One PM, Brampton Daylight savings Time, 7 AM Tree time…
My Keurig is its last blow as it makes my first cup of coffee for the morning. I step out on the deck, unzip my fly, and piss through the railing. Some cop yells “What the hell are you doing, mate? I’m going to run you down to the station” before I realize I am on the top floor balcony at the Brampton Hyatt and not at the Tree estate!
I grab the leather-bound breakfast menu from balcony table and holler down as I flip it open saying “Sorry about that… Blame the jet lag. But I warn you I have diplomatic immunity (I point to the menu that he can barely see) so if you want to arrest me and spend the next week writing reports come on up!”
He doesn’t, of course. I call room service and order a bottle of Seagram’s 7. I am told the bar does not open until 11 AM. I swallow two aspirin dry and say “What time is it in Tokyo?”
“Sir I do not…”
“You are looking at a fucking computer, no?”
“Well yes but what…”
“Do me a favor and ‘Google’ what time it is in Tokyo” I ask. He tells me it around 1:15 PM there. I say “Then the bar is open. Get me a bottle of Seagram’s 7 before my coffee gets cold!”
“Sir, there is a microwave in your room that if you set on ‘beverage’ will reheat your coffee to the…”
“Listen, you dumb fuck, I already paid $4 US for a cup of Eul’s Slave Bard Premium Blend Coffee in a Keurig cup and I ain’t reheating it. Do you have children?”
“No, sir”
“Do you hope to” I ask.
“Well yes but what does that have to do coffee?”
“If my Seagram’s isn’t up here in two minutes I am going to shot your balls off!”
The Seagram’s arrived on time. I hate these trips but someone has to do them if we are going to hold the union together. the PC fuckers want to shut down capital punishment!!!
Tree
I am awakened and taken from my cell to a shower that has hot and cold water! I am surprised there are no marks visible from my scourging yesterday. Although my loins are still tender from the wooden pony and the Judas Cradle they are much better since Polly rubbed her elixir on and in them. My shoulders even recovered somewhat from the strappado. When I finish showering I towel off and comb my hair. There wasn’t a tangle in it in it and it feels softer than I can ever remember it. I’m going to have to get some of that when I get home. What the hell am I think- ‘when I get home’? I’ll be in pine box six feet under this time next week.
Back in a cell that is cleaner and better lit than mine a tall woman comes in and starts pawing and pinching me like I am some produce at a grocery store.
View attachment 503782
I don’t realize how perceptive I am until I ask “Who are you and what are you doing?”
“I am Ingrid and I’ll be your chef this Saturday.”
“So I get a good meal before I am hanged?”
“I wouldn’t know about that. I’m spit-roasting you after you are hanged. The archbishop will be serving you for dinner. His cousin- you may know him- is here from the UVM” she explains.
“Despard Wragg is here” I ask barely able to hide my contempt. So I am going to be hanged and cooked on Saturday! Just as I wonder what else could go wrong HE walks in.
Nonchalantly Tree says to me “Hi, Barb, how’s it going?”
View attachment 503785
“Just fucking great… I’m going to be hanged and spit-roasted on Saturday and I presume you are here to do the honors of the hanging part.”
“No, I’m here on union business. Your hangman Olaf is a member of the International Brotherhood. Every five years a hangman has to be recertified and when I heard you were getting your neck stretched I figured it would be as a good time as any to do it. Don’t worry about it Barb; I don’t recall a hanging he’s done in the last five years where the wench didn’t last at least 15 minutes and he came within a minute of tying my all-time record of 34 minutes. You have a good man doing you” Tree says.
I run my hands through my hair and can’t believe what I have just heard. Tree hands me a back of Madame Wu’s and a THT Zippo lighter saying “Keep it. I’ll get it back Saturday. Oh and at three this afternoon you are going to be interviewed live for Fox News Sunday. I was asked to tell you that if you don’t cooperate you’ll be hanged for only 5 minutes then be taken down to be spit-roasted alive.”
View attachment 503783
Tree leaves and a guard locks an iron collar around my neck and my wrists are shackled crossed behind my back. Things just don’t any better I think until in walks the chipper pair of Siss and Kathy Summers! What the fuck are they doing here?
View attachment 503784
I ask them exactly that and Siss explains when Despard Wragg chartered the THT Inc. jet and asked them to come along they couldn’t say no. I look at them and ask incredulously “Despard pried open his wallet and chartered a 747?”
“No, it was just a Gulfstream” Kathy says. “The damn thing doesn’t even have a dungeon in it!”
“So you came to watch me hang?”
“Oh, more than that… We are invited to dinner that evening where you are the main entrée! I’ve never had witch-girl meat before” Siss says almost giddy with excitement.
“I am not a witch, Siss! How long have you known me? Have you ever seen me do sorcery” I protest.
She lifts her little gold dress baring her shaved pussy and says “Not sorcery per say but your tongue has worked magic on this more than once!”
God help me what have I gotten into?
-Barb Moore
Tree