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I Bleed for This? 028
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---------------------------- I Bleed for This? ------------------------------
------11.26.94-----------------------------------------------------#028------
Corky's Revenge
Apprciated by Snarfblat
by
bcat@world.std.com
The day started off like any other day, Corky arrived at the studio in the
Paramount mini-van at around 6, and went into dialog for 45 minutes, and then
went over to makeup. On his way over, he heard two stagehands laughing, and
aping Corky's walk and movements as he walked past. Corky was used to it;
all his life, ever since he got rid the hockey helmet, people had made fun of
him. He had shown them all though, by becoming a "big TV star". All his
friends back at the hospital were all so jealous. He was happy to have left
the hospital behind, but people at his show were always so mean. Sometimes
the director would yell at him when he would mess up his lines or when the
lights made him stare. He would say mean things like "C'mon, you dumb
retard, say the damn lines!" or "Do you want to have your helmet put back on?
Get to work!", which Corky hated, but he hated his helmet even more, so he
just tried to ignore it and work harder to be ok.
He looked back at the stagehands as they laughed, and when the stagehands
noticed him looking, they both clammed up and walked off. But as soon as
they were around a corner, Corky heard them both start laughing again and
making moose noises or something. His fists clentched, and he had to count
to 10 like the doctor told him to when he got mad.
He walked into the set, where everyone was busy getting ready for today's
shoot - everyone in there was a blur the way they moved around so quickly,
while Corky just stood and watched. Frank tha janitor came up and patted
Corky on the back and said "Mornin', Corky!" which made Corky smile. Someone
came up and handed Corky some lines, and so he sat down in his chair (marked
"CORKY", like he asked for) to read them.
Time passed, and finally it was ready for the first scene. Corky was to walk
into the kitchen and say some preliminary lines, go to the refridgerator and
get a drink. The woman who played his mother was supposed to enter, upon
hearing the lines.
Lights! Cameras! Action!
<stage left> Corky enters rear kitchen set door, sets down books.
Corky: "what a long day at school. I hope I can get into the math class
I wanted."
<corky opens refridgerator (PROP#262-A, SS42) gets drink>
Corky had forgotten what to do next. His mind reeled. He had just plain
drawn a blank. He remembered the first lines, and now he had to do something
else, but now he just stammered. Liz, who played his Mom, was offstage
waiting for her cue from him to come in. She was cleaning her nails, and
noticing the silence, looked up and around to see what the trouble was.
Corky would be in trouble again. Paul, the director would be mad. He would
yell at Corky. Corky felt a lump in his throat welling.
"Cut!", yelled Paul. He gave Corky a stern look and said "Start over,
please. Folks, positions please!"
Corky walked around to the back of the set again. He was beginning to sweat.
"Action!"
Corky balked on opening the back door. As he grabbed the handle, he looked
offstage to see those two stagehands bending their fingers funny and crossing
their eyes, and laughing. He stared at them for a moment, and
"CUT!! Goddamnit, Corky! What the hell is wrong?!?", screamed Paul. "Jesus
Christ almighty! Positions!"
Corky drew a deep breath and told himself this time he would get it right.
He just had to concentrate.
"Action!"
<stage left> Corky enters rear kitchen set door, sets down books.
The 1000 watt stage lights shone down upon Corky. Sweat dripped from over
his brow, smearing his makeup as it began to streak down his cheeks. He
looked up at the lights.
"Cut. Cut, Stop the fucking tape. Mr. Mongoloid, are you ok? Have you had
your medicine today?", said Paul. Corky hated Paul. Just then, Paul took
out a blue hockey helmet from behind his chair and began waving it at Corky.
"Do you want to go back to this? Do you want to go back to the hospital with
all the other retards, you fuck? Can you get your stupid down-syndrome ass
into gear sometime this century ple-"
Just then, Corky charged Paul. He ran up to the chair, waving his arms,
bleating and screeching, and knocked Paul over in the chair. There was a
glass bottle on the floor, and Corky grabbed it and began beating Paul's head
with it. The glass broke over Paul's forehead, cutting his scalp in numerous
places, and Corky took the sharp end of the remaining glass in his hands and
began scraping and slashing all over his face, like a spastic child with a
crayon. Paul was unconscious, and bleeding profusely. As Corky slashed
along, he managed to dislodge Paul's left eye, and rip his upper lip into two
pieces. His hands were covered in blood. It all happened so quick, none of
the stagehands had a chance to react before Corky had destroyed Paul's face.
