Seven Sick Short Stories 2: Electric Boogaloo
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Category:
Original - Misc › Humour
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,092
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Seven Sick Short Stories 2: Electric Boogaloo
OK, I got into a metal bathtub filled about halfway with water. i brought in two bug zappers (unplugged) and I cut an extension cord in half and stuck the exposed wires in my mouth (this also unplugged). Well, they all were plugged into another extension cord, but that was unplugged. A friend was waiting nearby to plug it in.
First, though, i had the tub filled with copper pennies, until the water reached nearly to the top. I was practically covered in the pennies.
Also, several more halved extension cords were placed in my ears, my mouth, my nose, and two in my rectum.
Plus, I had my friend place two TVs in the tub and plugged them into the same extension cord that he was getting ready to plug in.
Oh, and I was wrapped entirely in tinfoil, except for the various holes.
So, the instant my friend plugged the cord in, millions of volts of electricity filled the tub instantly. My hair instantly burst into fire, and within seconds both my eyeballs popped like little balloons. It took a little over twenty seconds for my internal organs to fry sufficiently enough to kill me, but by then my brain was a seething cauldron, bubbling out from my sockets. The water began boiling, and all the pennies and other metal in the tub started fusing together. The TV tubes exploded, sending glass pieces cutting into my now-frying skin, quickly turning from an off-white to a golden brown to a charred black. Fortunately, I was well past feeling pain by this point.
It took about two minutes for all the metal to fuse together in one huge lump and for all the water to evaporate. By this time, most of my exposed body was aflame, my skeleton already poking through in places. The ground around the tub began to char and smoulder.
My friend quickly vacated the house. By the time he left, I had already blown power out throughout the entire neighborhood. Fire quickly spread throughout the house, from my bathroom to the dining room, kitchen, living room, bedrooms.... my grandmother was still asleep in her bed, and she awoke screaming as the flames consumed her. She died under thirty seconds later, more from shock and smoke inhalations than the undoubtedly fatal burns.
At about this time the fire department arrived. It took them about 45 minutes to extinguish the fire; by then, the house was gutted. My parents had been called, and they were sobbing in mourning behind one of the firetrucks. One of the firefighters holds up a large chunk of meat and shouts out, \"What\'s this?\" My mom look and and, grief-consumed and sobbing, stuttered \"M-m-my s-s-s-son\'s pet cat,\" and then broke into a new round of sobbing.
Several days later, police arrested my friend after investigns hns had showed he played a large part in my demise. Three years later, the Federal Appeals Judge ruled that he would indeed get the death penalty -- the electric chair.
My father simply pined away several months after the fire, and mother killed herself some weeks after. My death had a lasting affect on a countless number of people, each of whom directly affected or indirectly connected with the people whose lives ended due to the fire. The community began to hold an annual fundraiser, which promoted electrical safety awareness.
If such a program had been instituted before I climbed into that bathtub, I wouldn\'t have been the catalyst in a huge web of anguish. Those deaths are all on my head, and I will never be able to redeem myself.
~~~
Hello, I am a matri-pyro-necro-electro-suicide-philiac.
What that means is I want to have sex with my dead mother while set on fire and electricity coursing through me, climaxing as I kill myself.
Today, I\'ve decided to fulfill my ultimate sexual fantasy.
I started the day by driving to Morning Crest Cemetary, where mother was buried two weeks ago. It is 12:00 AM.
I remove a shovel from the back of my SUV, walk to her grave, and begin digging.
Several hourter,ter, I hit pay dirt -- or rather, her coffin. Using the spade as a crowbar, I pry open the lid.
There she is. Hi, mom!
she looks well-preserved, though I guess the worms hadn\'t gotten around to burrowing inside the coffin yet. Oh well, just means I won\'t have to spend time cleaning her or anything.
I hoist her corpse out of the grave and carry it back to my truck. I set her in the seat beside me. If by some distant chance I am pulled over, it merely looks as if she is quite ill. Unless you notice her lack of breath.
