Random excerpts from non-existent stories - II

A man sits duct-taped to a folding metal chair in the backroom of a liquor store. He's badly beaten. Blood has painted his shirt as the man dealing the pain sits across from him taking a smoke break.

"You sure you don't want one?" the man asked while holding up a pack of cigarettes.

"Nah, I quit." said the beaten man.

"That's good. It adds years to ya life they say."

Another man stands feet away, watching it all play out.

"How long you gonna beat me for?"

"Til we get what we need..."

"Well I already told ya, I don't know nothin'..."

The seated smoking man stands, flicks his cigarette butt and rekindles the relationship between his right fist and the bleeding man's face. The sounds of thinly-fleshed bone fill the room with a dank thud. Every blow, turning the man's head, sending tendrils of blood onto his already stained clothing.

"A name. That's all. And you can walk out of here. No hard feelings." promised the man with raw knuckles.

"I can't give ya what I ain't got. So go fuck ya mother, ya fuckin' pig."

The man stood there, looking down on this worthless small-time thug. An "associate" of some very powerful people. But on his own, he was nobody. A big nothing. One thing for sure, he could take a beating!

"Let me try..." said the other man.

"Be my guest."


If this prick didn't break soon, Newark Bay would have one more resident lining it's littered floor.