“Killing myself before I’m born.” ~ Ben John Smith

by Horror Sleaze Trash on September 16, 2014

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“Understanding; Killing myself before I’m born.” ~ Ben John Smith

 

He has not been here before and neither had himself.

He stands directly beside himself and strains his eyes in the soft neon glow of the museums light. Behind a sheet of glass, smudged with little children’s finger prints, in a white wooden box secured to the white wall in front of him is a collection of insects pinned to a cork board. small little labels with (difficult to say) scientific. names like;

Phasmatoptera, Exopterygota and Neoptera.

Himself doesn’t need to point but he knows he is looking directly at the Phasmatoptera, better known as a Stick Insect. You know these things about yourself. Without speaking or pointing, himself says the name, pronouncing it perfectly, even accented in a slight Latin enunciation. Without opening his mouth or lifting his tongue he says

“The stick insect was destined to imitate the twig of a branch before it had ever even seen one, before it knew what stick was, before it even knew what the concept of being a stick was… Molding its body as an embryo to mimic wood, the entire symbiotic and evolutionary process destined to become the exact organic replica of a single strand of wood. A survival mechanism. An instinct before his brain had the ability to consciously act instinctively.”

“Becoming a stick Before it even knew the concept of a stick…”

He repeated.

Himself turned to face him, still not speaking, narrowing his eyes on his teeth; just a couple of snapped rotten brown and gold semi ivory stumps in his small broken and round lipped mouth.

‘and millions still believe in the concept of a participating god. All these dead insects a very clear proof there is no creator but our self’s, yet here we are. Standing next to each other, the same person – just separated by our years in the tubes. A new version of me – you, and an older, forgive me for saying, disheveled version of myself.”

His self said quietly, inaudibly, like electricity. A current in His brain.

Himself (Nico of the future) was Dressed in a woolen knit jumper over a red shirt, the material at his neck pressed sharply, nearly popping from his collar and spread open on his breast, his perfect teeth white and bright reflecting the sterile room with a quarter crescent moon on the bulge of each molar, incisor and cuspid.

In that small moment of mutual adorned silence, a small pistol, the single shot of a Steyr Mannlicher M1901 slipped from him self’s (Past Nicolas) pocket and in a single arched motion pressed gently against Nico’s head and in a boiling hot pop, a sliver of metal pushed the entire contents of Nicos head; The face bones, eye ball liquid and brain matter across the fresh white walls of the museum. A two second red and white splash and 2 more seconds of silence before he opened his freshly formed eyes by the side of a turquoise and light blue pool in Istanbul. He was in Istanbul for sure. He had been here before. The old yellow stone stacked walls are convexed around him.

He looked at the watch on his wrist that wouldn’t be invented for at least 200 years and watched the zodiac hand click from a odd to even number and subconsciously sighed. Wouldn’t be long this time, a few minutes, half of a clock watch if he was lucky. Knowing the environment meant that this moment in time had already happened. It wouldn’t take Nicolas long to find him. At his feet, gingerly but sure footed, traipsing across the mosaic tiles of the sauna room a Persian cat rubbed its ear across the peak of his fresh white, red trimmed 2014 Reebok Cross fit sneakers. He looked again at his watch, in a few moments Nicolas would be walking through the arch to the right of the Blue Mosque in his shabby brown coat with his hands in his pockets.

The kitten mewing at his feet was irritating him, terribly. It was someone’s cat – it had a piece of string with an Arabic symbol carved into a small piece of steel tied to its neck. Nico picked up the cat gentle and wrapped his beautiful soft white hands around the cats neck and tightly squeezed the throat for a few thrashing moments until the cat hung limp in his hands, like a wet sock alone on a clothes line he remembered once, many years to pass yet, thinking now, in the past about a future that hasnt yet happened; when he was a small child.

As the zodiac clicked over to the exact time that Nico had anticipated, in walked himself. Dressed exactly as he knew he would have. Putting the kitten gently onto the floor, taking a long drag of and stubbing out a cigarette in an ash tray beside him, he did not remember lighting, he stood up, brushed white cat hair from his shoulders and stood, slightly turning so his back heel was just hanging over the lip of the swimming pool.

“It would be a lie to say this is an unexpected surprise, wouldn’t it friend.”

He said, staring straight forward, hands behind his head.

“Don’t shoot, I’m unarmed and i come in peace.”

He said laughing loudly and raising his hands palm open to the sky.

