headed for a layup. They scraped at her skin and tugged her in different directions but none of them seemed stronger than her willpower.
Sarah trucked over a trio of frail elders who lined the perimeter of the chaos sphere and finally broke through. She quickly jumped on top of the vacated table that was closest to the wall. She’d kicked her heels off when the carnage had begun. It was a critical decision and allowed Sarah to use her feet to carefully land in the center of the tablecloth.
As the mob of floral junkies was mere yards away, she quickly analyzed the situation. There wasn’t much to go on, but as the precious seconds ticked away and the sinister brigade closed in, she calculated a long shot.
Embedded along the wall above Sarah, about a foot taller than she stood, sat a rippled, decorative trim. It stretched the length of the wall and the meticulously carved wooden design came out about five inches. Just far enough that her toes might be able to gain some shaky footing. A short distance above the trim sat a masterfully painted gold-framed nature scene.
Sarah wished she could crawl into the oil canvas and escape the war behind her. She’d run past the trees and flow down the running stream to freedom. But the reality was, she needed to be both extraordinary and intelligent if she was to be the one left standing when the time ran out. Wishful thinking sure as hell wasn’t going to keep her alive.
As the ravenous guests reached the table, in her mind, there was but one option. Sarah stuck the prickly flowers between her jaws and pinched down. She immediately felt the thorns pierce into her tongue and stab the corners of her mouth, but her hunger for survival motivated her to ignore the extreme discomfort.
As the oral agony and bleeding commenced, she vaulted off the tabletop and her fingers turned into ridged claws. She was by no means a mountaineer but had spent a Saturday afternoon in a rock-climbing gym. She internally praised herself for accepting the awkward first date suggestion from a random guy she’d met on the internet the year prior.
Sarah was thankful that the fixture looked to have been implemented during the initial design and not some chintzy add-on years later. It was sturdy and allowed her a firm foundation to pull herself up. But she would need a little help before she could accomplish that.
She stretched her right arm up and took hold of the corner of the massive painting. It was fixed tightly to the wall and able to remain attached while Sarah slid her knee up on the ornamental ledge. The pack of raging ladies below clawed at the frayed dark leggings that covered her feet. The pointed wicked nails missed her toes by mere inches as she pulled herself away from their malicious clutches.
As Sarah gained her balance, a glass full of water suddenly crashed into the artwork beside her. Next came a plate, and then various silverware. Their aim wasn’t the best and some of the dinnerware didn’t even come close.
“You throw like a bunch of fucking girls!” Sarah laughed. Her words sounded strange as her mouth was still gushing and it was difficult to speak with the cluster of stems still locked between her jaws.
A small group of disturbed women all tried to stand atop the table as Sarah had done, but they weren’t quite the same tier of athlete as her. As three of them reached the tabletop at a sluggish pace, the weighty frame buckled, sending the well-dressed guests crashing down and onto plates of half-eaten food and a sparkling flowered centerpiece.
Seconds after, like a swarm of yellow-jackets, the other women began to make their way over. They somehow found the levelheadedness to collaborate their group bloodlust. They pushed the table and cloudy-minded girls in the middle of it aside.
Then, like some kind of bizarre cheerleading act, a few of them formed a foundation on their hands and knees. The women behind them jumped on their backs as the human pyramid began to form, inching closer and closer to Sarah.
Her eyes widened as the river of blood continued to drool down from her mouth. Her feet were planted firmly as best they could be on the ledge. Her right hand remained on the fauna portrait. The left one was affixed to another painting a few feet away of what looked to portray a British aristocrat.
Sarah’s stability was anything but a sure thing. She knew there was still probably plenty of time before the contest was up. Plenty of time for the unhinged women to get hold of her. As they closed in, she knew that she needed to make a move.
The ratty woman with raccoon streaks of mascara slithering down her face hoisted herself to the top of the carnal triangle to the encouragement of the desperate group.
“Get her! She took the flowers!” said one woman. “Pull her down so everyone has a fair chance!” screamed the next.
There was nothing fair about the entire evening and nothing fair about life in general. And there was certainly nothing fair about what Sarah did next.
She waited for the possessed lady to claw her way up until she was nearly at her shin level. But before she could gain her balance, the edge of Sarah’s heel found her skull.
