โWell, Kent, itโs time for you to drop trou so I can check out your colorectal health.โ
โSure thing, Doc.โ I sh-loop off my pants and bend over onto the steel examination table.
Ch-CHUNK. Manacles snap shut on my wrists and ankles, locking me in place.
โWhat the fuck?โ I wriggle around, trying to slip out of my restraints. โIs this really necessaโโ
My doctor rips off his old-man, liver-spotted face. Holy shit, it was a mask all along! And underneath itโฆ
MY FUCKING EX! IRMA HORFENDORFF!
โI wanted diamonds, Kent! You shouldโve bought me some!โ
โRRHH!โ I try to Hulk out, but my manacles hold fast. โFUCK! I told youโdiamonds are a scam! They were artificially pumped up in value through a deceptive marketing campaign by DeBeers in the โ40s! On top of that, natural diamonds increase suffering by orders of magnitude because the Kimberly Process is a goddamn joke, and even the clean ones facilitate horrendous labor practices when they get refined in Surat! I offered to get you a lab-grown rock, butโโ
โSHUT THE FUCK UP!โ she bellows. โYouโre gonna pay.โ She cackles. โHoly shit, you are gonna PAY.โ She clicks a button on a remote, prompting an automated cart to trundle into the room. Mounted on the front is an extra-spiky pineapple.
โWhatโฆwhat the FUCK?โ Sweat breaks out across my brow.
She produces a salt-shaker, turns it upside down, and begins shaking salt across the pineapplesโs crown and spines. โYepโitโs going all the way in.โ
โWhatโs with the salt????โ
โFor extra pain.โ She purses her lips, then says, โYou know what? Fuck the salt.โ She starts shaking hot sauce onto the most terrifying buttplug in all of existence. โThis right here was made from ghost peppers. HEH heh heh!โ
Mother of God. She’s about to gape me out like a Thanksgiving Turkey, Wait a secโฆfor some odd reason, my phone is within reach. So I stretch my fingers, paw at its edge until I can grab it, then open the eReader app to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality-distortion powers. Magic flash.
Aristotle jumps out of an interdimensional portal, brandishing a book titled LOGIC. โBehold!โ he shouts. โI wrote this!โ
โNo!โ she screams, turning away and warding it off with outspread hands. โNO! IT BURNNSSSSSS!!!!โ
He advances toward her, brandishing the book. โInduction! Deduction! Fallacies and proofs! Begone!โ As my ex flees the room, shrieking and hissing, I breathe an exaggerated sigh of relief. My poop chute lives to see another day! Whew!
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