“I love Istanbul in the morning, I wish we could stay longer. Well, you at least, it fazes me not where ever i am and for ever long. You, my Carmen Sandieago, I know you are a man of France at heart. Don’t be silly, you know this wont hurt.”

A small boom, like the strike of a match head, or a flint stone rubbed together and there it was again, the split second infinite red hum. Like a car crash sped up 10000x, then nothing, then nothing. not even a thing.

***

Nicolas woke up again somewhere in the future, sometime after 90k. He knows this because he remembers the TV ad for womb on T.S.E.V.N that’s broadcasting on the airport terminal television screen. The television brightly spews out the pop out hologram of a white woman in a lab coat and her blonde hair tied in a bun above her head. Smiling. Smiling, really, really big. As she opens her arms in a welcome hug, a collection of other white, blonde clinically dressed woman huddle behind her. Same stupid arms out, same stupid smile.

He would have to find Nicos sometime soon but he knew where he was and was happy to rest in his chair shortly, watching the television screen as the modern age hustled around him. He sighed

Perfectly queued the television says;

“Welcome to The Womb ™”.

The idea of WOMB, was simple.

Starting in Japan, basically the company offered any one over the age of 50 the opportunity to crawl back into your mothers vagina and be reborn.

Not even digitally, the whole concept was physical, small clinically white rooms, thousands of them, in an conglomerate set of ware houses that would eventually take up 1/5th of the entire country.

On the television the smallish slit of the pink womb, more like a ribbed salvial cocoon was yawning and slowly vomiting the fully grown larval human embryo, soaked in shimmery translucent goo, his adult eyes full with the bewildering wonderment of a freshly developed child. The new born already born licking the slimy gel from his hands and rubbing a hooked hand over his face like a grooming cat. thin sinewy ropes of rubber like mouth spit bridging from any convex angle the twisted fragile unit of humanity squirmed into. The throbbing mound of polyester meat pulsing out the grown man like the split side of a whale and its blubber. A hand full of WOMB nurses smiling like proud mothers, TSEVN filming for a real “take home and re live” DVD experience. Re live you re birth. Re live the reliving of your re birth. Live anything but your life.

We come out and after a, million, million years of the same thing, it just is.  All we want to do is reverse the process. Crawl back into the warm, wet, safe crevice of our creator and sleep forever in the unconscious abyss of pre birth. But we can’t, well, not yet anyway.

The slight running text at the bottom of the television rolled across with news stories. The time stamp in the corner read 2:4-25. At 91:13 he would see Nico stumble over a couple leaning in to hold hands. This time he would not greet him, he will not even let his presence be known. He will watch him pass, enter the departure lounge to France and use a payphone nearby to call Womb.   The time now was not for death, but for rebirth. Everything else could wait, he had all the time in the world to kill himself another day.

 

Andrew Hilbert

by Horror Sleaze Trash on September 16, 2014

Toilet Stories From Outerspace

Andrew Hilbert is a writer living in Austin, TX. He is the founder of Weekly Weird Monthly (weeklyweirdmonthly.com) and author of the chapbook Toilet Stories From Outer Space which is available on his website (www.hilbertheckler.com) and on Amazon as an ebook.

THE OWNER’S ROOM

by Andrew Hilbert

 

We were drunk. It was stupid but we were drunk. It’s not an excuse. It’s just what it is.

We were celebrating Sofia’s acceptance into grad school. We were anticipating having no free time between us once she started so we decided to do the whole Airbnb thing and rent a vacation home in Arroyo Seco, the mountains in New Mexico. On our way up, we stopped by a small bar. Thanks to the liquor laws of New Mexico we could do all our bulk shopping as we sat on barstools and drank cocktail after cocktail.

A bottle of Jack. Two twelve packs of Bud. Fuck it. Make that two bottles of Jack.

The house was beautiful. Heated floors, a gorgeous view of purple mountains, and a fireplace. We dropped our things at the front door. The owner had wood all set up for us with a note.

Welcome to beautiful Arroyo Seco and congratulations to Sofia on grad school! Mi casa es su casa. The hot tub should be heated! Remember to rate us on the Airbnb website! –Gordon

“Gordon,” Sofia said, “that’s a name you don’t hear too often.”

I nodded.

“Let’s get naked,” I said. “The hot tub’s ready.”

We got down to our birthday suits. I uncapped the Jack and took a big chug and passed it to Sofia. She did the same. I took one of the twelve packs with me as we went outside.