Sarah held onto the firmly fastened canvases as tight as she could to assist in her downward kick. The ratty woman hadn’t even seen it coming. As she reached the pinnacle of mortal steps, Sarah’s foot cracked her square on the button.
Her hand remained clasped around the woman she was supposed to be standing on, and as she fell downward, the entire spur of the moment awkward architecture toppled over.
The ratty woman landed head-first, the sound of her spine shattering would have been easy to hear had it not been for the psychotic chirps coming from the remaining women. They seemed frantic and frustrated that Sarah had outwitted the majority of the populous.
Sebastian watched on enjoying what he was seeing but not quite enjoying it enough. He turned to Jinx, “She surprised me. Hasn’t disobeyed the rules, yet somehow, she’s found a way to make this more boring than it should be. Very clever, very resilient, very resourceful… Hell, that’s why I hired her…”
The memory rushed back into his mind of her interview. How Sarah just knocked every question out of the park. She had the ability to adapt quickly and think fast. The fact that he’d offered her a job and managed the woman almost seemed like a distant dream from a past life.
“Under different circumstances, she’d be getting a raise for this, but instead, she’s just pissing me off.”
Unbeknownst to Sarah who was still trying to calculate her next move, Jinx aimed the AK-47 up at her torso in the distance. Upon hearing Sebastian’s dismay, the sinister figure seemed motivated to assist however possible.
“No, not her. We can’t punish her for doing what she’s supposed to. Why don’t you motivate the rest of them instead?” Sebastian stepped away and headed back to the presents as Jinx took aim into the swarm of scared women.
Olga and Nina had stayed out of the melee for the most part. Olga had no idea what to do but figured it might be best to strike toward the end. It didn’t matter who was holding it in the moment, it was only relevant at the conclusion of Sebastian’s selected time allotment.
She had done her best to keep a distance between them and the violence while fixing her gaze on the fancy hands of the grandfather clock against the far wall. Olga would know when the right moment to strike was. But as her sights drifted to Jinx hoisting the cannon and ready to release a violent volley of rapid-fire rounds, that moment certainly hadn’t arrived.
As Sebastian’s wicked helper pulled down on the trigger, the cracks of hot lead being projected into the ballroom rang out. Both Olga and Nina dove and disappeared under the long table cloth in front of them that was draped to the ground.
The gunfire tore cavernous gorges through the frenzy of elegant garments. The faces that had been artfully crafted with carefully applied cosmetic products couldn’t hide the reality. Blood splattered upon them, faces lost their form, total hell had been unleashed.
From the other side of the room, the group of high-strung men standing like enslaved creatures watched on as the ladies they loved, the mothers of their children, were put down without a second thought. Exterminated like diseased cattle, as if it was just another day on the farm. And there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about any of it.
The sickening screams sent chills up Perry’s back, causing him to physically tremble. “This… it… it just can’t be happening. Please, God, just let me get through this. Just help me find a way to stop them,” he mumbled.
Perry had never been one to pray but that sort of behavior was the go-to in a situation that was so grim and fantastical. No mortal seemed to be in a position to whisk him away from the monumental massacre that he’d been forced to sit through.
But in reality, he knew there was no feasible way for him to stop or even temporarily pause the process without becoming another step in the slaughter. In reality, Perry knew that God would’ve showed up awhile before that moment if he was going to play hero.
“There’s nothing you can do. Nothing any of us can do except try to win. They’re holding all the cards, old man,” Keith said to Perry while knowing he was most likely watching his coworker’s final moments.
“You really think that these two are gonna let someone live?” His sarcastic tone implied that the murderous actions in front of them would seem to indicate otherwise.
“That’s what he said. So, I guess that’s the best we can hope for…” Keith replied.
Suddenly, the shooting stopped. Perry looked back at Jinx as the jester inserted another banana clip with the quickness and monotony of a factory line worker and got back to blasting.
Perry gritted his teeth and pinched his bottom lip with his discolored enamel. He watched the already dwindling crowd of beautiful ladies continue to die out. The ones that tried to run out of the contest area Jinx peppered first. The jester’s accuracy would have been highly admirable if the shots weren’t intended to explode the skeletal framework of countless innocent women.
The bodies were piling up once again. Perry watched Sarah remain frozen between the two paintings, trusting that she’d already have been dead if that was the intent behind the shooting.
