They can’t take that away from me

The switch was thrown down. He felt the electricity slamming into every part of his body at once. The voltage coursed agonisingly through his flesh. His skin began to smoke. His bowels expelled everything they could. And yet all the suffering, all the cries of exultation from the bereaved, all the morbid intentions of those who were subjecting him to this final ordeal, could not quite rob from him the memory of the last five minutes he’d spent in his cell with the 1989 annual of ‘60+ And Busty’ magazine. Those creased faces, well-chosen camera angles and implausible norks would accompany him into Gehenna.


Her thong was sodden, though whether from clungeinal excitement or urine he wasn’t yet close enough to ascertain, and she was far from forthcoming on the matter, partly out of bashfulness, partly because nobody had asked her, and partly because her jaw and tongue had just been blown off.