“This place is fucking beautiful,” Sofia said.

“Uh huh,” I said and took another swig.

Fifteen minutes later we were both drunk. We can drink.

An hour was all we could take in the hot tub. The water was heated to 101 degrees. My nutsack couldn’t take much more despite all the alcohol numbness that overcame me.

And I had whiskey dick.

So much for being naked.

It was something like 20 degrees outside. The snow was packed in. As soon as I got out of the tub, my nipples shot forward, hard as rocks, and I shriveled to the size of a fleshy coin purse.

“Hu-huh-holeeeeeeeeeeeeey fuck it’s cold!”

“Um hum, yeeah! It is!” Sofia giggled. Our words elongated with our disappeared sobriety.

We slop-hopped to the back door and back into the house, naked and giggling. The good thing about vacationing in the mountains is that there aren’t neighbors to disturb. We could be as drunk and naked as we pleased and there’d be nobody to judge.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Sofia said. “I j-just had the, ummm, fuck. I forgot.”

“Remember it when you tell me,” I said. My eyes were crossing as I tried to roll them back into my mind to figure out exactly how drunk I was.

“Oh!” she said. Her feet were clumsy and her ankles wobbled as she shivered into some kind of clarity. “I got it! I had the, ummm, ca-raziest think – thought. I think, what if, wouldn’t it be fucking crazy if the Gordon, if that’s his REAL name, was like whacking off right now watching us on a webcam or something?”

“Pssssht…” my mouth was numb. “Fuck you. He’s propubly, probubbly, probably looking at my fucking dick thinking, Woah. That’m big’m.

We both busted out laughing because we looked down at my dick at the same time. It was still recovering from the cold. Nobody’d think that’m big’m.

Sofia wandered away from me and I stumbled around looking for the other bottle of Jack. It was, of course, where we left it. Right next to the front door which we forgot to even close. I stuck my leg out in a stupid attempt at heightening drama to kick it closed but ended up nearly doing the splits and cutting myself in half upwards.

“F-fffuck.”

I got up and uncapped the Jack and took a nice, big ol’ swig.

“What? What? What? Larry!” Sofia sounded confused – not confused like she had no capability of understanding what she was confused about but confused like she was on the verge of understanding but never quite there. “What? What? What? Wow. Woah. Larry!”

“I’m c-coming, I’m c-comin’,” I said. I kept the burps down. It was a bad habit. It just meant I’d be hauling ass to the toilet in the middle of the night to throw up. Burps relieve pressure. When you feel a burp, fucking burp.

“Larry, Luh-luh-lurry!” Sofia’s eyes were half closed with bags under them. Her left eye looked upward and her right eye further rightward. She was hammered. “Wha-wha-what’s erse ser?”

“Wh-whut?” I asked.

“Whaz erd sare?” She pointed to the placard on the door. It took me awhile to quit seeing double but I was able to make it out.

“Oh no room,” I said, “Ohnor’s room, do not enter.”

“Owner’s rum,” she repeated nodding. “Fuck him. We pained f-f-for therse, we go whern we wantgoer. I, I, I thought we lived in a freedom country.”

I raised my hand for a high five.

“Fuck yeah,” I said, “Fuck him. This is America.” I spit felt gas rising up my esophagus and barreling for my mouth but I caught it before it became solid and spewed all over Sofia. “I almost threw up,” I said, and then I did. Chunks of vomit sprayed the owner’s room door. I could see that a little river of bile started to flow underneath the door and into the room.

“He-heeere’s our chance,” I said. “We’s gotsa clean it up now, righ? We’s gotta go up in!” I pointed, eyes nearly shut, at the puke spilling into the forbidden side of the door. Sofia nodded her approval. I nodded back and then winked because I noticed we were both still naked. “Fuck yeah,” I said and pointed at her landing strip.

Sofia grabbed for the door knob but it was locked of course.

“Ki-kick it down, you fu-fuckin’ pussy,” she said and pointed to my dick.

“It’s c-c-cold, shu-shut up.”

I kicked and kicked but never really got the kind of drunk strength I expected myself to.

“We need to j-j-ump inna it,” I said. I made the motion with my shoulder into the door. “Three counts,” I said.

One, two, three…

The door came off its hinges and we landed inside.

“I think my butt’s got sp-splinters,” Sofia said. She had a good laugh. I was still overly concerned about my lack of length.

