Prompt Day #119: Give the eulogy for a bastard who deserved it, told from the point-of-view of:
- The abused spouse or jilted lover
- The bastard’s co-worker
- The murderer
- The bastard’s pet
WARNING: DISTURBING ADULT CONTENT. I’m serious, not sure where my head was this morning, but frankly, it was a little frightening how this flowed. I wonder how it ends truly. I don’t know, I had to stop because it was getting ridiculously too long for a eulogy and also, I do have a life to live outside my writings (as much as it pains me to admit). In Microsoft word, where I type this and then copy paste it here, I had each character’s dialog differing by font but here, I can’t do that, I hope it makes sense that each change in print (bold, italics, etc) is a different speaker. Just playing around with different ways to write.
Rest in Pieces
A Funeral Who-Dun-it
Hello everyone and welcome. Thank you for coming even though no one really wants to be here. I think it’s safe to say that everyone in this room hated the bastard and don’t worry, you will all have the chance to get up and say something about him. As many of you know, the casket is closed because of the condition of the body. While we don’t yet know who killed him, and therefore to whom we all owe our deepest gratitudes, we do know that he was killed by a single gunshot wound to the head. All the other injuries were incurred after death and the police say by at least three different offenders. I needed to proceed with a funeral of some sorts so as not to arouse suspicion. I decided to hold it here in this private chapel because I want everyone to be able to say anything they please without concern of charges being brought against them. This is why I have asked you all to sign confidentiality notices that anything said in this building cannot be spoken of outside nor is any of it admissible in a court of law. Shall we begin?
As Carl’s wife, I feel like I have likely suffered the most and therefore I will start. I met Carl when I was sixteen. He was eighteen and the captain of the football team. Every girl wanted to date him but for some reason, he only had eyes for me. It was such an ego boost that I refused to see that he was no prize. We married the following year when he was in college and I was a pregnant high school drop-out. It was the right thing to do his family said. My family had disowned me so what they thought didn’t matter. When I was four months along, he beat the baby out of me. I hemorrhaged so bad that they had to do an emergency hysterectomy. There would be no more babies. I didn’t see that then, but now I know what a blessing it truly was. I guess I stayed because I had nowhere else to go and because Carl was smart and successful and his money bought a nice home and reputation that neither of us deserved. The beatings became less frequent as his business trips took up more and more of his free time. And because his sadistic sexual urges were being satisfied by a constant supply of mistresses, the abuse settled into a horrific onslaught of mental and emotional torment that I found I could hide much easier. Occasionally, for old time’s sake, I suppose, he would tie me to the post in the basement for a beating, but where he used to take me down and torture me sexually, lately he would simply leave me hang for a day or two while he got off with someone else.
Yes, I was the first to find him in his office, slumped over onto his desk. At first I thought he was sleeping until I saw the clotted blood and brains mixed with what looked like a coughed up hairball stuck to his framed diploma. I picked his head up by the hair and saw the hole in his right temple. The door to his office, as I’m sure every one of you know is to the left of him as he sits. This means that whoever shot him was let into his office and walked around his desk while he stayed seated. Obviously someone he knew. This made me smile. If someone should kill Carl, I wanted it to be someone with a score to settle, someone who betrayed his trust rather than some anonymous burglar. Any ways, I found him and I stood there and I stared at him, helpless and pathetic. Sitting on the bookshelf was that damn lifetime achievement award he got from his college fraternity. I’m sure you’ve all seen it; the tall crystal pyramid? The detectives are familiar with it. They found it pounded into his mouth, piercing the back of his throat, I hear it took two of them to get it out. What they probably know is that before I pounded it into his stupid mouth with one of his antique text books, I beat him in the head with it and gouged out his eyes with its point. What they probably will find out when all the pathology reports come out, is that first he was sodomized with it. Don’t any of you look at me like that. As I said, there were at least three people who mutilated his corpse before the cleaning lady found it and called the police. So that means all the other things that were done, were done by some of you. And with that, I turn it over to Robert McClinton, his business partner.
