Interactive Snuff Show
Posted by Rathead on June 24, 2004 at 03:21:42:
Interactive Snuff Show
"FrAAAAAAnk!!! Move your fat ASS over here!"
Dolores--God, how I hated this ugly cunt and her shrill voice! Why did she have to be my boss? Only because she could read and write fluently while I hadn't attended school for more than three years? Only because she was an Americano while I'm a more or less legal immigrant?
"Are you dreaming?! This pipe is blocked up again! Sweep it!"
The only thing I hated even more than Dolores was my lousy job at this water treatment plant! Millions of dopey, retarded cunts out there throwing their tampons and sanity pads into the toilets--and a good guy like me had to keep the pipes free!
Anyway, only thirty minutes yet till the shift was over. It was Friday--and tonight I would see some sluts getting what they really deserved! And I wouldn't only see it--I would be taking part in the show. I would be one of the judges ...and I was not in the mood for mercy! Actually, I'm never in that mood!
Absent-minded, I worked through the last minutes of this workweek while I fantasized about the fun to come. Three six-packs of Bud Light, some Fatburgers, and an extra large heap of fries--and ten young bitches at my mercy. Unfortunately, three of them would survive the show, that was the rule, but I would decide which of them would not survive. And I would decide how they were done. Although I was only one of the judges, one of approximately five hundred, but my vote was important, it could be decisive. What a glorious power!
When I stood in the subway on my way home, I though of the chicks that were to be the "stars" at the Instant Justice Show this night. Their portraits had been on the net during the last week. Some luscious pieces of meat! I had looked at them each night, and I had wanked off several times staring at the three dimensional images from all sides, anticipating their squealing when they were dragged to the execution machines. But the guys of Instant Justice were smart: The bitches were dressed with bikinis on the images--they wanted to maintain the pleasure anticipation of the customers--you wouldn't see the best before the show ...when the sluts would do their last striptease. Hehehe!
* * *
At home in the stinking rat hole where I lived, I arranged the beer and the fodder on the table, curled down on the couch, and put on the cyber-net-helmet and the cyber-glove. I would have run amok if the devices had crashed this night! But everything seemed to be cool: The update on Windows 2022 had been worth doing. Much less problems than with the fucking Windows 2020 that had crashed all the time!
Thank god we have these intelligent net devices now--only ten years ago you had to use a keyboard and read and write to use the net. Unbelievable! All the fun only for the eggheads! Now I can simply talk to my cyber-helmet, it understands me perfectly, it has a sexy, female voice, and she knows how to talk to a gentleman:
"Good evening Sir. Did you have a pleasant day?"
"Shut up your cunt and connect me with Instant Justice!"
"Very well, Sir."
My room faded and I found myself in the lobby of Instant Justice. I looked around--yeah, perfect view, no picture distortions. Sound was okay too. A hostess came and told me that the live access was to be opened in thirty minutes and the show would start in fifty minutes. Gee ...these hostesses are hot chicks! Hard to believe that they are nothing but bots. Well, who cares? Should I take another look at the pics of the girls? No, I'd better wait till the live transmission starts, I had enough time then to look at them in their cells before they were brought to the execution hall.
"Log out."
"Yes, Sir, we're offline now."
The lobby disappeared and I was back in my flat again. I took off the helmet. If I only had more money! This helmet wasn't bad, but I could only see and hear with it--if I could afford an interface implant I would have smell and taste and everything else, too. Shit, one day I must find a way to make some real money. My membership fees at Instant Justice cost a third of the lousy wage they were paying me at the plant--and there were even much better shows on the net. With more chicks and with better chicks. If I had real money I could see them all. Hey, I could even buy me my own slaves--God, that would be fun!
I ate one of the burgers and killed the first can of Bud.
I burped.
I burped again.
Hey, I don't know anyone who can burp as loud as me! Maybe that was a way to make money? Maybe I could perform that on a show? Yeah, I should think that through! Tomorrow or next week ...