Then his eyes drifted down to Alyssa, who had been very hesitant about the conflict the few times he’d watched her. She’d yet to mount the slightest offense and appeared shaken by the cruelty that surrounded her. He wondered if her timid approach was strategic or if she was just in the grasp of Medusa’s panic—frozen in stone.
Perry’s eyes then worked their way over to Taylor. She stood fearfully to the side of both Jinx and Sebastian. She was the definition of a hot mess. Her stunning beauty had intermingled with the horrors that unfolded. Blood still dribbled from her mouth and hands. Overall, based on the stains all over her gown, you would’ve thought she was an oil painter as opposed to a glamorous bride who had just been wed.
He shifted his vision back to the core of absolute chaos. Perry felt watching all these folks and how they responded might somehow help his cause. He felt a little guilty taking mental notes while people’s lives were ending. He felt uncomfortable to admit it, but in a way, he was just like the rest of them; looking to gain the slightest edge on the competition. He knew he needed to do whatever he could to stay alive. Otherwise, his boring apartment would miss him.
A tiny smirk manifested as he thought about the simplicity and utter uselessness of his life. Maybe it was true, maybe he was replaceable and had barely made a dent in the universe. Or maybe most other people just thought they had a larger impact than they actually did. Either way, it didn’t make one life more valuable than another.
Perry’s eyes remained on Alyssa as she stayed low and watched Jinx. Suddenly, after more rounds grounded a pair of girls just a few feet away from her, she seemed extremely uncomfortable. The wine glasses and smooth bottles shattered above her head, motivating her to seek a firmer form of shelter. The only shelter available to her.
She looked into the one good eye and missing face of the gagging girl on the ground that she dove behind for cover. The bloody baseball slide put her too close for comfort as she stared into the gorge of hopeless horror.
It looked like someone had used an ice-cream scooper with a razor tip and dug out hearty chunks deep into the woman’s eye socket and cheek. She laid her face down, on the verge of death, but that would do little for Alyssa’s protection.
She pushed the desecrated girl’s fractured outline up on her side and revealed an enormous exit wound in her abdominal area. As Alyssa listened to her death rattle, she grabbed the top of her dress and continued to look at what was left of the woman’s ghastly face. She gritted her teeth and positioned her to use as a human shield.
With the lady in front of her and a few more bodies that had dropped around them, she felt safer than before but not by much. The girl looked like she was trying to communicate when Alyssa felt her body shake as the pair of slugs made impact.
The first hunk of hot metal burrowed into her backside and went through the dying woman, eventually finding its way into Alyssa’s love handle. As she opened her mouth to scream in pain, the poor girl’s already desecrated head came apart entirely. The bullet avoided passing through into Alyssa’s head, but the gnarly warm and wet contents of the stranger’s deepest thoughts were catapulted into her hatch for her to chew on.
She spat out as much of the woman’s head as she could, choking while trying to tuck her face away from the gunfire. Still, Alyssa couldn’t help but swallow some of the fragmented skull and felt the fractions of bone scraping against her esophagus en route to her belly.
Perry couldn’t believe what he was watching. It was like an action movie and horror film rolled into one ferocious frame. While he was pulling for the girl, he was becoming a bit desensitized by the relentless mayhem. His eyes couldn’t help but drift off of Alyssa and back over to Sebastian.
“What the hell are you doing now?” Perry asked, watching Sebastian drag another gift-wrapped object away from the stage.
Before Sebastian made his way back to the contest area, he became lost in thought. He watched in a state of suspended glee as the lethal shots rained down upon the helpless. Sebastian stood frozen in time as he watched the women drop. Massive holes blew through them, limbs were mangled, and lives were lost.
Ten became twenty, and then fifty, yet still, Jinx showed no signs of stopping. The heartless jester emptied clip after clip until there were more magazines laying around than a doctor’s office. It only took a few more moments of rapid fire before Jinx had reached the cusp of a feminine genocide.
Sebastian peeked out at the array of violence and did his best to gather a quick count of the remaining ladies that had dodged the menacing waves of bullets with bad intentions. He seemed satisfied that about half a dozen or so remained breathing or free of critical wounds.