I drive straight home and lay her out in bed. I still have some preparations.
First, I drive to the nearby gas station. I put five dollars\' worth gasoline in the spare tank I brought with me. As I pay, the clerk wishes me a good day.
\"Oh, it\'s gonna be a great one,\" I respond.
I then stop by the hardware store, for some copper wire. This time, the cashier asks what I\'m going to do with the wire.
\"Oh, I\'m just going to use it to help me fuck my dead mother.\" Her face goes slack as I pay and leave.
I return home with my purchases. I don\'t really have anything else to do, so I\'ll get right down to it.
First, I strip both myself and mother. Then, I douse her with gasoline. Mmm, that\'s a nice smell (don\'t get me wrong, I\'m not a huffer). I wrap the wiring around mother -- and my own genitalia -- and connect it to a low-voltage generator. I lay myself on her, when...
\"Stop!\" I turn; it\'s the cashier girl from the hardware store! Only something\'s...not quite right. For one, she has a dick about a foot long.
\"I can make this more fun for you, you know,\" she informs me. \"How?\" I ask.
\"Well, I\'m an alien, and I can do these cool things like share thoughts and feelings -- yes, even erotic feelings. I can also prevent tissue from being damaged by fire and electricity, and I can also bring you back from immediate death,\" she said, gesturing to the gun over there.
I eagerly nodded, unable to talk since my cock stole all my blood. She climbed atop me, and I suddenly realized what other -philia I was:
Hermaphrodite.
~~~
I remember it like it was yesterday.
There used to be this great radio show called \'Electricman\', where this guy who built an electricity gun fought evildoers. This was just before the dawn of television. I was seven.
I was one of the lucky few children who won the contest to go see a live broadcast of the first episode of the Electricman television series. Boy, was I excited. It was the greatest moment of my entire life...except for that time I pushed little Suzy Jenkins in the mud.
So, I sat front-row center. Within minutes, the show began.
\"Evildoers beware, Electricman will zap you there!\" I know, it was a lame tagline. But as I said, I was seven, gimme a break. I would have liked it no matter the cheese factor.
Several minutes into the show, the scene called for Electricman to use his gun for the first time. He lifted it up, pulled the trigger, and immediately I knew something was wrong.
All his hair was standing straight up. He started shaking like a rocketship that was about to take off. His face turned into a horrified grimace.
Somebody had rewired his gun so that the current ran straight into him, somehow.
It was then I noticed his sidekick, Lightbulb Boy, laughing like a madman. \"What stupid plot contrivance is going to save you now, Electricman?\" he laughed. \"None, that\'s why! Because I am now the star of this show!\" I suddenly realized what was happening, and had to take action.
I whipped out my .44 Magnum and drew a bead on Lightbulb Boy. The expression on his face looked shocked first, then the curtain stained with blood behind him. Only because I blew a hole through his head, though. I fired two more shots rapid-fire into his chest, just in case. Yeah, right. I wanted him to suffer.
The last three shots were fired at Electricman\'s electric gun, destroying it and breaking the electricity hurting him. I ran up and noticed the pungent odor of shit; the electricity had made him lose control of all his muscles, including his spincter.
\"Electricman, please don\'t die!\" I begged.
\"Little Billy,\" he whispered. \"Tell Molly...I love her.\" And then he died in my arms.
I stood up, and cried out one word: the name of the man who I knew was responsible for my hero\'s death.
\"MENDOZA!\"
Then I squatted down really quick and scooped some of Electricman\'s shit out of his pants.
~~~
In the year 2525, man is indeed still alive. And swearing is a crime.
Persons who swear go to the Cursefield Maximum Security Prison, where electrodes are inserted into their rectums. If a person utters a swear word, the electrode activates, and ten thousand volts of electricity shoots directly into their rectum.
