Chapter 6: Jail House Blues

 

As I plant my size thirteen steel-toe boot into the fat little perverts balls, adrenaline pumps through my veins causing the world around me to slow to a snail's pace.

I watch in slow motion as my boot lifts the little man an entire foot off the ground. His formerly-smug face was now puckered like a goldfish, eyes bulging out of his skull.

The guards jerk me backwards roughly, but it is too late: the damage has been done.

The little man lands on his hands and knees, face completely red.

The guard to my right that dropped his club lets go of my arm. I try to pull away from the huge man on my left, but he has a firm hold of my arm in a vice-like grip. We wrestle for a moment, but the pasty beast has a couple hundred pounds on me - he gets me in a hold with his arms wrapped around my elbows behind my back.

The other guard moves in front of me and cracks his leather-wrapped knuckles with a smirk " ********* - *** - ****** - ****. " He say's something, but my heart is pounding in my ears and I can't hear anything beyond my own rush of blood.

He drops the smirk from his ugly, hairless face. With a roar that I can just barely hear, I watch as a gigantic, ham-sized, white fist is thrust towards my face.

It comes at me like a freight train, slower than a glacier. It smashes directly into my forehead, right between my eyes.

The first thing I feel is my nose being crushed into my face, followed by my head snapping backwards. My neck makes an alarming crack.

The world spins and black spots dance around my vision.

The evil michelin tire-man plants his next punch directly in my solar-plexus, and all the air rushes out of me as I double over with a gasp.

'Fuck, I can't breathe!'

He gives another evil grin, and pauses for a moment.

He then brings his heavy leather boot up right in between my legs.

A wave of extreme nausea hits me, and my body loses all strength. "Urp-Bleghh!" I puke up bile all over the floor.

The huge man dodges back from the filth. 'He's pretty nimble for a sumo' Is the random thought that floats across my concussed brain.

The white man then grabs his big club with a grunt. He looks like he's about to crush my skull with it.

Panic hits me.

He hefts it once, then-

" EIEN! Set eia amagi qua cabadros! " The fat little man says tersely while getting up.

Still red in the face, he doesn't look at me as he makes a hand gesture to the left. " Mej los oof y lekk teniti... " he groans while holding his groin.

* Sigh * A breath I didn't know I was holding escapes my mouth, and my body goes limp - the tension leaking out all at once.

The vicious guard stands to the side and examines his club like nothing happened. The fat little pervert limps over to me, He's starting to get blurry... Fuck, I think my black-eyes are starting to swell up.

He takes my jaw in his pudgy hand, and fixes me with a nasty glare. His black eyes glitter with hate and he flashes his clenched golden teeth in a rictus grin.

"Tu - teni - poying - il - qua - jook'd - Figg'd-si. Tu - teni - poying - il - morr'tu - y - fermen - Morr." He enunciates each word through clenched teeth an inch away, spittle hitting my face.

With a sneer, he lets go of my jaw and waves off-handedly at his thugs.

The big men drag me to the iron jail-cells on the left, the world blurs with the motions. Fuck, I'm so dizzy... That punch might have knocked out Mike Tyson.

The guard that didn't hit me jingled keys at his belt and fiddles with the heavy lock on the last cell. The prisoners inside - there were four of them - all huddled to the back warily. They looked at the bear-like guards with anxiousness & fear. They were all naked except for underwear.

The guards then pushed me towards the stone-brick wall roughly. I nearly trip and just barely manage to catch myself before bashing my face into the wall. It takes a moment to orient myself...

The other guard crosses his arms over his barrel chest and barks an order "Irips"

What?

What do they want now?

He barks again "Irips!" His voice was strangely soft and high-pitched for such a big man. Weird...

"I can't understand you you ugly giant. I dont speak russian or whatever" I slur with my arms up.

His hairless eyebrows draw down in a scowl, and his face started to turn pink with anger. He smacks his big ham fist into his palm.

His hairless body, combined with that high voice & pasty complexion made him look like a giant fucking baby. I would laugh, but that baby's punch nearly broke my damn neck.

He starts to step forward, but the other guard turns and stops him with a touch to the arm and a shake of his equally bald head.

The 'nice' guard doesn't threaten me, instead he makes a stripping gesture with his leather armor, then points his finger at me " Tu, Irips"

Ah, they are going to strip me and throw me in this cell like the other four prisoners.

Staring at them warily, I remove my bloody orange work T-shirt and toss it on the floor. Fuck... my stomach aches where he punched me, it hurts to even breathe.