I went to the kitchen to fetch me some ketchup. Damn--these fucking cockroaches get larger every day! And the noises they make when you stomp on them! Next month I'll probably need a club to kill them. Next year they will be stomping on me!
* * *
Back on the couch I went online again. Only five minutes to go. Standing in the lobby I once again tried to grasp what was real here and what was cyber. The hall was real; it was part of a real building in Chicago, while the hostesses were cyber. I was in the hall, though I was at home on my couch at the same time. I heard the voices of all the other customers and they could hear mine as if we were really standing in this hall. However I could not see any of them and they couldn't see me because Instant Justice doesnīt allow avatars. We were like invisible ghosts who could only make noises. Somehow creepy: This hall was empty aside some of the cyber hostesses--though it was filled with the hubbub of hundreds of voices. However: the sluts in the show have always been very real! Hey, when they've stabbed a knife into them they've always bled and screamed--and that's all the reality I really need!
And there came the fanfare--the show was to begin. The host appeared and babbled the same shit as always: That Instant Justice was proud to provide this valuable public service. That this was the place of real justice and real democracy. That at Instant Justice the decent citizens of this great nation had the privilege to directly pass sentence on the criminals who endangered public order. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
Yeah--of course he was right, this was the only kind of true justice: The bitches had broken the law and had been caught. According to the ingenious and simple rules of the New Order they all had been condemned to the sole legal punishment that was left now: They had lost their rights as citizens and human beings and had been put under the hammer as slaves. Regardless of what kind of law they had broken. Instant Justice had bought them and tonight we had the chance to be their judges in a court hearing ...well, a kind of court hearing ...it certainly wouldn't be as boring as a normal trial! And we had no Jewish hack lawyers to save their asses, no bigheads from Harvard, blathering about the sad childhood of the criminals, no weak judges letting them get away! Here at Instant Justice we, the decent citizens, are the judges and the jury. We look at the criminals, we convict them and then we send them to hell where they all belong. Especially good-looking blondes with big tits! Hahaha!
Anyway: I had heard enough bla bla--I wanted to see the sluts!
* * *
Finally the gates to the prison area were opened and we could enter. I moved ahead, using the glove on my left hand to control my moves.
The prison cells are in the basement of the building and they have designed a real cool atmosphere there! It looks like a medieval dungeon; the cells are built side by side, and you can walk along the corridor and look at the chicks through the steel bars--one of them in each cell respectively. The cells don't have much in the way of furnishing, other than some straw on the ground.
When we entered the prison area and the sound of our voices filled the place the bitches jumped to their feet, looking around confused and fearful. Of course they couldn't see any of us--but we could see them perfectly as they stood there in the flickering light of the torches.
The girl in the first cell was one of my favorites. I had looked at her pic for hours over the last few nights. A signpost informed of her name, age, and her crime.
Jean. 24. Prostitution.
I bet she had made a lot of bucks in her profession! She still wore the whore outfit she had been arrested in, exposing most of her luscious flesh. What a shameless slut! And what a pair of tits! Definitely one of the best I've ever seen. So large! Each of her tits was larger than her head--exactly as they are supposed to be! A masterpiece of surgery! She tried to hide her fear and looked wild and aggressive, shaking her old-fashioned blond lion mane. God, those gorgeous full lips! How many cocks has she sucked with them?
"Hey slut, do you wanne blow my dick?" I taunted her.
Obviously, she had heard me through the general noise of voices that were mocking and insulting the girls in the cells. She looked at me ...well, she looked in the direction where my voice had come from ...and showed me the finger!
"FUCK YOU ASSHOLE! FUCK YOU!" she shouted.
This bitch needed an appropriate answer! I swallowed the next can of Bud in one big gulp and then I let it all out: "BUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRP".
She writhed her face in disgust. No sense of humor at all! These cunts are all the same. Worthless shit!
"Can't wait to see you kicking the bucket, cunt!" I told her before I went on to the next cell.
Josephine. 20. Drug abuse.
A young, black girl with long rasta curls. Blacks are cheaper at the auctions and since Instant Justice was one of the low cost services in this field we always get a lot of blacks. Not my taste. I walked on.
