BOC-- Part 9


Posted by nigel1 on August 04, 2002 at 10:32:31:

He did it. He really did it. He had that big-boobed sexy-butted legless girl, that erotic double amputee in his little apartment-- an apartment that used to be a garage, out behind the house of "Widder Koontz", his aged landlady. The lights were not merely low, they were off. The only light in the room, now that it was dark out and starting to be romantic, came from the flickering phosphors of his tv screen. He had his battered old portable set tuned to a favorite show, a show that exerted a snake-like charm over the Viet Nam vet. It was a local Corpus Christi production, unique to the area and not likely ever to be syndicated. Parents were expected to take the little kiddies and plunk them down to watch half-an-hour of the Kappy Dick Show, as a prelude to bedtime and the onset of childish night terrors. The neat thing about it was that Kappy Dick was a veteren too, another hero, but of the Korean War. But this one had not got his penis shot off. No, he was another double amputee, like the coed he'd snared that night. Kappy got both of his legs blown up, so that they had had to be sawed off just below the knees. He was a natural as a pegleg pirate on a kid's tv show. What made it a real laff riot was the fact that Kappy Dick wobbled around the deck of the good ship "Dicky Bird" on TWO peglegs. He could scarcely stand upright for five seconds at a time. BOOF! BASH! It was one pratfall after another, sandwiched between WWII vintage Popeye cartoons and commercials. The vet, Peter Dick by name, sat on the edge of his chair, twisting his amazing hands together. There was something about the show he found fascinating, but it also made him anxious. But there was another motive for tuning in at this time. With Kappy Dick crashing and bashing and toppling, yelping in pain and knocking over cardboard sets, he felt he could disguise whatever noises his amputee girl friend might make-- noises Moira would emit as he had his will with her. The Widder Koontz crept up to his little apartment's windows, he was sure, and tried occasionally to peep in and/or eavesdrop. But all his windows were tightly shuttered, blinds drawn for this special occasion. He hated the Widder Koontz. She looked a lot like Norman Bates's mother, after he exhumed her, in Psycho. And she smelled the way you'd expect a corpse to smell. But her apartment was only $45 per month, bills paid. A fairly good deal in a town like Corpus Christi. He stepped over Moira's squirming naked body and turned up the volume. OW! ARGH! THAT HURT! Kappy Dick moaned, rubbing his bruised chin. Blood dribbled out of his nose. Children, somewhere off camera, squealed in delight as the funny pirate struggled to remain erect. Krappy Dick Show, the vet mumbled to himself. Kappy wobbled a few steps toward the camera, panic in his eyes, then dropped out of sight, yelping. The next Popeye adventure began, another epic battle against japs and nazis.
Peter had carried Moira into his apartment like a bride. She hardly knew what to do. She was embarrassed. She really had wanted to come in, but her wheelchair wouldn't squeeze through the door. And if Peter hadn't bought himself a used delivery van, he'd never have managed to get her even that far. But once he'd set his heart on Moira, he'd covered the various logistical angles like a good soldier-- after all, it was sort of a campaign. This was a lonely girl, he'd realized, after their first few halting conversations. She was shy and funny and sweet. And trusting. Trusting made things much easier for him. On their first real date, he decided to move swiftly. In the apartment, holding her in his arms, he realized he'd better get her wheelchair out of sight. He'd left it at the front step. Moira blushed and giggled. She seemed actually to be quite happy, and quite excited. She hadn't noticed the carpet of shower curtains in the room, completely covering the floor. Duct tape sealed every seam. He opened his arms suddenly and dumped her on her lovely butt. She gasped. As he bent quickly over her he looked closely at her face and savored what he saw there, even as he struck her temple. While she was stunned he bound her hands behind her back. She wore a plaid skirt, a tartan design of red and black folded and pinned-- mostly empty space under there of course, so it was very easy to yank off. A button or two went flying. Her modest highwaisted cotton panties came next, and he stuffed these between her lips before he sealed her mouth with a patch of duct tape. Then he tore her white blouse to shreds getting it off. But he let her keep her bra. He wanted those big breasts held up, and out, and squeezed together on her chest. When the bra came off later, it would be like unwrapping a package. Then he stepped out, looked quickly around, collapsed her wheelchair and hurled it into the kitchen, out of the way. His timing was impeccable. He turned on the tv. The Kappy Dick theme had just begun:

Oh there was a Dopey Pirate,
And of laigs he did have none,
He always was a fallin'
and bustin' up his bum.
He could not steal no money
So on tv he went
to flop and fall and trip and shout:
Look at me! Whoopeee!
I am a igno-runt lout!
Teeeeeeee Heeeeeeeee!