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Old 07-17-2006   #1
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The Fabricated Truth

This is a little something I wrote almost a year ago. Maybe it was a year ago. I can't remember. At any rate I just stumbled upon it and thought I might share it. It is worth nothing that the first half of the story is true while the rest is a bold-faced lie. I'll signify when the fabrication begins by making it another thread, considering that it's the good part of the story anyway and it is too long as one post.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Fabricated Truth

The other day I was drunk and, in the typical drunk fashion, without
sense. My friend Carrie gave me the phone number of this guy that
raped this girl. After a night of drinking, he gave her a bar or two
of Xanax and once she had become sufficiently drowsy from that he
brought her into his room. She gave her intoxicated "consent" and
they fucked. So the next night, having been told this story by
Carrie, I reached a state of inebriation that can be best described as
my "shit-talking state". So I call this guy up--it's about 4am--and
he doesn't answer. I wasn't expecting him to, but I had the
opportunity now to leave a message. So I did and it went something
like this:

"You son of a bitch!! You fucking raped my sister. I will fucking
kill you!! I will find you and fucking kill you, you pathetic piece
of shit!! Watch your motherfucking back because one day out of
nowhere I will shove a knife into it!"

Yeah... it's bad I know. I completely threatened this guy's life when
I was very drunk. I'm not saying that he didn't deserve it. Rapists
deserve castration and exile, in my opinion. I don't think that is
"cruel and unusual punishment" at all.

I tried to do *67 so he couldn't get my phone number, but it wouldn't
let me. Consequently, I ended up having called him allowing my number
to be shown. Naturally, I wasn't surprised the next night to find he
was calling me about 9:30pm. I didn't answer at first and he left a
message. Basically saying the same thing that I said to him above,
minus the "you raped my sister" part. About 10 til midnight he called
back again, this time from another number I didn't recognize. So I
didn't answer (I don't usually answer numbers I don't know), but when
he called back 5 minutes later I thought it might be a friend calling
from someone else's phone.

I answered. It was some chick calling me a fag among other things.
The guy also got on the line and was talking shit. Apparently it was
either a three-way call or they were each on a separate phone at the
same house. I had been drinking and was feeling rather chipper, and
decided to play along and have fun with these fools. Later I would
find out that they were on three-way and this was the girl who was
raped by the guy. Apparently she recanted the story she gave to the
police. I was just being funny. The guy said things along the lines
of "Let's meet in an empty field somewhere and do this!" My responses
were along the lines of "Do what? Have a picnic? You wanna have a
picnic! I'd love to! I'll bring the uh... well, do you like chicken?"
and I could tell I was really pissing him off.

Eventually it got down to some serious business as this guy seriously
wanted to meet me to fight him. I kept trying to get off the phone,
explaining that I didn't really care about him or what he had done. I
thought it was wrong, of course, but what was I to do if the girl he
raped didn't even care? I even traced the number from which they had
called me; I asked the girl if I could speak with Stevie Kents over
the phone, or if it would be better if I visited the house on Camp
Road and met with him in person. After this I hung up the phone,
figuring they'd no longer bug me now that I knew where she lived. She
called back moments later. Her voice was shaky as she timidly asked,
"H-h-how do you kn-know my dad's name and wh-where I li-li-live?"
'Yes!' I thought, believing that I had finally gotten to them and
they'd finally leave me alone. But that would not be the case as this
guy (his name is Clayton by the way... or was it Chris? We'll call
him Clayton) seriously wanted to fight me. I explained to him that I
was drunk when I called and wasn't being serious. He took it as me
being a pussy. Typical of a testosterone-fueled male.
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Old 07-17-2006   #2
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Re: The Fabricated Truth

-=-=-=-=-= And So Begins The Fabrication =-=-=-=-=-=-


So I wouldn't stand for this unnecessary name-calling. I'm not some
yellow-bellied coward! As I said above, I was drunk; so if this guy
wanted to throw down, then throw down we shall. I figured that he
would arrive at Matt's apartment by himself or with another person or
two, expecting an easy fight but would find that I had a lot of people
willing to back me up. I'd have a fight won without fighting...ahhh,
if only war were like that. I gave him the address where I resided,
half-expecting him not to show up at all. I got off the phone and
went back to the social gathering surrounding me.

