This week's prompt was, "You find a package at your door with nothing but your name on it."
MATURE CONTENT WARNING
Please be aware, the following content is for audiences 18 and older.
The Day My Heart Came Back
Word count: approx. 525
I heard the box land on the front porch with a thud. I opened the door and could tell it wasn't an official package from any shipping service. It looked like it was wrapped by a one-armed drunk. And there was no address, just my name - Johnny. Well, not my real name but the one I used most often.
I tore it open and inside it was my still-beating heart. I half expected to see a note saying: From the city of San Francisco. Instead I saw Liz out of the corner of my eye aiming a sawed-off shotgun at me with her left hand. Her right arm was mangled beyond recognition.
"That explains the wrapping job," I said. She then shot my face up with the shot-gun. "Bitch," I said.
I pulled my heart out of the box and began to eat it.
"Better eat it fast, the cops are hot on my trail," she said. "State police should figure out which way I'm headed pretty fast and the locals will be here shortly thereafter."
"I'm underwhelmed with the response," I said as I saw one town cruiser pull up.
"I guess I overestimated how soon they'd pick up my scent," she said.
By this time my wife had woken up from her drunken stupor and come down to see what the commotion was all about. The cop was pointing his gun at us and yelling something.
"I got to disentangle myself before we go, Lizzie," I said. I then grabbed my wife by the neck and twisted her head with a satisfying crack. The cop shot me a few times. I guess he underestimated how quickly Liz could move because she clocked him good with the butt of her shotgun.
I secured his half-conscious body in the back of his cruiser and Liz began licking the blood and gore left on my face from her shotgun blast. "You sure know how to get a guy's motor running," I said, watching her spit out little bits of buckshot she had torn from my mangled flesh. "But we got to run. Our Patrons probably would frown on a big shoot out with the cops."
She nodded and we got in the car. She rode shotgun, of course. As we drove, the cop in the back started sobbing. "Please don't kill me, I've got kids," he choked out.
"Oh, shit," I said, "we can't kill him 'cuz he's got kids."
"Well," said Lizzie, adopting a very rational tone, "we'll just have to kill his kids first."
The stupid cop went back to sobbing. I knew Liz could get the locations of his children from him. She can be very persuasive. I couldn't wait to watch his face as we killed the little tykes in front of him, pain all the worse for knowing he'll have let them down by helping us find them.
"I love you, Lizzie," I said.
"Don't be a sentimental fuck," she replied with a huge smile, rubbing my hard cock through my bloody jeans with her good hand.
Criticism, kudos and hate mail always appreciated. Leave comments below or
feel free to email me at email@example.com.
Also visit Eric's blog.
Also visit Eric's blog.