The laughs wore off – they always do – and we were still splayed on the ground atop a broken door staring at the ceiling. We were only staring at a very specific part of the ceiling – the small five inch radius our eyes could focus on. It wasn’t until I stood up until I saw anything else.

“Sh-sh-sh-shit!” Sofia said. She was still on the ground. I was up with my hands on my waist like I was getting ready to work or something.

“What?”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she pointed. Her teeth were chattering and her chin quivering. She looked scared.

I followed her finger to where she was pointing until she burst out laughing.

“God damn it,” I said.

“No no no no no no! Keep looking! No! Keep looking! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s just –” She burst out laughing again.

I looked where she was pointing though.

There was a very fat, pinkish man lying face down into a hammock made of chicken wire strung up from the ceiling. He was completely naked with little dribbles of blood coming out where the wire met his skin. Hanging in front of his face was a water dispenser and a kibble dispenser – the kind you see in hamster cages.

“Shit fuck dude! We gotta g-guh-get you downer there!”

“No, no, no-no-no!” he said. “He’s watching…” his eyes darted all over the room as if whoever was watching was everywhere. “He’s watching me.”

He swung himself toward the kibble dispenser. His tongue came out just enough for the kibble to land on it. When he swung away a huge metal paddle came down from the ceiling and spanked him in the ass.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. “That fucking paddle has nails on it!”

Sure enough I could see the blood dripping off about twenty nails on the paddle that hung from the ceiling.

“Every time, every time, every time I get a drip of water or a kibble meat, every time I swing that paddle comes and punishes me,” he could hardly say it without welling up with tears. “I don’t even know how to enjoy it anymore.”

“Wha-what?” Sofia asked. “The kibble or the spanking?”

He didn’t answer. He swung for water and got spanked for it.

“The bastard. The bastard! The bastard makes the kibble extra salty so I can’t help but get water. Two spanks! Two spanks, guaranteed! What kind of monster!”

Sofia and I looked at each other. We knew we weren’t dreaming or hallucinating but we couldn’t help but think something about our drunkenness was making this more bizarre than it really was.

That moment of drunken wonderment between us was cut short the sound of tinkling.

I looked up. The fat guy was pissing and moaning.

“Woah, oah, woah,” he kept going on and on. “That bastard! The fucking son of a bitch! He’s watching! And he’s loving every minute of it! He puts something in the kibble and water to make it burn when I pee. He loves this! He loves to torture me!”

“Luh-luh-lissen, dude.” Sofia got to her feet. Her knees buckled and her eyes fluttered as she stumbled forward, too close to the stream the poor guy was producing. “Listen, you know? Like, right?”

Sofia slipped on the piss puddle and fell to the floor.

“Ow, man,” she moaned. “That’s f-fucked up!”

“We go gotta go gotta get you out of here man!” I said.

“No! No!” he wriggled in the net. Each movement was accented by a rusty creaking of the chicken wire net. “He’ll find me. He’ll find me. He’ll find me and then he’ll kill me. And then he’ll kill everyone I’ve ever loved.”

But it was too late for reasoning. I hopped on one leg and flailed my arms trying to grab onto anything I could hold onto to tug his ass down. I was too drunk.

I lost interest when I noticed Sofia was snoring. I was jealous. I hated when she went to sleep without me.

“You,” I said pointing to the man, “You. What’s your name?”

“Ugh, what’s the point?”

“Fine, dude. Whatever,” I said as I sat down on the floor. “I’m j-just going to close my eyes for a second.”

And that was that. I fell asleep immediately.

My head felt like someone was continually swinging a mallet inside of it. My eyes wouldn’t focus. Sofia looked like she was in worse shape than I felt. She was scowling at the floor and dry heaving. Like Adam and Eve after eating the forbidden fruit, we were suddenly aware of our nakedness and ashamed in front of the naked stranger dangling above us.

“Hey, guys,” the naked stranger said, “Maybe he isn’t watching. Maybe he won’t kill me. Maybe you could help me down.” He swung himself to the kibble dispenser and sucked out a piece. His ass was greeted with the paddle. “Ow!”

Sofia looked to me.

“I’m scared,” she said. “The door is off its hinges. Once Gordon discovers that, we’ll never get our deposit back.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Unless he knows we know something we shouldn’t know.” I pointed at the stranger and winked at Sofia. She smiled giving me a look like I was the smartest guy in the world and she was the one going to grad school.

 

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