I fled from the house, out into the predawn blackness, completely naked save for a blown-out pair of tennis shoes. The screen door slammed loudly against the porch, as I ran full-tilt across his front lawn and up the near-silent tree-lined suburb.
The sound of barking now came from somewhere behind me, low and guttural. He‘ll have that rifle on me in seconds, I thought.
Spanish moss hung from everything in colossal stalactites, shrouding the whole street in a maniacs darkness, but I knew he could dead-eye me down regardless. He was a pro.
Hiding was not an option. My only chance was to put as many miles as possible between me and Snake. I hoped that his trademark laziness would kick in and render him inert.
It had been four days of violent, violent rape. Days spent caged to a $5,000 couch in the heart of Floridian jungle-land. I could still hear him laughing like a crazy shit in my head; the same laugh he used while he went to work on my orifices, violating each of them into a loose and slick-wet gore.
A raping binge would see Snakes neck stretch to at least 13 inches in length, and his eyes turning almost instantaneously into black, veinless marble. Fangs would descend down and out over his bottom lip, allowing small streams of saliva to trickle slowly into his littered beard, and his extremities would elongate to impossibly macabre proportions.
This horrific transformation puts him among some of the most terrifying creatures to ever haunt the human psyche; a careening lunatic of debauchery and filthy notions.
I sprinted out onto an empty t-junction, my balls and red-raw dick slapping off both legs furiously. My lungs burned and a royal stitch arced around my sides, throbbing to some unknown rhythm.
I looked back. Silence. Stillness. Nothing. Then a muzzle flash from the shadows, and the top of my left ear exploded in a glorious spray. I spun to the ground, all audio gone now save for the ringing of a thousand dying frequencies.
He had nailed me, and right where it would smart the worst. I crawled along the tarmac, still warm from yesterdays chaos. Tiny jets of claret whizzed out from the blast-site, onto the ground, into my eyes and mouth.
This is it, I thought. One final round to the skull, then a fine and well-earned sleep.
You move pretty fast for an Irishman, Snake boomed, and there he was all of a sudden, in full view, 20 feet away. But are you sure you’re a man?
My lips parted but no words came out, my ability to speak now gone.
I looked into the black deadness of Snakes aviators, and I saw the thousands of lives he must have lived. The thrones he had sat on, the wars he had waged. His is a campaign of carnage that stretches beyond all human time and plays out on the grand cosmic stage.
To witness it in its entirety is to go mad.
He saw this, and a grin now rolled onto his face.
The rifle raised up, but instead of loading for the next shot, he slung it over his shoulder and shook his head.
Not today, good buddy.
He turned slowly, and walked back into the darkness, throwing up a ‘peace’ sign as he vanished.
And then I was alone. The long journey home had begun…