Next, he taps his boot with his club and pulls on his pant leg "Irips" he orders one last time in a soft voice similar to the 'mean' guard.

Painfully, I bend down and untie my boots and throw them off, then I undo my belt and kick my pants off. I would resist, but I'm pretty sure these guys would just beat the shit out of me and strip me down anyway.

They then throw me naked in my briefs and white socks into the cell.

As the Iron bars slam shut, I look around at the prison cell. It fuckin stank in here, like shit, piss and body odor. The wooden floor was covered in straw, and there were no beds, only one stone slab too small for a large man to sleep on. There was no toilet, only a big wooden bucket... that was probably where most of the foul smell was coming from.

I then look at the four other people in my small eight by ten cell.

They were all huddled to the back of the cell, eyeing me warily, except for one man who was sitting on a small stone slab with hay on it. He was tall and well proportioned, with long blonde hair and a small scruffy beard. He just eyed me with an unreadable stare. They were all mostly naked, except for a their weird underwear. It looked like some kind of loincloth - or a turban that was wrapped around the waist.

The other three men stared at me with fear and apprehension. One looked like a normal person, albeit too skinny - with tan skin and dark hair. The other two were pasty white just like those fuckin' prison guards. But these ones were different.

For starters, they were not almost seven feet tall. They also had hair, but it was completely white - they did not look old, did they dye their hair? Are they albinos? They also weren't fat & burly like the guards, but slender and stringy - like they haven't been fed properly for a few months. Lastly, they had pointed ears like the 'Hobbits' from 'Lord of the Rings'. Why were they wearing those? Did the guards make them wear those? I'm so fuckin confused...

Maybe one of them spoke english?

"Hey, do any of you guys speak english?" I ask aloud to the group.

The three cowering men visibly startle, shock on their faces. They somehow look even more terrified. Just what has been done to these poor men...

The guy sitting on the bench looks inquisitive, with his hand on his chin.

I turn to him "Do you speak english?" I ask, hopeful.

"Eien" He says while waving his hand nonchalantly

"Tu oundes rooha" he speaks with a chuckle.

"Fuck" None of them speak english. I wanted some damn answers!

I sink down the wall onto the hay-covered wooden floor and hold my head in my hands.

My mind whirls with questions and possibilities.

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Where am I? What happened in that purple light? Was Chantelle alright? How did I wind up in that weird room with the satanic circle? Just what were those 'doctors'... Kidnappers? It looks like they sold me to that nasty gold-teeth creep. What are they doing with all these people in these cells? Are they psychos? Is that fat little creep going to torture all these people? Are they going to torture me? If not then what?

What.

How.

Why.

Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?

.

..

...

....."Why is this happening?"

 

***

 

An unknown length of time passes, and I'm startled from my continuous circle of thoughts by the blonde man standing up and yawning. He stretched his slightly muscular arms up and groaned as he stretched his back. He cracked his neck twice, then started to un-do his odd underwear wrapping.

What the fuck? Why is he getting naked?

My question is soon answered as he walks over the men still sleeping and bare-ass-in the breeze, starts pissing into the large wooden bucket. He then casually stepped over the sleepers again and puts on his strange underwear - I'm going to call it a 'Waist-Turban' from now on. He then sits down and looks right at me.

"Eselp odogo?" He says questioningly in his strange language that I still couldn't place.

"What language do you speak?" I ask him in return. He doesn't understand english very well, but maybe he at least understands enough to tell me what language he speaks.

I just get a quizzical look in return.

"Lan-gua-ge ? " I ask one more time slowly, but he just shrugs. "Ryoss, te set'en tiko'set tu, Val'los." He says back to me while scratching his scruffy chin.

Fuck, nothing is getting through.

The other men start to wake up and stretch their bodies. They must have been tense from sleeping on the hard floor, because they groaned as they stretched. They all lined up near the bucket, taking their waist turbans off. The first two just pissed, but the final guy sat on the bucket. The last thing I ever wanted to see was a naked man shitting in a bucket, then wiping his ass with a handful of hay and throwing that in the bucket as well.

I try to hold my hand over my face and try breathe through my swollen nose. God, the smell! It's Horrible!

This was a form of torture all on its own. They could at least have put fucking toilets in here! The cheap kidnapping bastards!

"Uughhh" I couldn't help but to wrinkle my nose in disgust. This was a mistake, because my nose was still painfully broken.

