bobinder
ARTISAN
http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/barb-moore-spy.6282/
'It 2053 and the IMF hunt for the witches throws an ever-widening net.'
'It 2053 and the IMF hunt for the witches throws an ever-widening net.'
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Barb Moore, Spy...
- Thread starter thehangingtree
- Start date
Caught me in a continuity goof! Make it 139 years since the last public hanging in Arkansas!!!http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/barb-moore-spy.6282/
'It 2053 and the IMF hunt for the witches throws an ever-widening net.'
I go to the rented obsolete county jail to deliver the bad news to Barb. How was I to know she watched the damn thing live on TV? I guarantee you I didn’t have TV when I was in jail when I was her age!
“You lost again, Tree “she says to me.
“How the fuck was I to know the judge wouldn’t be related to me” I scowl.
“It’s alright” she says. “These are the most almost legitimate charges ever brought against me and even if you were a good lawyer you weren’t going to get me out of this.”
“Thank you, I think” I reply as I light a Marlboro then chug from a fifth of Seagram’s 7.
Tree, they don’t do the ‘Executed Virgin Prevention Protocol in Arkansas’. I’ve got nothing to pay you with but a good time.”
I take another swig of Seagram’s and…
We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by…
Tree removes the collar from my neck. I ask “Are you getting me out of here?”
“Not likely. The IMF has at least two dozen guards with submachineguns out there” Tree explains.
“They think I’m that dangerous” I ask.
“No, they think you are that valuable to PAWS and they may try to break you out and if they can’t do that they will try to kill you.”
“Why would they do that? The IMF is going to hang me anyway.”
“The IMF thinks PAWS are worried about whom you know and you might rat out other PAWS members to save your neck.”
“I only know a couple of people at headquarters in the blue state and I’m sure the IMF knows who they are since they have been in the news. If I need to talk to another operative I call the server and say their code and I’m transferred to her. Everyone uses an alias” I explain. “So the bitch Kathy Summers is going to hang me. Is she any good?”
“I haven’t seen her work in person but I hear the spectators enjoy her work” Tree says as he leaves locking the cell as he goes.
Unspoken is I will suffer for a while before the noose closes…
-Barb Moore
Tree
“You lost again, Tree “she says to me.
“How the fuck was I to know the judge wouldn’t be related to me” I scowl.
“It’s alright” she says. “These are the most almost legitimate charges ever brought against me and even if you were a good lawyer you weren’t going to get me out of this.”
“Thank you, I think” I reply as I light a Marlboro then chug from a fifth of Seagram’s 7.
Tree, they don’t do the ‘Executed Virgin Prevention Protocol in Arkansas’. I’ve got nothing to pay you with but a good time.”
I take another swig of Seagram’s and…
We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by…
Tree removes the collar from my neck. I ask “Are you getting me out of here?”
“Not likely. The IMF has at least two dozen guards with submachineguns out there” Tree explains.
“They think I’m that dangerous” I ask.
“No, they think you are that valuable to PAWS and they may try to break you out and if they can’t do that they will try to kill you.”
“Why would they do that? The IMF is going to hang me anyway.”
“The IMF thinks PAWS are worried about whom you know and you might rat out other PAWS members to save your neck.”
“I only know a couple of people at headquarters in the blue state and I’m sure the IMF knows who they are since they have been in the news. If I need to talk to another operative I call the server and say their code and I’m transferred to her. Everyone uses an alias” I explain. “So the bitch Kathy Summers is going to hang me. Is she any good?”
“I haven’t seen her work in person but I hear the spectators enjoy her work” Tree says as he leaves locking the cell as he goes.
Unspoken is I will suffer for a while before the noose closes…
-Barb Moore
Tree
As I sit alone, naked in this wretched cell, I can hear Bull's deep baritone somewhere off in the distance:O' man river,
Dat ol' man river,
He mus'know sumpin'
But don't say nuthin'
He jes' keeps rollin'
He keeps on rollin' along.
That line "jes' helps rollin" makes me think of this story and how Tree jes' keeps typin and churning out episodes that land me deeper in shit and deader than dead.
When will it end? Not until He has me hanging naked on Main Street in beautiful downtown Paris ((Arkansas not France) and not until some yet to be revealed fate catches up with me in ending number 3.
Till then I won't say nuthin
And jes' keep hopin
That SOMEBODY GETS ME OUTTA HERE!
They will get you out of there... the jail is 34 miles from the gallows!
What do you mean that is not what she meant???
What do you mean that is not what she meant???
The week leading up to Barb’s hanging was quite eventful except for Barb. She would spend the week locked in her cell. She looks down at her tumescent nipples knowing when the when the week is over they will be displayed before a crowd as she strangles as she hangs.