Hello. As Cindy said and many of you know, I’m Rob, Carl’s business partner. We’ve been in business together for the last fifteen years since graduating college. While I was never physically abused by the man, I was blackmailed, my business income was embezzled by Carl and my marriage was ruined after the bastard had a go with my wife, got her pregnant, then demanded she have an abortion or else he would see to it that he did to my own child what she refused to do to his. Why didn’t we go to the police you ask? Well, the business’s books were cooked—well cooked, money laundered after illegal investments—I would have gone to prison for a very long time and lose my family either way. My wife had the abortion, well, she made the appointment but he got to her first and I assume used similar tactics to what Cindy just described. Luckily Janie fared better and only miscarried, but fearing for her life and my sons, she left. I have no idea where they are now. She left a note saying it was safer this way for all of us. Maybe I can find her now that this bastard’s dead.
I saw him a few times the day he died. He was in his usual mood—the “leave me the fuck alone, I’ll find you if I need something from you” mood. I’d seen a few woman come in for appointments and he left abruptly with the last girl who wasn’t in his office for very long. Usually when Carl left with a woman, he was gone for a few hours before coming back a little disheveled but this time he was only gone for an hour before returning just as well put together as he was when he’d left. I did not see him again. I left early. Mona said he was busy and not to be disturbed so I didn’t say goodbye. I met a client for dinner and decided to run back to the office to get some files to look at over the weekend. I saw the lights still on in his office. That was odd as he never stays late. I walked in and saw him. He was laying on his side in a fetal position on his desk. The trophy lodged in his mouth, his eyes, bloody, black holes and the back of his head was caved in. His pants were pulled down around his ankles and there was blood and shit smeared all over his thighs. I laughed. God forgive me, I laughed and laughed and laughed. I saw his college fraternity ring on his right hand and I got a bug up my ass that he had no right to wear it, obviously someone else had felt that way about his lifetime achievement award. I tried to pull it off his finger but he was already bloaty and swollen. I couldn’t get it off. I almost left then but realized my fingerprints were probably all over his hand and ring now. So, I went out to my car and grabbed the toolbox. I had a big pair of wire cutters that worked well in cutting that finger right off. And then, because it felt so good, I chopped all them off, took his ring, since he always had his fingers in other people’s business, I put his right up his own. I figured any prints that may have been on them were probably wiped clean on their way up. I left his light on as if he was still hard at work for once in his life and left. That’s all I know about it. I’ll hand the mic over to Lisa. Lisa is the last girl he left with on the day he died.
Hello, everyone. Hello Cindy; we’ve never officially met but I’m sure you know of me. I met Carl on an S&M website. He was looking for a sub and I thought that’s what I was. We met, had a few sessions and it was all fine and dandy. But as time went on, things got weirder and he got rougher. He would choke me and tie me up and leave me tied all day in a motel room with no food and no idea when he might return. He dislocated my wrists once and then most recently, my jaw when he was trying to cram his fist into my mouth. On the day he died, he sent me a message with instructions to go to meet this woman-a Mistress Cleo—at this address in a rather seedy part of town. I went of course. I’d been taught the penalties for disobeying him. When I got there and handed her the note he had enclosed in my message, she read it and lead me into a room. There in that room were women and men chained to the wall. They were all wearing collars and some even had these tails attached to butt plug type things and some had muzzles and each had a mat to lay on and food and water dishes! They were being treated like animals. None of them even looked bothered when she brought me in there. Across the room were shelves with collars and piercings and all sorts of apparatuses well beyond my comfort zone. I realized then what he had sent me for. She asked me if he had told me yet where I was to be “stationed” and I flipped out. I shoved her and I ran out and I went straight to his office. I didn’t care anymore. I was going to go to the police and tell them everything and I didn’t care what he did to me. I would get a restraining order. Hell I was even going to tell his wife. When I got to his office, I walked right past his secretary and she tried to stop me but I shoved past her and went right into his office. He was just shutting the door to his closet and locking it. He turned around to me and pulled up his zipper and that’s when I realized what she meant by station. He had one of those things in his office closet! He probably kept one in all these different places, God only knows where my station would have been. I started banging on the closet doors shouting “are you ok, are you ok?” He hit me and knocked me out of the way. Then he grabbed me by the arm, shoved a gun into my side, and marched me out of the office. He was growling at me under his breath but trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. I stayed quiet of course, assuming that as soon as we got somewhere private, he would kill me. I was terrified. We got in his car and he drove me back to Mistress Cleo’s. Before we went in he told me I was to be his most prized possession and to do as instructed. He said that I would be taking the place of his wife in all physical matters and his home was to be my station. The guy was insane. I agreed though because I thought he would kill me. He left me there with her, Mistress Cleo. I was chained to the wall for most of the night when Cleo came back in, removed all the chains and bondage, gave me my things and told me to go. I was so confused. I went straight back to his office. It was stupid yes, but I was not thinking straight, plus after all I had experienced in just that short time, I wanted to save the girl he was keeping in his closet.