Approximately 20 minutes later there was a thunderous knock on the
door. I looked around the room which had fallen deathly silent.
Matt, Kayla, Tony, Zach, Carrie, Chris, Justin, and I looked around at
each other. With a total of eight people, I didn't think anything bad
could come from this. Several of us glimpsed into the direction of
Zach's golf-bag which contained numerous swords. I smiled and went to
the door. Peeking through the peep-hole, I counted two people. I
described them to Carrie and she said their names were Clayton and
Chris. Clayton stood in front of Chris. He had scraggly black hair
and dark skin. He looked kind of scrawny in his blue jeans and black
T-shirt. The other guy, Chris, was shorter than Clayton but more
muscular. He could be a potential problem, I thought, unless he's not
here for fighting at all but for the intimidation factor. Carrie had
told me that Chris was actually the guy who raped the chick; so
Clayton was just his friend on the phone who had been talking shit.
Carrie claims that they were both rednecks wanting to be thugs, or was
it thugs masquerading as rednecks? Either way I'd call them
bitchboys. And it was on.

Another loud knock threatened the silence of the room, causing Zach to
speak up. "Jason, do you have to do this?"

"Quiet for a second Zach!" I said in a harsh whisper. Then, turning
to the door, I spoke through it "Hold on just a second!"

"Hold on?! Motherfucker, I've come here to beat your ass--don't tell
me to hold on!" retorted one of the bitchboys.

"You cuntscab! I said to hold on and you'll do as you’re told. Once I'm
through with you I'll make you my bitch so you might as well get used
to doing as you’re told.” Unintelligible boisterous yelling followed this last statement.

I told everyone inside to be ready. I caught myself sending another quick glance at Zach’s golf bag as I unlocked the door.

Immediately it burst open. I was hit squarely in the face and fell back in shock against the wall. The two hoodlums barged inside and turned round on me. Due to their quick action and the fact that they ignored the other occupants in the room, I suddenly began to feel nauseous. Something was amiss here and I was to find it out rather quickly. With my back already to the wall, my two assailants had me cornered. The golf bag full of swords was of no use to me being more than five feet behind them. My friends started to react to the situation when from under his shirt, Clayton pulled out a gun. Chris also brandished a knife. Now more than ever I knew my life was in jeopardy. I had no idea what these two were capable of. I began to back away when Clayton put his arm in my path and the gun to my forehead. Chris shut the door.

“Don’t move motherfucker!” Clayton shouted.

“The rest of you sit down!” bellowed his counter-part.

“This is stupid! Fight him like a man and put the gun away.” Carrie’s suggestion was ignored.

“Shut up bitch! You’ll be getting it next after what you did to me!”

For some reason I felt compelled to ridicule Clayton after his last statement. “Ahh, yes! The dildo! We were told how easily it slid in and out of your asshole! Tell me… how often did you get fucked in priz…” My gibe was interrupted with Clayton shouting and pressing the gun forcefully into my eye. The pain was intense and it wouldn’t be long before I’d lose the eye or possibly my life.

He pulled the gun out of my eye and pressed it against my chest. He tilted forward and looked me in the eyes. “I was just gonna kill you but now I think I’m gonna let my buddy Chris here cut you up a bit.” I am sure that he thought he saw fear in my eyes.

I began to shake uncontrollably. Now was not the time for this, I thought. Traditionally when I feel threatened, the shaking begins as uncontrollable rage takes over. This usually means that I will do anything and everything to win the upcoming scuffle. The current situation mandated that a scuffle was not in my future; pain and death, however, appeared to be the evening’s schedule. Rage would not help this situation. I tried to remain cool and collected. My eyes shifted right to look at my friends. Noticing this action, Clayton remarked, “You think they’re gonna help you? They’re all just as afraid as you are.”

“Not all of us,” spoke Matt as he stood up from the computer chair, “and Jason isn’t scared either. I see him shake whenever he is really angry.” Matt placed his right hand on the back of the chair Zach was sitting in. His left hand was below the chair. I knew what he was reaching for and I winked to show him that I understood.

“So you want some to?” Turning to Chris he said, “Bring that asshole over here.”