Corky had grabbed Paul by his ears and was now smashing the back of his head
onto the concrete floor. A large pool of blood was forming under Paul's
head, and the >thunk< Paul's head was originally making was now more like a
>squish<, like slapping a wet sponge on concrete.
The stagehands had all rushed over, and were now trying to pull the screaming
Corky off of the now very limp Paul. Corky kicked and screamed as they
dragged him away from the dead director. One of the stagehands happened to
be one of the ones that had been mocking Corky from offstage. He dragged
Corky along with a smile on his face, and this enraged Corky further. Corky,
through his blind rage noticed the stagehand had a large buck knife on his
belt. Corky went for it, and succeeded. The 9" buck plunged into the lower
back of the stagehand, piercing his kidney. The stagehand immediately let go
of Corky, dropping to his knees. Corky, with wild slashes and stabs finished
off the stagehand, whipped around and cut off the other stagehands' hand at
the wrist, and then sunk the buck deep into his chest, and then began hacking
into his skull like a block of ice, screaming and bleating all the time.
The crew were all evacuating the sound stage now, everyone hustling to get
out the door, while a blood-soaked Corky stood, emitting a low
unnnnnnngggggggggg while he pulled on his now dirty hair, full of skin bits
and blood.
Liz, the woman who was his mother on the show was creeping around the back of
the set towards the door when Corky spotted her. He ran yelling after her,
and when she looked back to see him rapidly approaching her, she began to
scream and run towards the door. Corky, remembering the days when he was a
special olympics 100-yard dash gold medalist, the days when he was with
people who loved him, raced at Liz, and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her
down to the floor.
"I lunve you, Mommy! I lunve You!", Corky cried.
Liz, inbetween screams managed to gasp "Corky! I'm NOT your mother! Please,
let me go!", but Corky was just staring into the lights, his grasp on Liz
firm. He suddenly began stabbing into Liz's skull. Liz lost control of her
motor functions and began shitting and pissing her pants. She vomited all
down the front of the her cashmere sweater as it began absorbing the
increasing blood flow from her head wounds. Corky dragged her carcass over
into the kitchen set, and began ripping her clothes from her lifeless frame.
Soon the woman was naked, covered in feces, urine, vomit and blood. Corky
lifted the corpse onto the counter on the set, and rolled her on her stomach.
Corky was dazed by the naked woman, having never seen a real one before.
Some of the stagehands had shown him movies of people before, but he had
never actually had one in front of him. He began to draw patterns in her
back with the mixing fluids.
"I lunve you, mommy. you're so p-p-prinny...", Corky whispered.
For the first time in Corky's life, he began to feel an erection coming on.
He looked down at the growing tent in the front of his blood-soaked
corduroys, and unzipped his fly. His small penis popped out of the front of
his briefs. He ran the tip of his member up and down the slick surface of
Liz's leg, covering his cock with the muddy mix of bodily fluids. Corky
dragged Liz closer to him, and began to push his malformed dick into her
obscured hairy crotch area, missing the mark every time. Frustrated, he
tried her anus, and easier target to spot. His stiff choad entered her
lifeless body. Corky began working up a rhythm, and soon, Liz's body shook
back and forth with the mongoloids' brutal thrusts. Corky's eyes glassed
over as he fired his mutant seed into her dead anal cavity. Corky took off
his pants altogether and wandered off towards Paul's corpse, knife in hand.
He stood above Paul, and addressed him: "You were very mean to me, Paul. Why
din gnu call be nabes? I dinnd like that very much."
Paul lay lifeless, his eyes staring blankly.
Corky dropped to his knees and began sawing at Pauls' neck with the buck
knife. After 3 minutes of hacking at his spine, Pauls' head finally came
loose from his body, with a gush of black spinal fluid and deep red blood.
Corky wandered around the set, staring at the lights, knife in one hand,
Pauls' head carried around by the hair in the other.
Corky thought he heard sirens in the distance.
6 months later:
Corky is sitting by a window in the hospital he tried so hard to get away
from. He stares out onto a large courtyard, where his friends are having
arts and crafts time. Corky's arms are bound by a straight jacket. He is
wearing his blue helmet again.
==============================================================================
IBFT: If we hate you, you don't deserve to know why.
Information:
bleed@unix.amherst.edu
ftp.etext.org:/pub/Zines/IBFT The Eleventh Hour (617)696-3146
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