“Okay, that’s enough, we need a few of them still,” Sebastian said to Jinx before turning back to what remained of the ladies.
“Alright, sorry for the outburst, but in fairness, it was getting a little boring for us. So, I’m going to add something to the mix. This something is what got me through those lonely teenage years,” Sebastian said, unwrapping the paper and tearing open the box.
He pulled out an aluminum Easton baseball bat that had more dents and dimples than the moon’s surface. Some of the paint was worn in areas but it still seemed to be firmly intact. A baseball was bundled with it which he set down on the table.
“I killed more stray cats and neighborhood dogs with this fucking thing than neglect and cancer combined. She was a little pricey, but I had to get an aluminum one. Damn wooden ones just kept breaking on me. I guess I was a strong kid! Anyhow, whoever gets my precious bat here is gonna have quite the advantage,” he smiled, still gazing fondly upon the instrument of anguish.
“Since you girls were all kind of loafing it before, I’m gonna forget what time it was and just set my watch for seven minutes. Seven is a lucky number.” He winked at the gruesome girls that remained and pressed the button on the side of his timer.
“Now, have at it!” Sebastian yelled, tossing the bat up into the air.
Olga magically reappeared out from under the table she’d crawled beneath when the violence had started. It was time to make her move. Her vision searched for the metal stick but her ears found it faster as she heard it clink against the ground just a few feet beside her.
As Olga raced toward the weapon, Alyssa was the next closest person and leaped up like a bat out of hell. She forgot about the gunshot wound in her side and collided with Olga. But the force of Olga’s stride was more powerful and able to knock Alyssa backwards. She fell down at Olga’s feet, slipping in the crimson slick on the dance floor. Fortunately, to Alyssa’s relief, she fell directly onto the steel.
She gripped it tightly like she’d never heard or understood the concept of compassion. She brought the steel stick backward, and just as Olga was gaining her footing, the MLB-worthy swing smashed into her skull. The doink noise of the tin being struck against bone echoed in the room, causing many of the men observing to wince and cringe.
Olga tumbled over with her eyes still open but her consciousness had escaped them. Her cracked cranium was split wide open within her hairline, and her already mashed head landed hard on the bloody wooden floor. She laid motionless and bleeding by a severed foot wedged inside a red-specked high heel.
The otherwise pretty foot had been severed or maybe blown off from the prior rampage and activities. The area was an utter mess but Alyssa was ready to make it even messier. She raised the bat up again and drove it down with crushing speed. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, she further extended the gape in her head until her brain tissue was exposed under the elegant light of the chandelier.
“Six minutes!” Sebastian yelled, enjoying what he was seeing but reminding her she needed to keep up the pace.
Alyssa heard the footsteps of the three other girls running up on her. They had decided to try and overpower her but were not nearly as strong or cagey as they thought. Alyssa felt a newfound darkness throbbing inside her as she swung the bat, connecting directly with the first one’s jawbone.
The force of the vicious blow cracked her hinge and launched a plethora of her pearly whites off into the distance. The once vital and downright attractive consumption mechanism now uselessly hung off her face in a ghoulish manner. She landed hard with her eyes shut—mouth chattering like a gossip girl.
One of the others slid on the slippery wooden surface that was coated in inner essence. Just as the woman gained her footing again, Alyssa came down full force on the top of her head with the heavy metal. The legit head-banger short-circuited her motor functions and left her diving into a seizure and looking like a fish out of water.
The previously driven third assailant’s assault-ready angling stopped on a dime. She watched as a nefariously numb Alyssa beat her cohort’s mental sphere like Ken Griffey Jr. swinging for the fences. She didn’t stop until the exquisitely sculpted head was remodeled to resemble a raw extra runny hamburger-like texture.
In her stupor of pure panic, she accidentally dipped out of the field of play, violating the rules laid down by the evil architect of the event. Sebastian aimed his handgun accordingly and, without flinching, unloaded several shots that tore the poor babe’s perfectly tanned back up.
It was an amplified acupuncture for the ages. One that would give a sadist a hard-on; it did anything but heal. The Swiss-cheese of now unresponsive sinew dropped to the floor, quickly finding death before she even had time to hit the dead polished trees beneath her.
“Three minutes!” Sebastian screamed as if Alyssa hadn’t been motivated enough already.