Lucy. 18. Theft.
That was a sweety! Pretty features, auburn hair, perfect frame, neat clothing. The pretty cheerleader type. The girl you want to have a date with ...and never get one cause she's only dating the guys of the football team. She looked so frightened and she wept. 'So where are all your good looking fuckers now?' I thought, while I stuffed another handful of fries into my mouth. Yeah, this chick would look great when she was struggling at the end of a rope. That would be my vote.
Sally. 23. Drug abuse.
She looked sexy in a sick way: Nearly six feet high, very slim, her skin almost white, and her long hair was dark red. She looked like a witch. What a pity they didn't have pyres as an option for execution! Seeing this slut roasting--that would be fun!
Michelle. 19. Overparking.
A sweet and innocent face framed by long, curly dark hair. Below this a body that only consisted of curves! It even looked as if she still had some remnants of her puppy fat. How lovely! Definitely a candidate for beheading!
The rest of the cunts were trash: Too fat, too ugly, too black, or too old--shit, they even had an old hooker of 32 years!
* * *
Another fanfare, followed by dull drum rolls. Inspection time was over.
A group of guards, equipped with nightsticks, opened the cells and seized the chicks to bring them to the hall of justice and execution. Most of them followed obediently like dumb little lambs on the way to the slaughterhouse, some of them were crying. A few offered resistance and were tugged onwards forcibly. Jean fought and screeched like a wild cat! Futile, of course ...a whack across her ribs made her collapse and the guards easily pulled her on.
The group of girls and guards moved upstairs, followed by the crowd of hundreds of invisible spectators. I thought about whether I should apply for a job as a guard at Instant Justice ...that must be great job! I bet they are fucking the girls all the week before the show.
We entered the hall. It looked like a small theater with an audience of about two hundred people who sat at tables in front of a flat stage. A red curtain covered most of the stage. The people at the tables were bots, too; they just served the purpose of creating the atmosphere of a show.
I seated myself at a table close to the stage.
The chicks were forced to line up at the edge of the stage, accompanied by wild applause, wolf whistles, and mocking shouts. The host of the show appeared and welcomed us again.
"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, let's take a look at the instruments of justice!" he ended his introduction.
While another drum roll sounded the curtain was lifted and the spotlights focused at the back of the stage. Yeah! I couldn't believe it! There were the usual devices, the gallows, the electric chair, the guillotine, and the wall with the shackles for those who were to be killed by guns. But beside that, they had added three new devices: A garrote, a pole ...and a pyre! As if they had read my mind! I knew no one would be able to resist this! We would see one of the bitches burn. And it had to be Sally!
The sluts were staring at the instruments, too, and it was just too sweet to see how they turned pale. I loved this moment when the full truth about their fate sank into their stupid minds! I had to get out of my pants. Shit, what I really needed was a third hand: One for the glove, one for the beer and one for my dick!
And now the strip show started. While the others were forced to kneel down, the first of the girls had to present herself to the honorable judges. To us! She had to confess her crime and was allowed to plead for mercy. Since we needed to learn the naked truth for a fair judgment, she had to strip before.
The first to go was Sarah. Mid twenties, by no means ugly, but not a beauty queen either. The guards pushed her to the middle of the stage and ordered her to start. She sobbed while she pulled off her sweater, then her shoes and jeans. God, this dopey cunt had no talent for stripping at all! She didn't move in the rhythm of the music for a single second. Without any grace she just let her clothes drop to the floor to an untidy heap. As if she had no fun at all making us horny! Scornful shouts sounded while she removed her bra, blushing. What a lousy pair of tits! She would pay for insulting us this way. She was so intimidated and embarrassed by the noises of the audience that she needed some prods from the guards before she finally peeled off her panties. God, I couldn't believe it! This slut hadn't even trimmed her pussy! The crowd bawled in disgust.
Now she was handed a small microphone for her speech.
She swore that the test that had shown a trace of cannabis in her urine had been manipulated. That she had never, never taken any drugs ...yeah, slut, would you ever lie to us? All sluts are guilty! And even if they weren't guilty: It's fun to see them dying!