Before Chris could even move Matt had launched the tomahawk he kept in a slit in the back of the chair. Clayton reacted quickly, dodging the missile. With no room to maneuver, Chris was not so lucky. The tomahawk hit him in the forehead and he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. I immediately lunged forward. Grasping the unsuspecting Clayton by the shoulders, I leaped up and kicked my legs back against the wall. My enemy toppled over and I landed on top of him. In the chaos, he lost hold of his gun. I pinned his arms to the side of his head and held him down with my knee on his chest. I gave him my full weight. I wasn’t going to take any chances. The gun lay near his legs which were frantically trying to kick me.

“Get off of me you fat fuck!” he screamed. In anger, I backhanded him across the face with my right hand. As a result of moving my arm, I freed up one of his and he grabbed me by the shirt trying to pull me down. I punched him in the face with my right fist and, releasing my grip on his other arm, I reached for his gun.

Meanwhile, Chris had come to only to find Matt brandishing a bastard sword pointed at the center of his face. “Don’t move,” he ordered, “and slide the knife away from you.” Chris obliged, his eyes fixed on the point of the sword. “Stand up,” Matt continued, “and kneel down on these stairs.” Matt directed him with the sword. Chris began to sob.

“Wh-what are you gonna d-do?” he whined. “P-please don’t (sniffle) k-kill me!”

“I don’t intend on it,” Matt replied. “And quit whimpering you pathetic piece of shit. I’ll let Jason decide what is to be done.”

I had obtained the gun and was pointing it at Clayton’s face. I moved off of him and stood up. Now was the time for revenge. It is unwise to threaten my life.

I had an idea. “Matt, we need to teach these boys a lesson. Let’s see. Carrie, there is some rope in the computer desk. Grab that for me. Zach, take off your socks. You won’t be getting them back. I hope you don’t mind. Kayla, go get those two bottles of hot sauce out of the fridge. Tony, can you find some duct tape? Does anyone have to take a piss?”
“I do!” exclaimed my friend Chris.
“So do I,” said Justin.
“Good. Chris, you go ahead and do that but don’t flush it. Justin, you go next. Don’t flush!” Everyone proceeded to follow my instructions.

“Why are you telling them not to flush?” asked Clayton calmly. Despite his tranquility I could see the fear in his eyes.

“Shut your mouth!” I commanded. “On second thought, open it. Make a face like you’re preparing for some hardcore cocksucking.” My captive did as he was ordered as I kneeled down and stuck the muzzle of the gun in his mouth. “You’re lucky I’m doing this now. I was thinking about sticking the barrel up your ass and then sticking it in your mouth. But I like this gun and I don’t want it to smell of your shit. And to answer your question, I am going to torture you and your friend. If you play by the rules I won’t shoot you either. That was a nice cocksucking face by the way. I can tell you’ve had practice. Did you learn the skill in prison or did your daddy make you blow him before you could go out and play with the other kids?”

“You mufferfucker,” came the muffled reply. I shoved the gun in his mouth deeper.

Carrie, Kayla, and Tony returned with the rope, hot sauce, and duct tape, respectively. Justin told me he was finished and Zach had taken off his socks. “Zach, go get a plastic bag or something to prevent dripping. Dip your socks in the toilet. Be sure to soak up as much pisswater as you can. Damn. I should have had them pee directly on the socks. Oh well.”

“You ain’t doin’ what I think it is you’re planning to do, are you?” came a voice from behind the stairs.

“Nice to see you aren’t whining anymore over there. But let’s give you something to cry about. Matt, spank him a few times with the broad side of the sword. He’s gotta learn to shut up.” Matt hit him a few times and he yelped after each stroke. It probably did hurt a lot. “And yes, I’m doing what you think I’m doing. Maybe even more than you think I’m doing. See, I’m gonna do a little science. Hot sauces are made from capsicum peppers. The chemical compounds in the peppers are weak acids. I am going to have Kayla and Carrie each take a bottle of these extremely hot sauces and pour them in your mouths. They can each choose the amount they wish to pour. I wonder which one will act more sadistically, although my vote is on Kayla. Ladies, please.” I gestured at the bottle and then towards our captives. I removed the gun from Clayton’s mouth. Kayla and Carrie walked over to Chris and Clayton respectively and poured for several seconds. To my surprise, Carrie seemed to pour more, even going as far as hitting the bottom of the bottle to allow more to spill out. Tears came to the eyes of the two victims as the fiery sauce worked its deadly magic.