However, as we zoom in on a group of our intrepid prisoners, we see that there is a problem...
\"Number 1138 is getting off on the electrical jolts!\" Prisoner 7374 complained to Prisoner 9372.
\"How do you figure?\" 9372 asked.
\"Just LOOK!\" he gestured. They both turned.
1138 had his pants down and was furiously jerking his erection, shouting out \"SHIT!\" and \"FUCK!\" and other swear words once every two or three seconds.
\"We\'ve got to do something,\" 9372 finally decided.
He and 7374 worked for hours, trying to find something to cure 1138 of his condition. Finally, they stumbled onto an old book which had everything they needed.
\"OK, we need to get the help of everybody else in the prison,\" 7374 decided.
THe news passed along the grapevine. \"Big meeting at 7:00 PM tonight in the courtyard, pass it on.\"
A bunch of people showed up. 9372 gave people different instructions while 7374 passed out things that they would need.
Days passed by. Finally, they were ready.
7374 went to 1138\'s bunker. \"For God\'s sake, 1138, put your pants on for at least ten minutes. Come on, there\'s something I want to show you.\"
He led him to the courtyard, where a stage and a single chair had been erected. He then went up on stage.
\"And now, the Cursefield Maximum Security Prison\'s Thespian Society is proud to announce its production of: Beauty and the Beast!\"
The curtain rose, and the show began. 9372\'s favorite part was their rendition of \"Be Our Guest\".
The show finally ended. 7374 approached 1138 and asked him: \"So, 1138, do you want to masturbate over electricity now?\"
\"No.\" He sighed with relief.
\"I want to masturbate over a woman having sex with a dog.\"
They had opened up a whole new can of worms.
~~~
Angelina Jolie shrugged off her coat as she entered her luxurious Hollywood home.
She went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. As she drank it, she read the news. \"Coffins unearthed; police baffled\" the headline said. She \'hmm\'ed and threw the paper into her recycling.
She entered her living room briefly and turned on the Weather Channel. \"Thunderstorms,\" she bemusedly said to herself.
She flipped off the TV and passed through the kitchen to soak her now-empty cup. Tonight was the night.
The actress strode into her bedroom and activated the hidden switch. A panel in the wall slid open. She entered, and it automatically closed behind her. \"Hello, Angelina,\" the computerized feminine voice greeted her. \"Hello, Annie.\"
The corridor ended at what was clearly a laboratory. One section had a notable chemistry-themed setup, while another section was devoted to machinery. A third section held a table with a large bulk; a sheet was draped over i
\"
\"Hello, Alexander,\" she called out to nobody in sight.
She walked over to the machinery and began inputting a complex series of instructions quickly and flawlessly. It powered up after a few minutes, and was ready for Ms. Jolie\'s ministrations.
In the meantime, though, she was at the chemistry workstation, mixing, separating, spinning, and heating various chemicals. With a final \"Aha!\", she carried a beaker over to the table with the shrouded mass.
She pulled the sheet back with slight haste. She exposed the form of Alexander, the magnum opus of human scientific effort. In less than an hour, Angelina Jolie would bring a dead being back to life.
Many stitches covered its surface, for she had to attain suitable parts from many different corpses. Hence the exhumation of coffins.
It had taken particularly long to find a suitably large penis. After all, she wasn\'t doing it for the benefit of man. She was doing it for her own benefit as well. If she couldn\'t find a good guy on her own, she had decided that she would make one.
Eventually, she had just seduced Shaquille O\'Neal and did the old switcheroo with Shaq\'s dong and three dildos taped together. So far, nobody seemed to have noticed the difference.
Angelina poured the liquid from the beaker into Alexander\'s mouth. Stage one: Complete.
She walked over to the machinery and dialed in an instruction. Immediately, the table began to rise. The skylight above it opened automatically to accomodate it.