The moderator asked the honorable jury for their decision. Well that was easy: I've never seen that one of the girls had not been declared guilty. There was a small switchboard on the table and I casually pushed the red button that meant guilty. At the rear wall of the stage a display came to life and showed the result of our voting:
Guilty: 543
Not guilty: 4
There are always some jesters!
Anyway: This vote was of no importance--the real fun started when all the bitches had stated their pleas and we were to decide which three of them would receive amnesty. Respectively: Which seven of them to send to hell! And after that: The polls about the form of execution for each of the condemned--that was the main thrill!
Sarah of course knew nothing about how the show worked and thought she had been convicted to death already. She wailed pathetically when she was led back to the line of kneeling girls.
The next was one of the black sluts. Left me totally cold; I took the time to go piss. Hey, ainīt it a pain to piss with a hardon? That's a matter where the chicks are favored. Then again, they have to crouch down like animals when they are pissing. Anyway, I wished I had a chick with me now that would clean up the mess that I had left round the bowl.
I came back to the show right in time to press the guilty-button.
It took about an hour till all the girls had done their stripteases and confessions. I for one had finished the first of the six-packs at that time and got a little arseholed.
All of the cunts had been declared guilty, of course. Only one of the blacks and Jean had refused to cooperate--what had added a lot of additional fun to the show, especially when it had been Jean's turn: Instead of peeling off the little of cloth she wore she started to shout insults at the audience, called us a miserable pack of pathetic wankers. Well, that was a serious case of contempt of court and had to be punished immediately! The crowd started to shout rhythmically: "FUCK-MA-CHINE! FUCK-MA-CHINE! FUCK-MA-CHINE!"
Some month ago, at similar occasions we had shouted for Alex ...Alex was a huge, mean gorilla that had been trained to rape girls--and whose dick had been surgically enlarged: Would you believe that gorillas actually have tiny dicks? That had always been a highlight of the show when a struggling and screaming chick had been thrown into his cage to get the shit fucked out of her! Most of them had survived it, though his kind of lovemaking had always been of the rougher sort. This good pal even had the same likings as me: He preferred blondes and he disliked redheads. He always had got really pissed when they had given him redheads--I remember one time he had ripped off both arms and one leg of such a slut, then had seized her at the remaining leg and had smashed her head against the floor, again and again. She had become limp very soon, but he couldn't stop ...and in the end he fucked the bloody corpse. Gross! The hottest thing I've ever seen!
But then some assholes from PETA had complained about Alex' participation in the show. They considered the gorilla's partaking in the show as an infringement of the animal's legal rights. Dopey blather about insulting the "dignity" of the gorilla ...shit, I would PAY for it to get his job! Who needs fucking dignity?
Anyway, in the end he was replaced by the fuck machine that was rolled onto the stage now.
Three of the guards seized Jean and ripped away her clothes while she was screaming and biting and spitting. What a show! And how nice these watermelons were swaying when they dragged the fighting girl to the machine! Futile, of course, within a minute they had shackled her to the machine. It was a modified bull-riding machine. The most important modifications were the two huge dildos that were protruding from the saddle like a pair of underarms. The moment when the guards forced her down on them and her holes were stretched beyond everything even this whore had ever experienced the tone of her yells changed from rage to pain. Her eyes flew open as if they were about to pop out of her head! They shackled her feet tightly under the body of the machine and her hands at the saddle behind her ass--so she sat pretty straight, slightly bent backward, her marvelous tits stretched towards the audience. Waiting for the machine to come to life.
"Are we ready to start?!" The moderator asked us, teasingly.
A many-voiced hue answered him that we were indeed fucking ready for the fun.
With a smirk on his face he gave a sign to the guards and one of them pushed the start button. Instantly the machine began to move, first teetering back and forth softly, then accelerating, and finally it was skipping, bucking and rotating violently at high speed.
Jesus, could this bitch scream! Her high-pitched yells filled the entire hall, along with the smacking noises of her ass smashing down on the saddle. And her tits! Marvelous how they hurled around! A wonder that she didn't knock herself out each time one of them smashed against her face.
