Alien Space Tentacle Porn by Peter Cawdron

Author:Peter Cawdron [Cawdron, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-07-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 04: DARPA

—RIP OFF YOUR GODDAMN HEAD.

—YOU FUCKING HEARD ME, THAT’S WHAT I SAID.

What the hell?

I open my eyes but there’s nothing beyond the darkness.

—HATE IS LOVE.

—HURT IS PEACE.

—WHAT YOU THINK IS RIGHT STINKS

—AND YOU’RE DEAD

My arms are strapped to a wooden chair, locked in place from my elbows down to my wrists. A pair of headphones have been clamped over my head along with some kind of blindfold.

Heavy metal music blares in my ears. The guitar is thrashing a single chord, madly tearing at the strings and sending out a wall of noise. Drums boom around me, exploding like the crash of thunder. I swear, a bunch of chimpanzees are beating on a snare drum, a top hat, and a bunch of tom-toms in some bizarre syncopation that jars the mind. I can hear the chimps screeching and squealing, wailing in the background. All I can think is they’re determined to puncture the drum skins, not to mention my ears.

—LOOK AT ME WRONG AND I’LL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH

—I’LL SERVE UP YOUR HEART ON A RUSTING METAL DISH

Words scream in my ears.

The noise is so loud, it hurts.

I can’t think.

Through the haze of pain, I somehow grasp that this is the point. I’m being tortured. It would have been nice if they’d introduced themselves first, but no, all I get is:

—CRUEL TO BE KIND.

—KIND TO BE CRUEL.

—THIS IS MY WORLD.

—I SET THE RULES.

I don’t know how much of this I can take.

My head is pounding.

The rules.

Don’t play by the rules.

As difficult as it is to think straight with this infernal noise pounding in my ears, I have to try something. Anything. I’ve got to stop this tsunami of sound, but how?

I start tapping my feet and nodding my head in a vague sense of time with the music, if it can be called that.

“Do you take requests?” I ask, knowing there must be at least one other person in the room with me, perhaps a guard or an interrogator.

“Have you got any Def Leppard?” I’m trying to recall as many heavy metal bands as I can. I wonder if I’m yelling. It doesn’t feel like I am, but it’s natural to try to be heard above the noise, even though the maddening racket is confined to my headphones. “D-E-F not D-E-A-F. Be sure to spell it right.”

There’s no response.

I make more of a show, humming as I tap out an imaginary beat on an invisible bass drum with my right foot. Although my arms are strapped to the chair, my hands are free, so I make as though I’m holding drum sticks, beating at the air. I’m sure to swing quicker with my right hand than my left, giving my wrists a good flick to complete the picture, and make as though I’m tapping a snare drum and alternating with a cymbal. I’m loving this, at least, that’s what I want to portray.

“What about Black Sabbath?” I ask. “Iron Maiden? Megadeth?”

I’ve got a good wobble going on with my head.

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