“Thank you girls. Now, to show you that I am not completely without heart I am going to stop the burning AFTER I explain the scientific process involved. I am sure that neither of you got far enough along in school to learn what happens when you mix acids and bases. Strong acids mixed with either a strong or weak base react violently. The same is true for strong bases. You have a weak acid burning in your mouth. If I counter it with a weak base, the burning will stop. Ammonia is a sterile base found in urine. Actually, urine is completely sterile, did you know? Anyway. I don’t mean to get off subject and keep you in pain longer. The piss-soaked socks please Zach. And Tony, prepare the tape.”

Zach brought a sock over. I originally thought I would have difficulty getting them to open their mouths for the urine gags I had provided for them but I guess they believed me about the weak acids and weak bases thing. Not that it wasn’t true, but it isn’t often that you have someone willingly open his mouth readily accepting of one person’s dirty sock dripping with the urine of two others. I used the gun to stuff the sock into Clayton’s mouth as Tony taped his mouth shut. Matt and Tony then did the same to Chris.

“We need something to blindfold them with. Any suggestions?” I queried the group.

“How about those two extra socks I had?” Matt answered. “They are long and black.”

“Yeah, those will work. Go get them.”

Matt returned moments later and we blindfolded our guests. “Don’t worry boys. Soon you’ll be on your way home. Err, to your new home.” They shook upon hearing this last sentence. I couldn’t help but laugh. They probably still think I’m going to kill them. “Let’s move them so we can tie them together,” I said as I pulled Clayton up by the hair. Some of it ripped out.

We got the two sitting back to back and I tied a knot around Clayton’s hands. Then I looped the rope around the front of his body and around to the opposite side of Chris’s back before looping around his front in a figure-eight kind of way. I tied Chris’s hands together as well and fashioned a brutal knot. Sorry. I was never a cub scout.

“You can’t speak. You can’t see. You probably wish you couldn’t taste. All you’ve left are touch and hearing. Let’s move.” We took our victims outside and walked them to the man-made pond near Matt’s apartment. The water is only about two or three feet deep and would make the perfect disposal place. I explained this to my friends being sure to emphasize “water” and “disposal”.

“Well it has been a lot of fun tonight. I hope you two had a good time. I know we all did. But now we must say goodbye. The sun will rise in about five or six hours. Who knows how long it will be before someone finds you though. I wouldn’t recommend telling anyone about this. After all, you came to kill me and the tables were turned. Chris, you’re going to have to hold your friend up as I doubt he’ll be able to do it on his own.” Clayton began to wriggle and attempted to scream. “I’ve got to ask but one question to you Clayton. Let’s lower you two into the water first.” I walked them to the edge and got on my knees. Holding onto the rope, I pushed the two pricks into the pond.

“Clayton, my boy, before darkness is all you see, I must ask you: do you believe in God? Just shake your head yes or no. Do you believe in God?”

Clayton frantically shook his head. It’s always amusing to see faith hold up in people under such circumstances. I wonder if he thought saying no would save his life.

“Clayton, there is no God,” I said as I hit him with the butt of the revolver in the side of the head. He hunched over and I fired the gun into the air. Chris began moving erratically. “Chris, remember to hold up your friend. Don’t sag down in the water.”

As we walked back to Matt’s apartment, I laughed maniacally; though, I will admit, it was more for effect than anything else. I had been lucky that night. I was lucky to have Matt stand up against those thugs. Without his courage and camaraderie, I would surely have been killed.
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"Self-education is, I firmly believe, the only kind of education there is." -Isaac Asimov
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Old 07-18-2006   #3
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Re: The Fabricated Truth

Great writing, i love the topic. is that bad? lol
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Old 07-19-2006   #4
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Re: The Fabricated Truth

Thanks.

I don't consider the topic to be bad because for the most part the first half of it (the truth) was just a journal entry. In the spirit of writing, I continued a story about it. The second part is all fabrication but is based on a few real things. The tomahawk in the ripped slit on the back of a chair in my friend's apartment, for example, is true. So is the golf bag full of swords.

Anyway, I really should find some of my good stuff and post it on here. I have this thing I wrote on the Antichrist that I think is pretty good, though it reads like an essay or an history lecture.
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Old 07-20-2006   #5
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Re: The Fabricated Truth

you are deeply disturbed




and since i think very similar things, so am i.
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Old 07-20-2006   #6
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Re: The Fabricated Truth

T'was very well composed. Parts were a bit choppy, but all in all, it was a decent tale.
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