Sarah stared down from her elevated slim platform, a claret stream still exiting her food hole and a dark determination was drilled deep into her expression. She wasn’t prepared to abandon her position yet. It had brought her safety through most of the event and she was ready to ride it out.
Sebastian turned to Jinx, “This should be good, these two always acted like best friends in the office, but it’s one of those things where you just know they fucking hate each other. You know what I mean?”
The outlandish entertainer nodded slowly before returning a dead glare back to the girls.
Sarah had her heels flush against the wall as Alyssa pushed a chair closer toward her and stood up on it. She had no choice but to point her feet outward as the ledge didn’t offer enough room to accommodate any other position.
When the first swing of the slugger landed, Sarah was able to kick her foot up and avoid the strike. Sarah was thankful for the inflexibly fixed paintings; she was clinging onto them for dear life. Alyssa’s swing had cracked some of the wall and the tin reverberated against the narrow lip.
“Alyssa! What are you doing! You bitch!” Sarah bellowed.
The second swing came faster than Sarah could have anticipated, smashing into her dainty foot in a most torturous manner. The pretty painted big toenail cracked in a spiderweb fashion and the two beside it snapped sickeningly like the Macho Man’s mouth mid-Slim-Jim commercial.
Her cries sounded deranged as the rose stem’s thorn stabbed into her tongue, ripping the muscle as it did a dance of pain. Still, she was a badass; the thought of loosening her lockjaw-like bite never even crossed her mind.
While thoughts of losing never manifested, other things still did. The screeching hurt that rocked her exterior was impossible to ignore no matter what yoga DVD routines she tried to rehash. Sarah’s focus had been fractured the same as her foot, and that’s probably the reason her other leg didn’t react when the bat pounded her opposite toes next.
The swipe shot upward, hyperextending the longest of her frail phalanges backwards. The heartless attack shattered her hallux and left it arching over toward her ankle. The double-dose of deformity had her looking like she was immersed in a Chinese foot binding fetish.
As Sarah’s feet found a new outline, she fittingly lost her footing. With her balance beaten to a pulp, she plunged off the perch and landed hard on the ground below. It only took seconds for Sarah’s “best friend” to pounce on her like a piranha to pepperoni.
She struck Sarah in the chest first. The tin twisted and splintered her sternum, causing an internal rupture immediately. The second hit dislodged ribs, clearing out and offering an unknown strike zone to her little racing heart.
“Let go of my flowers, you fucking cunt!” Alyssa shrieked in a tone that sounded fresh out of the asylum.
Sarah put one of her hands up toward her former friend as if trying to protect her face. She still hadn’t relinquished her chomping grip from the scarlet and saliva-saturated stems, but the confidence that once sparkled in her sights had nearly vanished.
As the metal breast-beater came down again, Alyssa found herself smashing Sarah with the most catastrophic shot yet. In a sort of happy accident (for Alyssa), it landed in the slice of torso where the ribs had shifted. The vulnerable blood pumper felt the traumatic impact of the steel hit it so hard that it knocked it offbeat.
Sarah let a wheezing wind sweep away the accumulation of plasma that had been simmering in the rear of her throat. The spray of splatter speckled Alyssa but also made her smile. The stems had finally dislodged and fell to the floor beside her.
“One minute!” Sebastian screamed.
Alyssa dropped the bat and snatched the bloody tattered remnants of the nearly petal-less flower bouquet as Sarah performed her final expiring shakes. She was now timed to the bizarre new bumping rhythm of her internal ticker. But the song didn’t last long—her fifteen minutes of fame were up.
Without hesitation, Alyssa dashed back toward a smirking Sebastian with the gory trinket. As the gap between her and her survival closed rapidly, nothing could stop her. Everyone was dead or too mangled to move. Everyone except for Nina…
Nina had been lying in wait, still under the table her mother had scrambled from minutes before. As she peered through the vanilla tablecloth, she saw Alyssa come into frame. Alyssa’s eager legs burned rubber a little too fast as she reached the dancefloor. And just like so many others, she stumbled and slid forward with the urgency of an MLB player stealing home.
However, unbeknownst to Alyssa, she may have popped the champagne a few seconds too soon. Her flashy finale was interrupted by the revenge-fueled, timid nineteen-year-old with a crushing death grip suffocating the butter knife in her hand. Nina was afraid, but she wanted to live. But maybe even more than life, she wanted retribution.
