Chapters of Chastication

Exercise in Supidity
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2005-03-02 00:59:05 (UTC)

Fifth Chapter: The Creep's Mother and the Police

The police converged on the rundown apartment three weeks
after the shrink had been discovered with the self-
inflicted bullet wound in his head. The man’s remains had
been cremated and his belongings sold to pay for the
funeral. To the officers working the case it had been a
tragedy twenty years in the making. The shrink, once a
prominent member of the psychiatric community, had been
virtually stalked to his death by an unwanted client.

Not everything was documented, but what had become clear to
those sifting through the dead man’s documents, and what
was verified by the blood samples, was that he had been
given large dosages of the rape drug throughout the year
and forced into compromising positions. The perpetrator
had apparently been taking pictures and the shrink believed
strongly that images of the shrink shoving something up the
perpetrator’s ass had been sent throughout the net.

The housing unit where the police investigators now found
themselves was one of many buildings crammed together in
what was believed to be the state’s highest crime
neighborhood. It was a breeding ground for the inbred and
socially discarded and forgotten. The street was littered
with garbage, derelict vehicles, and the unwashed bodies of
drug addicts, homeless people, and hookers plying their
trade and sleeping where they fell, often molested by
others in their blackouts.

It was in this neighborhood that the police had conducted a
pamphlet blitz, posting a composite sketch on just about
every surface they could find to warn those who lived and
worked in the neighborhood to be on the look out for a
serial rapist and murderer.

The front door of the building had been previously kicked
in and the officers advanced careful not to brush up
against the piss and shit stained walls, their heavy boots
crunching on the spent needles and bullet casings.

Fielding held his gun as he moved passed into an entrance
with its walls spray painted and chunks of missing chunks
of plaster where bodies had been tossed. He lifted a hand,
pointed to several of the officers to take their positions,
and descended the stairs, moving past the boiler room and
the door at the far end of the unlit hall.

He barely noticed the water stained, peeling wallpaper or
the bags of garbage in his way. Cobwebs brushed his face
as he ducked the ducts and leaking pipes while his stepped
in liquid that made him think of an overrun toilet at a
shitfest. He lifted a booted foot and kicked the apartment
door open.

“Don’t move a good damn muscle,” he shouted into the small,
bachelor apartment. The woman on the couch dropped her
crack pipe with a start and struggled to cover the drugs
with her lap blanket. She either didn’t appear to notice
that she was naked, or she didn’t care. He thought it was
more likely, however, that she welcomed his attention as
most old whores in this area were inclined to do.

“Where is he?” Fielding waved the gun at the woman; two
more officers burst in after him and did a quick search of
the surroundings. There was a fat woman on a couch, and
unless she had their perp up her ass, there was nowhere he
could be hiding.

The t.v dinner tray in front of the woman was pressed up
against her pitted knees and on it was an ashtray
overflowing with cigarette butts of several different
brands- perhaps collected and brought to her as she didn’t
seem capable of moving- and can of half-eaten cat food. A
bucket of piss was beneath the couch and he shuddered to
think that there was a hole in the chair to allow her
freedom to relieve herself without moving.

Fielding noticed that the only artwork in the space
appeared to be a wall of magazine articles and body cut-
outs with the faces all the same. The face looked like that
X-man character in the movies. He narrowed his gaze and
took a step closer only to stop and wonder why all the
bodies were positioned in such a way as to have what
appeared to be their asses in the air with glossy catalogue
images of lamps shoved up their backsides. Fielding
suspected that this was probably something of a family
photo album, judging the the prominence of the pictures on
the wall.

He turned his face to take in the rest of the room. There
was an old dresser without drawers
in the corner with clothes stuffed into the openings and a
soiled blanket on the floor by a computer with a bunched up
shirt at one end presumably serving as a pillow.

"Where is he," he repeated, circling the room. He did not
miss the fact that the woman had shifted in her chair just
before a noxious odour had sprung up in the room.

“Where’s who?”

“Your son. Where is he?”

“That good fer nothin’ stupid son of a bitch,” the woman
spat. “What in god damn hell has that rat bastard of an
idiot done now? The Creep. I ain’t seen his sorry, fat,
swollen asshole in days. What do you want with that prick
anyway? Say,” she squinted and pressed a hand to her neck,
drawing attention to the bite marks on her breasts and
bruises around her neck, “you’re not here to bust him for
giving blow jobs again, are you?”

“We just need to talk to him. Where is he lady, and I
don’t have time for bullshit. Hands where I can see them,”
and not, he thought, between her thighs where they were
moving.

