I finally trapped the monster who stole my car and it’s gonna be a Good Friday he won’t live to forget. I’ve starved him in my dungeon for only a week now with nothing but vinegar to drink. I’ve made him jerk off 25 times for my amusement. Teach that fucker to leave condom wrappers in my car. He’s crazy with fear and hunger, willing to say anything I tell him to live. I fuck with him, making him renounce his God, though he isn’t even Christian.
I put a rope around his wrists and drag him outside, 200 acres away from civilization. I walk him in circles, kicking him. Knocking him down over and over. Hey, what better way to celebrate Easter than a good old fashioned re-enactment of the Play. I kick him in the teeth and he is drooling blood. Unlike Christ, his crown is one of barb wire, with sharpened steel spikes that spear the flesh, digging in clear to the brain. I’ve driven tacks into his sandals so that each step draws blood, calling the fire ants. I grab my riding crop and cut lashes into his back. I hate fucking thieves. I’m feeling demented and creative. I see an old landscape timber rotting in the grass. I make him pick it up and carry it over his head. I feel giddy with religious energy. The effort makes him cry and beg. The fire ants are climbing his bloody rags now, biting him, taking to their special hell.
You didn’t really think I was gonna nail him to a cross, did ya? That’s so cliche. I’m just gonna nail some spikes into a 2×4 and knock him across the head with it. Leave the asshole lying there in the dust. Let the fireants and the varmints to do the rest. Aint no justice like MY justice.
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