She climbed a separate ladder to the roof. She approached the elevated platform and connected electrodes from several lightning rods to Alexander\'s nipples (the manly kind). she then disrobed and mounted his member, awaiting the storm to arrive.
It came within ten minutes. Thunder and lightning crashed all around the luxurious building. Finally, a lightning bolt crashed into the lightning rod, sending 1.21 gigawatts into Alexander\'s prone body. Its penis immediately stiffened and the table lowered.
Alexander and Angelina spent the rest of their lives together fucking, and every time Angelina always felt a low surge of electricity running through her.
~~~
Brad and Steve were doing a last-minute check on their tuxedoes.
\"For the last time, man, are you absolutely sure about this?\" Steve asked his brother, Brad.
\"Positive,\" Brad replied, with a smile on his face.
It had been a landmark Supreme Court ruling that allowed Brad to be there that day. He was finally going to marry the love of his life: electricity.
Of course, the concept of electricity itself had no physical embodiment. So Brad had chosen to marry a cattle prod. Hundreds of people around the world were marrying their true love concepts, as well.
They entered the main room of the cathedral and took their positions, Brad as the groom and Steve as the best man.
THe organ started up. Brad turned to watch the foreman of the local power plant carry the cattle prod down the aisle; Brad thought it fitting that he be the one to give away the bride.
The priest began. \"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, in the sight of...oh, fuck that, God would never approve of this. Mr. Henries,\" -- Brad\'s last name -- \"You are a disgusting sinner who should burn in the eyes of God!\"
Brad rolled his eyes. He thought something like this would happen. He had a plan, though.
\"I have a recording of you in your office from 3:00 yesterday afternoon, Father.\" (Note: Father is used here as a title of a man of the church, not as a familial reference)
The priest paled. \"As I was saying, we are gathered here in the sight of...God...to witness the union of Brad Henries and electricity in holy matrimony.\"
The rest of the wedding went off without a hitch, and Brad and electricity lived happily ever after for the rest of Brad\'s life.
~~~
20 years later.
My hunt for this fiend has finally reached its climax: I\'m in his office, forty stories up, in New York City. One of us is leaving this office dead.
\"Have a seat, Billy,\" he offers.
\"You\'ll forgive me if I refuse,\" I coldly reply.
\"That\'s alright, then.\" He lights a cigar. \"I suppose you don\'t want a cigar, either. They\'re Cubans, you know.\"
\"Let\'s get right down to business, Mendoza.\" He nods. I quickly draw a gun on him.
\"Hey, now, you wouldn\'t shoot an unarmed man, now would you?\" he quickly stammers.
I mime thinking for a moment. \"You\'re right,\" I finally say. Relief spreads on his face. \"Fortunately, you have two arms.\"
Two taps from my reliable .45 Magnum fixes that problem easily. Instead of blood gushing out, though, I see the familiar sight of his exposed mimetic polyalloy. Yes, I had found out years ago that Mendoza was actually a T-1000.
\"Very cute,\" he admonishes, before absorbing the arms back through his feet and growing new ones.
\"I\'ve got a new one for ya,\" I inform him, then remove a gun which very few people had seen for 20 years. He pales.
\"Say hello to Electricman, you fucking bastard.\" I pause, and then: \"No, wait. You\'ll be going to hell. You won\'t be seeing him there.\" And I fire.
Thousands of volts of electricity shoot through Mendoza\'s body from Electricman\'s repaired gun. THe shocks throw him out the window of his fortieth-story office, right into a vat of molten steel I had prepared on the road below. Mendoza thrashes about some, and finally melts.
~~~
I approach the grave where Molly crouches, still mourning. I look at the tombstone for what has to be the thousandth time in my life.
HERE LIES ELECTRICMAN
1905-1942
EVILDOERS BEWARE
\"Is it over?\" she asks.
\"Yeah. Mendoza\'s dead.\"
She stands and we begin to walk off.
\"This looks like the start of a beautiful friendship.\"
That wonderful old song starts echoing through my head...