“Just need to talk,” she scoffed and shook her head. “He’s
a stupid one for talking. Ain’t made any sense since I
first took the ball gag out of his mouth. Hah. Child
protection services took him from me, sayin’ that I weren’t
raising him right and was abusin’ him. Seems as though I
were right when I told ‘em government people he was a
worthless, no good, stupid fuck after all. I’d like to
tell ‘em I told you so, I would. Police ain’t here to see
me now, are you? No sirree, they’re here for his sorry
ass.”

“You know where he is. Things could be easier on you, or a
lot harder.”

“Harder? Ain’t had hard since his old man died. Boy’s just
soft around the balls, if you know what I mean. Ahh,
hell.” She started to reach for a butt but was stopped when
she saw the guns flick back towards her. “Ifn’ I were
t’tell you where he is, would I get an award or somethin’?
Since yer takin’ m’boy I sure as shit should get somethin’,
shouldn’t I?”

“Right. What’s that over there?” He gestured towards the
computer in the corner. The small monitor appeared to have
been punched or kicked in and the tower looked no better.
There was some sort of substance on the keyboard, but
Fielding wasn’t quite ready to ask about that.

“Stupid ass, yelling at that thing night an’ day, day an’
night. Even if it weren’t turned on, he was yellin’.
Tossin’, turnin’, keeping me up so as I can’t sleep.
Somethin’ about wind licking trees, fuck me if’n I know.”
She paused, inclined her head so that one jowl seemed too
dangle longer than the other. “Just be screaming at him,
and rightly so, they would be. Callin’ him all sorts of
names that he’s been called all his life. Should have been
used to it by now.”

“The net? In chat rooms? He’d go to chat rooms?” Fielding
swore under his breath.

“Sure as shit he did. Getting naked and lying in front of
the camera, weren’t turned on when he was being yelled.
Ain’t sure that anyone would care t’see him. He’d get all
hard an’ in that submissive pose of his, ass sticking in
the air. Had to shove a vibrator up his ass to keep the
bitch from begging so loud. Ain’t no crime in that, is
it?” She looked up Fielding, concern evident in her
expression for the first time. “I ain’t doin’ jail for that
shit.”

“No, no crime in that,” at least he didn’t think so. “What
else?”

“Oh. They’d make him cry and then he’d jerk and cry. Storm
out of here more and more. He’d be gone for hours, come
back smelling like piss and shit and beaten, bloody. Very
bloody. Begging me on his hands an’ knees to be entering
the room. That ain’t normal shit. Same thing as that
girl told him on the net, I said. Don’t want to keep
shoving a vibrator up his ass like some sissy boy.”

She paused for a time and seemed to chew her tongue. “Say,
he didn’t go and hurt one of them girls he’s been stalking
on the net, did he? I told him. They ain’t gonna treat him
no better than his momma, I did tell. Always screamin’
at ‘em while sittin’ there on his hands an’ knees with tha’
chain around ‘is neck, getting hard an’ angry an’ cryin’
when they were sayin’ mean things t’him. Kept givin’ him
sex but he said he wanted somethin’ different. Like it’d
be different for the pussy if someone else were shovin’ one
of ‘em plastic pricks up his ass but me.”

Momma crooked a finger at Fielding and lowered her voice,
looking from side to side as if she was going to impart
some great bit of information to him. “Been hangin’ around
that gas station ‘fore that girl went missing, he has.
Figure he’s done jerkin’ himself stupid on that cam, there,
an’ in for the real thing. Met someone on line, I bet he
has. Talking high and mighty, how he was leavin’ me for
someone new. Flyin’ the coop, he said.”

Fielding’s cell phone rang and he stepped aside to answer
it in private. “Fielding here. Bobbi? What? Frequent air
miles? What the hell are you talking about? Huh?” He
lowered the phone and shouted to the officers in the
room. “Where the hell does a person get frequent air miles
around here.”

“Grocery store.”

“Dry cleaners, as far as I know.”

“Gas station,” added the mother with a smirk on her face.

“Son of a bitch,” Fielding cursed. “Yeah, there is a
connection. Gotta go.” He shut the phone off and turned to
his men. “Seems our gas station vic’s air miles card was
stolen and some stupid, sorry assed son of a bitch has had
them cashed in for a one way ticket.”

He was about to leave the apartment when he paused and
looked at the woman once more. "You called him something.
Something like," he snapped his fingers. "A Creep. Why?"

"Hah, ain't all I've called him, but it's what everyone
else has always called him. Strange fish around the gills,
y'know? Wouldn't trust him not to hump a dead dog if I was
looking straight at him."


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