Screw You
10 Mar 2019Today’s prompt: “Screw you.”
Look, I get it, you’re angry. You have a right to be angry. It’s part of the whole Kübler-Ross thing. But I’m just the narrator here. I didn’t cause your excrutiating death. I just describe it, that’s all.
Wow. You did not have to use that word.
Look, I get that you’re in a lot of pain, but you do not need to take it out on me. I’m not the one who’s actually torturing you. You don’t have be rude about–
Okay, you know what? Screw you. I’m going to narrate you one hell of a death.
Your captors have the imagination of medieval torturers, but the resources of the modern day. So they start by applying liquid nitrogen to your genitals. They brand your chest with a hot iron in the shape of a pentagram. They strap shincrushers – these curved metal plates with spikes along the insides – to your calves and tighten them until your tibia break. They stretch you on the rack, and they crush you on the Scavenger’s Daughter. They pull out your fingernails and toenails with red-hot pliers. They force you to drink massive amounts of greywater. They revive an old technique the British military used on Irish rebels, called pitchcapping – they cut your hair short, pour hot pitch into a paper cone, press it onto your head, let it cool, and then yank it off, taking bits of scalp with it. There’s usually a while between each of these tortures while they ready the materials for the next one. In that time, they keep you in stress positions. You finally die when they force rats into your body and the rats gnaw their way through your intestines trying to get out.
Jeez, I wonder what you did to piss them off so much. Eh. Who cares. Screw you.