You must remember this,
A kiss is still a kiss.
A sigh is just a sigh.
The fundamental things apply...
As time goes by.
Watch for Seven Sick Short Stories 3: Return of the Cat\'s Eye!
First, though, i had the tub filled with copper pennies, until the water reached nearly to the top. I was practically covered in the pennies.
Also, several more halved extension cords were placed in my ears, my mouth, my nose, and two in my rectum.
Plus, I had my friend place two TVs in the tub and plugged them into the same extension cord that he was getting ready to plug in.
Oh, and I was wrapped entirely in tinfoil, except for the various holes.
So, the instant my friend plugged the cord in, millions of volts of electricity filled the tub instantly. My hair instantly burst into fire, and within seconds both my eyeballs popped like little balloons. It took a little over twenty seconds for my internal organs to fry sufficiently enough to kill me, but by then my brain was a seething cauldron, bubbling out from my sockets. The water began boiling, and all the pennies and other metal in the tub started fusing together. The TV tubes exploded, sending glass pieces cutting into my now-frying skin, quickly turning from an off-white to a golden brown to a charred black. Fortunately, I was well past feeling pain by this point.
It took about two minutes for all the metal to fuse together in one huge lump and for all the water to evaporate. By this time, most of my exposed body was aflame, my skeleton already poking through in places. The ground around the tub began to char and smoulder.
My friend quickly vacated the house. By the time he left, I had already blown power out throughout the entire neighborhood. Fire quickly spread throughout the house, from my bathroom to the dining room, kitchen, living room, bedrooms.... my grandmother was still asleep in her bed, and she awoke screaming as the flames consumed her. She died under thirty seconds later, more from shock and smoke inhalations than the undoubtedly fatal burns.
At about this time the fire department arrived. It took them about 45 minutes to extinguish the fire; by then, the house was gutted. My parents had been called, and they were sobbing in mourning behind one of the firetrucks. One of the firefighters holds up a large chunk of meat and shouts out, \"What\'s this?\" My mom look and and, grief-consumed and sobbing, stuttered \"M-m-my s-s-s-son\'s pet cat,\" and then broke into a new round of sobbing.
Several days later, police arrested my friend after investigns hns had showed he played a large part in my demise. Three years later, the Federal Appeals Judge ruled that he would indeed get the death penalty -- the electric chair.
My father simply pined away several months after the fire, and mother killed herself some weeks after. My death had a lasting affect on a countless number of people, each of whom directly affected or indirectly connected with the people whose lives ended due to the fire. The community began to hold an annual fundraiser, which promoted electrical safety awareness.
If such a program had been instituted before I climbed into that bathtub, I wouldn\'t have been the catalyst in a huge web of anguish. Those deaths are all on my head, and I will never be able to redeem myself.
~~~
Hello, I am a matri-pyro-necro-electro-suicide-philiac.
What that means is I want to have sex with my dead mother while set on fire and electricity coursing through me, climaxing as I kill myself.
Today, I\'ve decided to fulfill my ultimate sexual fantasy.
I started the day by driving to Morning Crest Cemetary, where mother was buried two weeks ago. It is 12:00 AM.
I remove a shovel from the back of my SUV, walk to her grave, and begin digging.
Several hourter,ter, I hit pay dirt -- or rather, her coffin. Using the spade as a crowbar, I pry open the lid.
There she is. Hi, mom!
she looks well-preserved, though I guess the worms hadn\'t gotten around to burrowing inside the coffin yet. Oh well, just means I won\'t have to spend time cleaning her or anything.
I hoist her corpse out of the grave and carry it back to my truck. I set her in the seat beside me. If by some distant chance I am pulled over, it merely looks as if she is quite ill. Unless you notice her lack of breath.
I drive straight home and lay her out in bed. I still have some preparations.
First, I drive to the nearby gas station. I put five dollars\' worth gasoline in the spare tank I brought with me. As I pay, the clerk wishes me a good day.