Relatively fresh out of high school, Nina was never an athlete, she was more of a sheepish nerd really. But being a geek was about to pay off. In biology class, Mr. Valentine had hammered home that if your jugular vein got shanked, it was pretty much a wrap for the injured.
The thought of the quirky teacher discussing his blue veiny diagram with a long metallic pointer remained in her head as she mustered every shred of force and propelled the dull blade into Alyssa’s throat. Caught off guard, she’d somehow done it; Nina’s practical target was penetrated by the cutlery that was just pointed enough to get the job done.
The neck flesh flapped as she twisted and popped the inner rosy roadways and let the juice flood out like a cherry mudslide. Nina felt Alyssa’s body lose its tension and fall to the side. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Nina felt her hands go limp and watched the soaked stems drop to the floor.
Nina was crying for many reasons. She looked to her left and watched the eruption of essence leave Alyssa as her legs shook wildly. Then, just a foot or two away laid her motionless mother. Olga’s grave grimace and exposed brains were the last thing she’d hoped to see. Growing up Nina often wondered what went on inside her mother’s head, but never had she hoped to see it that intimately.
Nina stared up glossy-eyed at Sebastian and then back down to the disgusting flowers. Did she even really want them?
“THREE!” Sebastian yelled at the pinnacle of his exuberance. “TWO!” Sebastian continued looking at Nina, highly interested in her actions and analyzing her decision.
Just before he howled out “ONE!” Nina snatched up the flowers and felt the prickle poke through her skin and the hot fluids from the other women enter her body.
“WELL, I’LL BE DAMNED! WE HAVE A WINNER! AND I’M PROUD TO SAY, WE’RE KEEPING IT IN THE FAMILY! EVERYONE, PLEASE GIVE A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR, MY COUSIN—”
Before the celebratory cheers could be offered, Olga, with her pinkish intellect partially exposed, launched herself upward. Nina’s eyes lit up like a miracle had been unveiled before them. Knowing that the person she was closest to in life, the person that was always there for her, was still there (at least for a little while longer). The imagery of Nina’s deformed mother was disturbing but still felt like it was the greatest gift of all. Until Nina saw what she was holding…
“What in God’s name…” Sebastian mumbled, looking back to Jinx for counsel.
In Olga’s left hand sat the elongated spiky heel and the uneven severed foot that laid beside her on the floor. She quaked and shook like she was being manipulated by a malfunction. Like she’d been programmed to kill and was stuck on her last command regardless of who was in the crosshairs.
“Momma!” Nina cried as she drove the tip into her eye socket as easily as pushing a tac through a poster on the wall.
“What the fuck! You… th-the game ended! You can’t—” Sebastian whined, losing his grasp on his next intended words.
Olga ignored Sebastian’s remarks and forced her daughter onto her back. She then used all her weight to push down until the base of the heel was nestled against her brow. Clear and claret fluid meshed and the indent overflowed with a pulpy slop. Nina froze in place, losing her ability to move.
Olga snapped back around, flipping about, and scurrying to snatch up what was left of the stained flowers.
Sebastian looked at her and wondered if she had any comprehension of what she’d just done to her own daughter. Did the head trauma send her off the deep end, or is it a clever ruse? he wondered.
“Auntie! What on earth is wrong with you? Have you flipped your shit, or are you just a selfish hard-boiled cunt?” Sebastian asked.
She offered him no response—her brain wasn’t in the kind of shape that allowed one to formulate even the most basic sentence. Olga just continued to shiver as she tried to hand him the flowers.
“NO! NO! NO! I’m afraid that won’t do… You see, the game ended already, yet now the winner has been robbed of the spoils. The rules are the rules,” he explained as he carefully elevated the handgun and aligned it with her ruined head.
“Unfortunately for you, Auntie Olga, killing your daughter, while highly entertaining, still doesn’t make you a winner.”
She would have pleaded if she had the capability to. But her mind mirrored the egg in the frying pan in the ‘this is your brain on drugs’ commercials.
His aunt’s head had already been put through the wringer, but that didn’t stop Sebastian from emptying the clip and turning a life-threatening deformity into a pair of shoulders with nothing left to hold up.
