Vincente and Samantha Part Two

Samantha, unfortunately, had gotten to the sheriff before I could and ripped him apart with the might of her jaws. So I dipped my stumps in some hydrogen peroxide and felt the burn. I din't trust doctors and so would have to cauterize the wounds myself. That meant a trip to the bar and several beers and cigarettes and refer. I got so drunk and stoned that I forgot what I set out to do. Every time I looked at the bloody mess that were my legs I remembered again, but like so many bad memories I shut it out almost instantaneously. Now I know what it feels like to be a fish! I thought, and imagined myself in the great blue ocean eating kelp and other delicacies, but the horror that was Bog-Man reappeared, this time with his merman friends and they took turns beating me. My mind was not a safe place to be. But where else could I go!?

I decided I had enough to drink and turned round to leave, whereupon I fell to my back and my legless state once again made itself known. I thrashed a bit on the ground not being able to set myself back up. Sleep would be the best thing, I reasoned, and closed my eyes. It was long before I heard the familiar pitter patter of the postulic feet of Samantha. She stood looming over me.

"I'm hungry. Your arms look good. Have you been working out?" She asked in her high sweet voice.

"You know damn well I'm training for the Olympics, Samantha, don't be coy. You've ruined me!" I replied and gave her my special curse.

"Don't curse me, Vincente. You brought this on yourself. You know how much I hate Valium."

"I was just trying to relax you! I just wanted to limber you up! Like old times!"
She took out her giant killing knife and began sharpening it.

"That was the old Samantha. The new one likes intestines for breakfast."

The weight of the day and the sharpening of her knife set me frantic and pleading: "I'll get you intestines! I'll get you onions! Just please don't kill me! I'm too young to die!" She stopped sharpening her knife so that she could step on my stomach.

"You won't be going anywhere, not with your legs in my belly travelling the path to brown."

I started crying. It was to much for me. The only woman I had ever loved now held my life in her hands. "I just wanted a puppy! Can't I at least have a puppy!?" I lamented, through the tears. But crying enraged the new Samantha and she stooped to place the knife on my throat.

"You know how I feel about crying. That's enough, or I'll kill you, so help me God." With effort I held the tears back, choking a little. There was a silence while she examined my bleary eyes and bog strewn hair. I thought of all the things I wanted before icy death took me in her hold: Ice cream, bananas, sugar cream..

"O.k. you pathetic girly man, I won't kill you, but now you have to be my bitch. And do whatever I want, and if you don't, lights out." And she made swiping motions with her knife. I nodded my head trying not to cry again. She took her foot off me and sheathed her knife only to unsheathe her sword. My eyes filled with fear. She lifted the sword over her head.

"Samantha! NO!" I screamed. She brought the sword down on the dangling bits on my stumps. The blinding pain filled my head. My screams filled the room. She repeated the motion on the other stump and finished the job by splashing some hydrochloric acid on the bleeding mess. Blood gurgled in my throat. Blackness reigned.

I woke up in the same place I had that morning with the bats in the rafters.

"Good morning, dear," Samantha said beside me, as she patted my stumps. "Good to see you up so soon..." I smiled weakly, in fear. She smiled back. She reached over to the night stand and grabbed her death knife and held it gently on my throat, like the psychotic lover she was.

"Now get me my porridge, bitch, so that I can soak my toes. And make it snappy." I obeyed, and continue to obey while the horrible Samantha keeps her knife at the ready and her wits sharp.