I grimace in pain. Fuck, what doesn't hurt... My abdomen hurts worse today than yesterday. My eyes hurt, my brain is aching, and my ass hurts from sitting on this floor - but worst of all is my neck. I think I pulled a muscle when the evil pillsbury doughboy punched me. It's on fire.

Taking my swollen nose in my hand, I prepare mentally for what I'm about to do...

I clench down hard with my teeth, then pinch my nose in a firm grip and try to set it back in place. "Aarrgh!" My eyes tear up, and I take a few deep breaths in from my mouth. The air is still foul and fetid, I really didn't want to breathe it in with my mouth, but my nose was blocked.

The other men didn't even seem phased by the smell, they were just watching me set my nose back into place with mild interest.

Fucking gross. How long have these poor people had to live like this...

 

...

 

The hours went by incredibly slowly. The four prisoners were able to chat among themselves, but I had no one. The blonde man occasionally chatted with me - out of amusement it seemed, but the other prisoners seemed afraid of me. Maybe they saw my tussle with the guards.

The blonde man did push-ups, sit-ups, and squats, but the other men just watched.

I tried to look out through the iron bars, but all I could see were prisoners in the cell opposite of me. I could hear the big white guards though. They were chattering at each other with their strange high-pitched voices...

Finally, a guard did come with two buckets. One bucket was large, the same size as the toilet bucket. The other bucket had a lid on it, but I could smell some type of food in it.

The guard barks something in his high pitched voice, and two of the scrawny prisoners grab the handle of the shit bucket and place it by the iron barred door. The guard then barks again and the other prisoners back up to the wall. I back up as well, but remain wary. Maybe when he opens the cell, I can rush out and slip by him...

The guard standing behind the first one smacks his club into the bars with a loud *CLANG* and looks directly at me. Fuck, how did I miss this giant marshmallow. The guards this time weren't the same ones as before, but they all looked similar for some reason... They were also huge and hairless, and they also spoke in high pitched voices. The one with the buckets had a long scar going from his eyebrow down to his jaw. I'm gonna call him 'Scarface'. The other guard that banged on the cell door was fat, even porkier than all his buddies, so I decided to call him 'Marshmallow'.

'Scarface' opened up the cell, and grabbed the shit-bucket while 'Marshmallow' hefted his big club threateningly. Scarface then tossed a clean shit-bucket in and placed the other bucket down on the cell floor. Marshmallow then put a third bucket down beside the food bucket, then they closed the iron gate once more.

At least the smell was gone now, for the most part.

The three skinny men looked eager to rush to the bucket, but the blonde man stopped them with one word "Oyy!"

He casually waltz's to the food buckets then opens up the lid on the first one. It looked like some kind of steamed grain, maybe quinoa? There was a wooden bowl shoved into it that he used to scoop out a big portion of grain. He eats leisurely with his hand while the other men stare and salivate. After he gets done, he holds out the empty bowl towards me.

Ah! I see, he is offering me to be next in line to use the food bowl. How 'Generous' of him.

I just put a hand on my stomach, shake my head "no" and wave the bowl away. I'm not hungry at all. My head hurts too much, too much on my mind, don't really feel like eating anything.

He just shrugs then pops the lid off the other bucket after handing the bowl to one of the skinny's.

As the skinny rushes at the food bucket, the blonde man then reaches down into the other bucket. Inside was water with a wooden mug floating on top. The blonde man proceeds to fill the mug full of water then steps in front of me. He squats down on his legs and looks me right in the eye from where I was sitting and holds out the mug of water to me. "Losk" he gestures with the mug with a serious look on his face. "Reel tur fogh val'los"

I don't understand his words but his intention is clear. I take the mug of water from him, and he nods at me and gets up. Maybe he's not such a bad guy...

My head is pounding and my stomach is upset, but maybe some water will do me good...

I crane my head back and waterfall the liquid into my mouth so the others didn't have to drink after me. There was only one mug afterall. Just because the evil dickheads kidnapped me and forced me in this cell with no toilet doesn't mean I shouldn't have a little courtesy.

The water is tepid and tastes slightly metallic, but I have a feeling this is the best I'll be getting for a while.

I drink the rest of the water down and go over to hand the cup to the blonde man "Thanks" I say, not sure if he will appreciate the gesture, but I say it all the same.

He just nods in return.

 

 

 

Holy hell!  Coming up with your own language is super tedious!  I now understand what Tolkien and the writers for Star Trek had to go through.  Still, I'm glad I did because I think it looks better than random gibberish.  Now it's uniform gibberish! haha.  

 

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