\"Oh, it\'s gonna be a great one,\" I respond.
I then stop by the hardware store, for some copper wire. This time, the cashier asks what I\'m going to do with the wire.
\"Oh, I\'m just going to use it to help me fuck my dead mother.\" Her face goes slack as I pay and leave.
I return home with my purchases. I don\'t really have anything else to do, so I\'ll get right down to it.
First, I strip both myself and mother. Then, I douse her with gasoline. Mmm, that\'s a nice smell (don\'t get me wrong, I\'m not a huffer). I wrap the wiring around mother -- and my own genitalia -- and connect it to a low-voltage generator. I lay myself on her, when...
\"Stop!\" I turn; it\'s the cashier girl from the hardware store! Only something\'s...not quite right. For one, she has a dick about a foot long.
\"I can make this more fun for you, you know,\" she informs me. \"How?\" I ask.
\"Well, I\'m an alien, and I can do these cool things like share thoughts and feelings -- yes, even erotic feelings. I can also prevent tissue from being damaged by fire and electricity, and I can also bring you back from immediate death,\" she said, gesturing to the gun over there.
I eagerly nodded, unable to talk since my cock stole all my blood. She climbed atop me, and I suddenly realized what other -philia I was:
Hermaphrodite.
~~~
I remember it like it was yesterday.
There used to be this great radio show called \'Electricman\', where this guy who built an electricity gun fought evildoers. This was just before the dawn of television. I was seven.
I was one of the lucky few children who won the contest to go see a live broadcast of the first episode of the Electricman television series. Boy, was I excited. It was the greatest moment of my entire life...except for that time I pushed little Suzy Jenkins in the mud.
So, I sat front-row center. Within minutes, the show began.
\"Evildoers beware, Electricman will zap you there!\" I know, it was a lame tagline. But as I said, I was seven, gimme a break. I would have liked it no matter the cheese factor.
Several minutes into the show, the scene called for Electricman to use his gun for the first time. He lifted it up, pulled the trigger, and immediately I knew something was wrong.
All his hair was standing straight up. He started shaking like a rocketship that was about to take off. His face turned into a horrified grimace.
Somebody had rewired his gun so that the current ran straight into him, somehow.
It was then I noticed his sidekick, Lightbulb Boy, laughing like a madman. \"What stupid plot contrivance is going to save you now, Electricman?\" he laughed. \"None, that\'s why! Because I am now the star of this show!\" I suddenly realized what was happening, and had to take action.
I whipped out my .44 Magnum and drew a bead on Lightbulb Boy. The expression on his face looked shocked first, then the curtain stained with blood behind him. Only because I blew a hole through his head, though. I fired two more shots rapid-fire into his chest, just in case. Yeah, right. I wanted him to suffer.
The last three shots were fired at Electricman\'s electric gun, destroying it and breaking the electricity hurting him. I ran up and noticed the pungent odor of shit; the electricity had made him lose control of all his muscles, including his spincter.
\"Electricman, please don\'t die!\" I begged.
\"Little Billy,\" he whispered. \"Tell Molly...I love her.\" And then he died in my arms.
I stood up, and cried out one word: the name of the man who I knew was responsible for my hero\'s death.
\"MENDOZA!\"
Then I squatted down really quick and scooped some of Electricman\'s shit out of his pants.
~~~
In the year 2525, man is indeed still alive. And swearing is a crime.
Persons who swear go to the Cursefield Maximum Security Prison, where electrodes are inserted into their rectums. If a person utters a swear word, the electrode activates, and ten thousand volts of electricity shoots directly into their rectum.
However, as we zoom in on a group of our intrepid prisoners, we see that there is a problem...
\"Number 1138 is getting off on the electrical jolts!\" Prisoner 7374 complained to Prisoner 9372.
\"How do you figure?\" 9372 asked.