That was one of the best scenes I had seen at Instant Justice yet ...but then again: The longer I stared at this swirling spectacle the dizzier I began to feel. Shit, once again I had drunk too much beer in too short time ...and most of the show was still to come. I stuffed the rest of the cold, greasy fries into my mouth and ate the last burger ...I knew that would help me feeling better soon.
After we all had enjoyed Jean's wild ride for some minutes the show had to go on.
When the last of them had finished, it was time to vote about which three girls to spare. The sluts were lined up in a row and the guards took Jean down the fuck machine--as she could no longer walk or stand they just dumped her beside the others on the floor.
Now we voted. The good thing was: None of my favorites got the free pardon. The bad thing was: My view suddenly became blurred!
"NO! NO! Not now of all fucking moments!" I cried, ripped the helmet off my head and tried to repair it--I smashed it down on the table some times, that is. That had helped many times before--and to my great relief it helped once again: When I put it on everything was fine again! Hey, I always had a way with techy things!
That was worth another Bud.
The three pardoned girls were led away; I've never learned what they do with them--I guess they are reselling them. Well, who gives a shit!
* * *
Time for the grand finale--time for the executions!
The first bitch to go was Michelle. While the other convicts were shacked at a wall, Michelle was placed in the middle of the stage, stark naked, her wrists and ankles manacled. Jesus, this chick looked so sweet! All this luscious, rosy flesh and the utter angst on her face!
The display at the rear wall now showed her name and the list of the seven forms of execution available: Electric chair, gallows, shooting, guillotine, pole, garrote, and pyre.
The poll started and I traced the development on the display before I placed my own vote. Apparently most of us were eager to see the new devices in action: It became a close race between pyre, pole, and gallows. Then, when most votes had been placed, the gallows dropped behind. Pole or pyre--I had preferred the guillotine for Michelle, but the pole seemed very nice for her, too. That was my vote--and it also was her judgment in the end.
I spanked my monkey enthusiastically in pleasant anticipation while the guards fetched the struggling girl and tugged her over to the pole. The audience was cheering and applauding.
The wooden pole was anchored in the ground, it was about six feet high and it had a sharp point. And it was certainly two or three times thicker than everything that had ever penetrated any of the holes of this cunt before!
I wondered how they would manage to get her into position since there was no ladder or steps beside the pole.
The host took out a remote control and directed it against the ceiling--with jangling noises a metal chain with a hook at its end came down just above the pole. Nice and simple solution! They fastened the hook at her handcuffs and with another push on the remote control the chain moved upward again--with Michelle dangling at its end. Now they removed the shackles from her ankles--good idea, I thought: One should never prevent a cunt from struggling freely with her legs! Hey, that's what they are made for, if you ask me! And that was what Michelle started doing instantly. To our great pleasure!
They hoisted her up till she was dangling near the ceiling and then, accompanied by dramatic music and the cheering, baying and mocking of the audience she was lowered towards the point of the pole--slowly, inch by inch. Wow--these bastards of Instant Justice really knew how to set up a thrilling show! When she was low enough, two of the guards grabbed her feet, spread her legs and directed her cunt to the end of the pole. She tried to avoid it with all her strength, but she had no chance at all. The wooden tip entered her pussy and then her own weight made her glide down the shaft inevitably. She screamed and screamed! I wanked and wanked.
When about one feet of the pole had vanished into her, the chain was lowered completely and they removed the hook and the handcuffs. Now she stuck on the pole totally unshackled. Her continuous struggling and writhing only accelerated the process of her sinking down and I began wondering where the pole would leave her body. Now she began coughing up blood! Few moments later the point of the pole became visible--it broke through the skin above her right tit that soon was soiled all over with blood. Her cries became weaker, yet they still sufficed to make her spitting around large quantities of blood with each of them.
Soon she had lowered far enough to get her feet on the floor of the stage, but she was too weak now to keep standing so she kept sinking down till she came to rest on her knees. She continued moving faintly for some minutes, a constant rill of red soup flowing out of her mouth. Then she fell limp.
