Killer-Extras: Flash Fiction
Flash Fiction July 2008
John's Class
By Mike Martinez
John wiped the blood spatter from his goggles with an
oil-stained rag. The children giggled from the far side of the
table that the Thing lay on. They were here for their lesson. It
was his job to teach them how to explore the pain levels of
their play-things without dispatching them too soon or too
easily. John held up the Thing's recently severed finger, and
tossed it into the crowd of children. A rapid melee broke out,
and finally Fielder, a boy with so much promise, held up the
prize and began to gnaw on the cut end of it. The other children
sounded their disappointment over Fielder's good fortune.
"You see children; you must be quick when removing the extra
parts from your thing. You must do this with finesse and speed,
otherwise the flesh tears. It ruins the whole effect, and you
should always be proud to show off your work." John reached over
his head and pulled down the long mirror so his subject could
see the latest improvement on its body.
The Thing saw its own wide-eyed reflection. Eyes held open by
heat sealing tape; it had a look of permanent surprise. Tear
tracks cut through the dirt caked blood that had spattered all
over its face. It was naked, save for a few pads of gauze and
the straps holding it in place. A ball gag held in the louder
screams, keeping the precious sounds down to pig-like squeals
that delighted the children and gave John an almost constant
erection. It also prevented the thing from hyperventilating no
matter how much beautiful pain it would endure.
The sex had been removed upon its arrival. This was always the
first to go. You didn't want the children feeling as though
Things could be remotely human. It could give the children
nightmares if they thought of them as real. Tubes hung down into
the light pool surrounding the table. Some had fluids to keep it
alive and one was a diluted anti-depressant. "No reason for the
Thing to be feeling bad about its situation."
This particular Thing had lasted longer than most. It was a
testament to its own stamina and John's almost magical ability
to stave off death with a cauterizing blade and rubber
tourniquets. After four weeks of daily lessons, it was truly
transformed. After losing its sex that first night and feeling
the unbridled pleasure of having that spot burned into a small
opening for the evacuation tube, it became an object lesson in
proper care. "If we do it right children, the Thing will be
grateful for you kind attentions."
Its toes had been removed. Only three a day though. Weaker
Things could die from that alone if they were overworked. Then
the feet had to go. It would never walk again anyway. The
squeals were not unlike the birds in spring, almost cheerful in
their high pitched warbling. John always told the children,
"Things squeal to help their Makers enjoy their work. In the
end, they want their Makers to be happy."
They had learned about heavy work as well. The upper legs of the
Thing had been banded down. John had drawn a dotted line around
the patella to show how to remove it correctly. As he worked the
hacksaw, the children were called up to the table to press down
on the footless shins. Merit recoiled at being hit with blood
and John scolded her. "If you pull back, the Thing will know you
fear it and it may defy your work. Never pull back, if you feel
fear, plunge the blade in hard and fast and then listen for its
loving scream."
When John removed the flesh from its thighs, the children
learned how to cause the muscles to giggle like jam if they
touched certain spots with the electric probe. Each of them had
been eager to have a go. John was so proud of them that day.
"Let's see if we can make it squirt like a fountain kiddies!" It
was great fun until the Thing passed out and ruined it.
Then he taught them about taking off fingers and arms.
Cautioning them that there were as many ways to take fingers as
there were days in a month, they should saver each snip, chop
and severing. As he removed the second arm today he announced
that it was time to end this Thing and locate another.
"But teacher there's so much of it left!"
"I know, but this one's been here four weeks already. Now its
time to show you how to have the most fun possible."
Sad faces brightened and there was a new lightness in the air.
John drew in the lines for the children to follow. A smooth
straight line down the torso passed the removed nipples to the
navel, branching out at the top across the clavicles. He circled
each ear, and drew the face line slowly. Children at this stage
of learning were literal; they would follow the lines even if
they were crooked.
Their subject sensed this was the end and writhed like a worm on
a hook. Each of the ten children held a scalpel. John looked
down at the crying creature. "Don’t worry Thing. We'll leave
your eyes in so you can watch until the very end."
He sliced along the hair line, and began to peel the face
downward as he cut, rolling it back. "Now children, press in and
follow along the lines I drew for you. You'll have to practice
what you've learned."
Thing saw the flesh of its face passing over its eyes. It
wailed and wailed behind its gag. The children, blades held
ready, were finally close enough to see John's erection under
his apron and they giggled hard as they set upon their
assignments.
The End
Bio Bits:
Mike Martinez is a life long Chicago resident, and writes short fiction in many genres. Recently, Mike has become a staff member at Twilight Tales, Chicago’s longest running readers’ and writers’ series.
(note: Image provided by a free wallpaper site,
Flash-screen)
Previously on Flash Fiction:
April 2008 "Memoirs of a Dragon To Her Lover, Saint George: The Ways in Which I’d Kill You" by C.S.E. Cooney
May 2008 "Tia Goes Pop" by Karen LaRocca
June 2008 "What's With All The Damned Zombies Anyway?" by Tina Jens
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