\"Just LOOK!\" he gestured. They both turned.
1138 had his pants down and was furiously jerking his erection, shouting out \"SHIT!\" and \"FUCK!\" and other swear words once every two or three seconds.
\"We\'ve got to do something,\" 9372 finally decided.
He and 7374 worked for hours, trying to find something to cure 1138 of his condition. Finally, they stumbled onto an old book which had everything they needed.
\"OK, we need to get the help of everybody else in the prison,\" 7374 decided.
THe news passed along the grapevine. \"Big meeting at 7:00 PM tonight in the courtyard, pass it on.\"
A bunch of people showed up. 9372 gave people different instructions while 7374 passed out things that they would need.
Days passed by. Finally, they were ready.
7374 went to 1138\'s bunker. \"For God\'s sake, 1138, put your pants on for at least ten minutes. Come on, there\'s something I want to show you.\"
He led him to the courtyard, where a stage and a single chair had been erected. He then went up on stage.
\"And now, the Cursefield Maximum Security Prison\'s Thespian Society is proud to announce its production of: Beauty and the Beast!\"
The curtain rose, and the show began. 9372\'s favorite part was their rendition of \"Be Our Guest\".
The show finally ended. 7374 approached 1138 and asked him: \"So, 1138, do you want to masturbate over electricity now?\"
\"No.\" He sighed with relief.
\"I want to masturbate over a woman having sex with a dog.\"
They had opened up a whole new can of worms.
~~~
Angelina Jolie shrugged off her coat as she entered her luxurious Hollywood home.
She went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. As she drank it, she read the news. \"Coffins unearthed; police baffled\" the headline said. She \'hmm\'ed and threw the paper into her recycling.
She entered her living room briefly and turned on the Weather Channel. \"Thunderstorms,\" she bemusedly said to herself.
She flipped off the TV and passed through the kitchen to soak her now-empty cup. Tonight was the night.
The actress strode into her bedroom and activated the hidden switch. A panel in the wall slid open. She entered, and it automatically closed behind her. \"Hello, Angelina,\" the computerized feminine voice greeted her. \"Hello, Annie.\"
The corridor ended at what was clearly a laboratory. One section had a notable chemistry-themed setup, while another section was devoted to machinery. A third section held a table with a large bulk; a sheet was draped over i
\"
\"Hello, Alexander,\" she called out to nobody in sight.
She walked over to the machinery and began inputting a complex series of instructions quickly and flawlessly. It powered up after a few minutes, and was ready for Ms. Jolie\'s ministrations.
In the meantime, though, she was at the chemistry workstation, mixing, separating, spinning, and heating various chemicals. With a final \"Aha!\", she carried a beaker over to the table with the shrouded mass.
She pulled the sheet back with slight haste. She exposed the form of Alexander, the magnum opus of human scientific effort. In less than an hour, Angelina Jolie would bring a dead being back to life.
Many stitches covered its surface, for she had to attain suitable parts from many different corpses. Hence the exhumation of coffins.
It had taken particularly long to find a suitably large penis. After all, she wasn\'t doing it for the benefit of man. She was doing it for her own benefit as well. If she couldn\'t find a good guy on her own, she had decided that she would make one.
Eventually, she had just seduced Shaquille O\'Neal and did the old switcheroo with Shaq\'s dong and three dildos taped together. So far, nobody seemed to have noticed the difference.
Angelina poured the liquid from the beaker into Alexander\'s mouth. Stage one: Complete.
She walked over to the machinery and dialed in an instruction. Immediately, the table began to rise. The skylight above it opened automatically to accomodate it.
She climbed a separate ladder to the roof. She approached the elevated platform and connected electrodes from several lightning rods to Alexander\'s nipples (the manly kind). she then disrobed and mounted his member, awaiting the storm to arrive.