Jeez--that little cunt had been a lot of fun! And I knew the pole would be one of my favorite choices in the future!
But I hadn't spurted off yet--I intended to save it all for Jean!
Next chick to be slaughtered was Lucy. While they left the corpse of poor Michelle sticking on the pole, a struggling and weeping Lucy was tugged to the center of the stage and the next poll started. I wanted to see her hanging, but this time I wasn't with the majority that opted for beheading.
Well, fine with me, too.
As soon as her sentence was passed the spotlights focused on the guillotine--it looked old and cruel: The frame of it was build of dark speckled wood, under the top of it the triangle of a vicious steal blade was gleaming. It had chopped through a lot of necks before ...and here came the next one! They needed four guards to force the wrists and neck of the violently struggling and crying girl onto the troughs of the lower part of the holding device. The moment they had managed her into the right position they folded down the upper part. The locking latched with a metallic sound--it sounded threatening and final. Well, at least for the slut that was caught in it--for the rest of us it sounded like the promise of a lot of fun!
The guards walked away to give us clear view of Lucy in the delightful position she was in now. Her pretty face was soaked in tears and her fists were clenched with tension. She plead and cried ...these dumb cunts always think they can change one's mind with some tears and pleas--no chance with me! Not at this place! All she could obtain with it was a little delay ...living few minutes longer, as long as we enjoyed her pleading show more than seeing her head fall.
This was one of the ingenious ideas of Instant Justice: Since beheading was quite a short pleasure they had added a little extra fun: The audience decided about the moment of dropping the blade. When you felt it was time for the chick to go you pushed a button--and the second when more than fifty percent of the audience had done that the blade dropped. You could track the progress at the display on the rear wall--it looked like a count down: You saw the number of members that yet were needed to complete fifty percent, and the number reduced rapidly. Yet this principle often had led to a war of nerves: It was a major kick to be the one whose pushing of the button was the decisive one to drop the blade--so it sometimes took about fifteen minutes when only two further pushes were necessary--and no one wanted to be the last but one!
Another thing you could see on the display was Lucy's backside. Oh I love it! If you ask me: A girl's ass never looks better than when she's kneeling behind a guillotine! And these sweet, dangling tits!
"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, let's grant Lucy a final consolation. She should not leave us without some fun!" the host announced.
Two huge guys entered the stage; both of them naked and both equipped with impressive cocks, ready for battle. One of them grabbed her head, forced a little device between her teeth that constrained her from biting, and then forced his cock deep down her throat. His colleague meanwhile had invaded Lucy's ass and was fucking her furiously. The girl's muffled cries became drowned out by a strong double-rhythm of thuds.
If I were one of the fucking guys I'd surely prefer the backside position--amongst other reasons because the countdown proceeded while they were fucking her. The guy who fucked her face had to pay close attention to the display--if he didn't want to risk loosing a little chunk of his dick when the blade came down! Well, maybe he gets a danger bonus...
The countdown quickly came to stop at the usual dead point: Only two further button clicks necessary. The nerve war started--I had my hand at the button, ready to push, just as half of the other guys. And then, within the fraction of a second, all pushed at the same time.
sssssSSSSSSSSUUKK
It dropped so fast you hardly could see it! The guy who was fucking her face jumped back hastily and, as it seemed, in time. Though he ripped Lucy's head with him--it stuck at his dick and dangled between his legs for a second, till it fell off and plopped on the floor with a dull noise. The fountain of blood spurting out of her severed neck formed a red sea on the floor ...and in the middle of it, like an island, the chick's head was lying...gross! I loved it!
I looked at the display again and saw that the other man was still fucking--well, he wasn't ready yet and after all nothing significant had changed from his point of view. And I bet her asshole was now even a bit tighter than it had been before! We all cheered him up, imagining being in his enviable position. Jesus ...fucking the asshole of a freshly beheaded slut ...I'd pay a months salary for that!
