With every rise of his hand the welts became larger and larger. I stood there watching from a slight distance as he broke a sweat wounding the flawless pale skin that had been exposed. He was skilled at this task. He would work on one area then begin on a fresh spot. Once in a while he would look over his shoulder at me and signal for me to bring him some water. It was laying there whimpering. He was even kind to it a few times, letting it get a sip of water. However I knew something it didn’t, his niceness was false. He wanted to lull it into thinking it was over, I knew it wasn’t over, and actually I honestly think that somewhere in that tiny brain, it knew it wasn’t over either.
Every thing was going so well. He was enjoying his treat that I found for him. It was taking care of him, but then it got tired and started to whine that it wanted to go back home. Major mistake. If it would of just keep it’s perfect mouth shut, we wouldn’t be out here in this damn hot sun in the middle of no where.
He reached down to pull the jean shorts all the way off. It spit up at him. He kicked it square in the face and it went limp. He yelled, “SHIT!” I just shook my head. Within a few minutes it started to stir so he went back to the punishment he was doling out.
I can just see the looks on the faces of the people that find it, because I know that it won’t make it out of here. It will be bloated from the sun, the rigor mortise will have set in, parts of it missing from the animals snacking on it. This wouldn’t be the first time someone stumbled across his handy work and it certainly would not be the last.
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