It came within ten minutes. Thunder and lightning crashed all around the luxurious building. Finally, a lightning bolt crashed into the lightning rod, sending 1.21 gigawatts into Alexander\'s prone body. Its penis immediately stiffened and the table lowered.
Alexander and Angelina spent the rest of their lives together fucking, and every time Angelina always felt a low surge of electricity running through her.
~~~
Brad and Steve were doing a last-minute check on their tuxedoes.
\"For the last time, man, are you absolutely sure about this?\" Steve asked his brother, Brad.
\"Positive,\" Brad replied, with a smile on his face.
It had been a landmark Supreme Court ruling that allowed Brad to be there that day. He was finally going to marry the love of his life: electricity.
Of course, the concept of electricity itself had no physical embodiment. So Brad had chosen to marry a cattle prod. Hundreds of people around the world were marrying their true love concepts, as well.
They entered the main room of the cathedral and took their positions, Brad as the groom and Steve as the best man.
THe organ started up. Brad turned to watch the foreman of the local power plant carry the cattle prod down the aisle; Brad thought it fitting that he be the one to give away the bride.
The priest began. \"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, in the sight of...oh, fuck that, God would never approve of this. Mr. Henries,\" -- Brad\'s last name -- \"You are a disgusting sinner who should burn in the eyes of God!\"
Brad rolled his eyes. He thought something like this would happen. He had a plan, though.
\"I have a recording of you in your office from 3:00 yesterday afternoon, Father.\" (Note: Father is used here as a title of a man of the church, not as a familial reference)
The priest paled. \"As I was saying, we are gathered here in the sight of...God...to witness the union of Brad Henries and electricity in holy matrimony.\"
The rest of the wedding went off without a hitch, and Brad and electricity lived happily ever after for the rest of Brad\'s life.
~~~
20 years later.
My hunt for this fiend has finally reached its climax: I\'m in his office, forty stories up, in New York City. One of us is leaving this office dead.
\"Have a seat, Billy,\" he offers.
\"You\'ll forgive me if I refuse,\" I coldly reply.
\"That\'s alright, then.\" He lights a cigar. \"I suppose you don\'t want a cigar, either. They\'re Cubans, you know.\"
\"Let\'s get right down to business, Mendoza.\" He nods. I quickly draw a gun on him.
\"Hey, now, you wouldn\'t shoot an unarmed man, now would you?\" he quickly stammers.
I mime thinking for a moment. \"You\'re right,\" I finally say. Relief spreads on his face. \"Fortunately, you have two arms.\"
Two taps from my reliable .45 Magnum fixes that problem easily. Instead of blood gushing out, though, I see the familiar sight of his exposed mimetic polyalloy. Yes, I had found out years ago that Mendoza was actually a T-1000.
\"Very cute,\" he admonishes, before absorbing the arms back through his feet and growing new ones.
\"I\'ve got a new one for ya,\" I inform him, then remove a gun which very few people had seen for 20 years. He pales.
\"Say hello to Electricman, you fucking bastard.\" I pause, and then: \"No, wait. You\'ll be going to hell. You won\'t be seeing him there.\" And I fire.
Thousands of volts of electricity shoot through Mendoza\'s body from Electricman\'s repaired gun. THe shocks throw him out the window of his fortieth-story office, right into a vat of molten steel I had prepared on the road below. Mendoza thrashes about some, and finally melts.
~~~
I approach the grave where Molly crouches, still mourning. I look at the tombstone for what has to be the thousandth time in my life.
HERE LIES ELECTRICMAN
1905-1942
EVILDOERS BEWARE
\"Is it over?\" she asks.
\"Yeah. Mendoza\'s dead.\"
She stands and we begin to walk off.
\"This looks like the start of a beautiful friendship.\"
That wonderful old song starts echoing through my head...
You must remember this,
A kiss is still a kiss.
A sigh is just a sigh.
The fundamental things apply...
As time goes by.
Watch for Seven Sick Short Stories 3: Return of the Cat\'s Eye!