When he had successfully finished his efforts both men left the stage and we all gave them a big hand. The remains of Lucy were left where they were, just like Michelle's that still were sticking on the pole. The stage began looking like a slaughterhouse--well, it WAS a slaughterhouse!
And the next goner was Sally! The redhead bitch that I wanted to see burning on the pyre! As I soon found out most of my co-judges had the same idea: She was condemned to die in the fire. Oh, this would be the climax of the entire show, I thought, and I knew I could not wait for Jean--I would spurt off the moment Sally was wriggling in the fire!
When they grabbed Sally and dragged her towards the pyre, she yelled so shrill that my ears hurt! Such a reckless bitch! And then...
...and then...
* * *
...and then the scenery blurred again ...and turned to opaque blackness a moment later. And all I could hear was an atmospherical noise. Burning with rage I ripped the helmet off my head and smashed it against the table again. I didn't pay any attention to the can of Bud that I overturned with my rampage--or to the leaking beer forming a little sea on the table that turned to a little beerfall, foamingly flowing down to the carpet. This time my effort of repairing the helmet didn't work: When I put it on again I saw nothing but the same blackness. The only difference was that now I heard the voice of the operating system, sounding as cute and sexy as always:
"This is a common protection error, Sir. Do you want me to reboot the system?"
"Fucking YES, you dopey cunt! Reboot, reboot!" I yelled.
Oh, I would miss the best part of all the fucking show! The system booted ...I prayed ...and then I found myself in a kind of a blue cloud and a totally different, mechanically sounding voice said: "Operating System fatally damaged. Please download the diagnosis and repair kit. Operating System fatally damaged. Please download down the diagnosis and repair kit. Operating System fatally..." I shouted at it, but it didn't listen to me!
Aaaarrrgh! How the fuck could I download anything when I didn't get access to the fucking net??? The show was over for me, and I hadn't even spurted off one single time!
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!
Screaming with rage I jumped to my feet, grabbed the helmet with my right hand, turned around several times like a discus thrower and threw the fucking thing against the wall ...Well, that was what I actually had intended to do--but the Devil or all the Bud in my brain made me miss the wall. The helmet crashed against the window--and broke through the thin glass. Away was the helmet. And most of the windowpane.
Uh-oh.
I lived at the fifth floor ...and down there was a street with a lot of traffic. I froze and waited ...like a long time. Then I heard a little, slivering noise. Two seconds later the shrill noise of a car braking. And then a mighty crash. OH SHIT!
I went to the window, stuck my head through the remains of the pane and looked down. A car stood crosswise on the street, another car had crashed into its side. On the hood of the second car lay its driver. He didn't move.
Like a hypnotized rabbit, I continued to stare down while a group of spectators gathered round the cars. One of them pointed up to my window and then they all looked at me. I stared back at them. My head was entirely empty, all I knew was: I was in deep shit.
Not fifteen minutes later the cops knocked at my door.
They didn't even listen to my explanations when they arrested me.
* * *
I spent the night in a prison cell. Next morning a judge studied the case for five minutes and then declared me guilty.
Goodbye freedom, hello slavery!
Another four days in prison, then, yesterday, I was brought under the hammer at an auction. In the end I was sold for $1300--what an insult! I'm sure I'm worth much more than that. But all in all I've been lucky: Along with four other guys I was bought by the owner of a restaurant. After all that is much better than ending in a coal mine or being bought by an enterprise that promotes gladiator game. I'm not a citizen any longer, I'm a slave now, but maybe working in a restaurant is even better than the shitty job at the plant. What do I have to worry anyway? Working as a waiter or doing the dishes doesn't sound like the worst fate.
There are only two things I'm wondering about: I've noticed that the other men they have bought are a bit full figured, just like me. What does a restaurant need five stout men for?
And the other thing I'm wondering about is: When one of the guys had asked the owner of the restaurant what kind of restaurant she was running she had only smiled mischievously and said it was something completely new, a restaurant soley for female guests, and it would serve a completely new, unique kind of dishes.
Well, whatever that means: I'll find out soon--in about an hour they will come and fetch me.