When I arrived, I saw the light was still on in his office. I had a key to the building so I let myself in. That’s when I found him, lying dead and mutilated. The closet door closed but surprisingly not locked. There was no girl in there but just as I suspected, there was a chain, a collar, a butt-plug with attached tail, a mat and food dishes. And there was a small doggie door like hole cut into the wall between the closet and his private bathroom. I ran in there hoping to find his prisoner but all I found was a large litter box type thing that he’d been making her use. It was obvious the chain didn’t reach the toilet. It was sickening. I decided that she must have been the one to shoot him and that I would protect her. So I searched the office and found a large duffle bag. I put all the stuff from the closet and the litter box. I wiped the place down as best I could and I took the bag and left. I only wish I had remembered to grab the key ring out of his pocket. There might be more girls out there, there probably is…sick bastard…..Does anybody else want to say anything, or can we get the hell out of here now?
I have something I would like to say. My name is Janie McClinton. I have been a prisoner of Carl’s since the day he forced me to send my son away with a nanny he hired to ensure that I would do as he said and write the letter to you, Rob. I was sent to Mistress Cleo for “training” and then returned to Carl where I was kept in his closet at work for the last six months. He’d already had me out for the day and I wasn’t expecting to be out again when he opened the door that evening and drug me out by my hair. He had his gun to my head when he bent me over his desk. I thought I was dead, but as he got more into it, he let go of it to choke me. I grabbed it, eased it under my stomach, and willed myself not to pass out. When he’d finished, he reached for the gun. I knew it was my only chance. I spun around as quickly as I could and shot him in the head. He slumped to the floor. His secretary came running in and I pointed the gun at her. I made her help me get his pants back up and back into his chair. We moved his diploma to the other wall so it looked like he’d been shot sitting in his seat. I told her to get out of there and never come back. She did. I bet she’d suffered enough to not need to think about it. I was scared and I dropped the gun. I didn’t know what to do. I decided to lock myself up again in the closet, thinking when he was found, they would find me and I would be freed with no suspicion against me. I was so exhausted and so overwhelmed, I fell asleep. I woke up when I heard Cindy beating on him and screaming obscenities. I decided she might think the wrong thing, so I stayed where I was. Then I heard someone else come in. I didn’t know who it was but they certainly weren’t calling the cops. So I stayed hidden. I must have fallen asleep again, when all of a sudden, the closet door was opened. Mistress Cleo was standing there. She had his key ring in her hand. I looked at the body and it had been beaten so badly. Cleo said nothing. She threw some clothes at me and told me a cab was waiting for me outside. She asked me if I knew who had killed him and I said no. I had no idea. She told me to go and she would take care of everything else. I left. The cab took me to a hotel where I found clothes, money and instructions for getting my son back. He’s ok, Rob. He’s with my parents right now.
Lisa, thank you for thinking of all the things I hadn’t thought of. Cindy, God bless you, I cannot imagine the horrors you’ve lived through. I don’t know where Cleo is or Mona. I don’t know who went back and cut him into all those pieces. All I know is we are all free of him and if we’re smart we’ll stick together long enough to come up with a story that the police can’t crack and we’ll stick to it. But for now, I’d like to get out of this place and away from that coffin; it’s making me claustrophobic. Rob and I have a lovely wine cellar, can we go there and leave this bastard to rest in pieces?