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WARNING! Sexual Violence! Grossly coarse language! WARNING!

PART NINETY-EIGHT

Caleb closed the bedroom door, slipped his Doc Martin’s off and stretched out on the bed next to Marti. “Well, little Golda Meier, I gotta tell you that you’ve made one hell of an impression on my daughter,” he said, placing his hand on Marti’s knee and sliding it slowly up to her face. “She’s in there all worried about you,” he added, tweaking her nose with his fingertip. “Ain’t that nice?”

Marti frantically shook her head back and forth, her eyes wild with anger. “Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh!” Caleb admonished. “Now hold on,” he said, grabbing her hair with one hand and ripping the duct-tape from her mouth with the other. “There! Ain’t that better?”

“You piece of shit!” Marti hissed. “Coward! You’re a big man when I’m hog tied, aren’t you? How about you and me go mano a mano? Or are you afraid of a girl?”

“Afraid? Of a little Goldie-locks like you? Please. Oh, I’m gonna untie you, easier to get to some of your prime parts that way, but we won’t be man to manning, we’ll be man to womaning, and you’re gonna know it; big time.”

“Man to womaning? You really are a stupid shit, aren’t you? Mano a mano means hand to hand, not man to man, dumb-ass. You wanna give it a go, boy? Untie me, If you’re so big and bad.”

“Fuck you, Jew. I’ll untie you and then bend you over butt good. You’ll be seeing six pointed stars before I’m through with you.”

“What the hell is with you and the Jew thing? I told you, I’m not Jewish, not that it matters, cuz no matter how we slice it you’re a piece of shit. Chicken-shit, that is.”

“Not a Jew? Really? You’re full a shit. Or, what? Your mama was a Jew but your daddy’s a Catholic? You look kinda like a cashew, half-Catholic half-Jewish.”

“Whatever. Chicken-shit.”

“Ha! Knew it. Cashew through and through, aren’t you?” Caleb declared grabbing his hunting knife from the bed. “And now,” he added, flashing his knife blade in front of Marti’s eye before tearing her left nipple off with his teeth, “let’s see how you taste, like fish, or like Matza?”

Marti screamed in agony as Caleb, spitting her sheared flesh into her face, laughed and used the knife to cut the rope that held her duct-tape bound hands to her duct-taped bound feet. “Come on little cashew,” Caleb said, “it’s party time.”