I visit her every day. She is held in solitary confinement but the guards let me in as a professional courtesy to a professional executioner. I leave her a couple packs of Madame Wu’s each day. The IMF’s executioner Kathy Summers is late getting to Paris, Arkansas and I am asked to inspect the gallows where Barb will be hanged. It’s sort of a Rube Goldberg device with a tall derrick topped by a horizontal beam with half in front of the upright and the rest behind the beam. The noose dangles from an eyebolt with the rope running through a hole through the upright to a pulley at the back side of the beam. From there it drops into a hole in the gallows’ deck. The rope passes through a ‘drag block’ that that will inhibit the rope’s descent through it. Below the deck is a 30 gallon trash can hangs from the rope with a hose hanging over it.
I tie a weight to the noose that is about equal to Barb’s. I check the noose and have to admit it is almost as good as what I do. I put a piece of tap about an inch below the noose’s coil to see how quickly it closes. I pull the lever. This loosens the drag but doesn’t release it entirely. The lever also opens a ball valve and the hose starts filling the trash can. When almost 14 gallons of water fills the can the weight is slowly lifted from the gallows’ deck. I light up a Marlboro then take a long drag from my flask. After my second Marlboro the noose has not made it half way to the tape. I think ‘ingenious but Barb ain’t going to appreciate this’.
Friday morning I go to the Dew Drop In diner for breakfast. The Slave News Network (SNN) is on the TV and the ‘crawl’ at the bottom screen announces ‘breaking news’ (of course). I watch it a moment then yell “Turn it up, Please!”
The talking head on the TV announces Kathy Summers was captured by an unknown subversive organization and they are willing to trade her for the PAWS spy Barbara Moore but if Moore is hanged, Summers will die the same way! A video of Summers locked in a small box with her head poking out of lid. She is forced to suck the cock of one of her captors.
The Western Hemisphere Director of IMF operations is on a video conference call. “Does anyone recognize this prick?!?!?!” he growls
The next video shown has Kathy Summers begging for her life crying “I only do what the courts demand! Let Moore go! I don’t want to die!”
‘Interesting’ I think. ‘She is the same woman that on the Sunday news shows would brag that her brutal hangings were deterrents to subversive activities by groups like PAWS.’
The last clip is of Kathy mounted rather uncomfortably to be subjected to the Virgin Martyrs Prevention Protocol.
Even in the still shots the fear in her eyes is obvious
The veneer of toughness was washed away when she was taken. She screams and cries, pleading for someone to rescue her.
I chase down the damn-near raw eggs they call ‘sunny-side up’ with a Seven and water. I STAGGER to my room and find Judy Tree lying on the Murphy bed’s mattress that is devoid of sheets, blankets, and pillows.
“What are you doing here, Judy” I ask.
“I brought you a message and was hoping to get something for it” she says. I toss her a Ben Franklin ($100 US). She takes the money, wades the paper the message is written on and throws it in my face, and as she leave my room says "Get yourself off old man! She storms naked across the gravel parking lot to the manager’s cabin. She does have a nice ass… and tits… and face… WHAT THE FUCK IS AN OLD FART LIKE ME TURNING HER DOWN FOR? I bend over and pick up the note. I carefully open the paper wad up and put my reading glasses on.
“Due to unfortunate events Executioner Kathy Summers may be unavailable to execute the Convict Moore. The IMF is prepared to offer you ‘time and a half’ on your standard posted rates due to the short notice.”
It’s a generous offer- $12,500 for an event I don’t have any expense in. I think I need to talk this over with Barb- why I don’t know… It could be that ‘male brain’ and ‘pecker brain’ thing. I wonder if that thought was redundant. Fuck it… I climb into the F-350 and after ten minutes looking for the keys before deciding to walk to the rented obsolete county jail. I do pretty well when the center stipe in the road is solid but in the ‘pass zone’ where it is a broken stripe I get lost… just a bit. The county sheriff pulls up and says “Tree, where the hell are you going walking east on the westbound lane?”
“I’ve got to talk to Barb”
“Get your ass in and I’ll drive you there.”
I have nothing to lose beside my life being wiped out by a chicken farm feed-truck running over me at midnight on Arkansas Route 22. He drives me to the jail. The IMF officer in charge tells me I can see Barb when she is hanged tomorrow. The sheriff pulls out a gun (where he had it don’t ask me) that would make Bull or Gunner proud and says “Tree will see her now.”
I go to the cell. Barb astutely notices it is still dark and asks me what is going on. I explain what is happening and sources have it that the IMF isn’t going to bargain Barb for Kathy Summers and they want me to hang her.
Then he adds “Are you OK with that Barb?”
What kind of question is that?
-Barb Moore… sigh
Tree
I visit her every day. She is held in solitary confinement but the guards let me in as a professional courtesy to a professional executioner. I leave her a couple packs of Madame Wu’s each day. The IMF’s executioner Kathy Summers is late getting to Paris, Arkansas and I am asked to inspect the gallows where Barb will be hanged. It’s sort of a Rube Goldberg device with a tall derrick topped by a horizontal beam with half in front of the upright and the rest behind the beam. The noose dangles from an eyebolt with the rope running through a hole through the upright to a pulley at the back side of the beam. From there it drops into a hole in the gallows’ deck. The rope passes through a ‘drag block’ that that will inhibit the rope’s descent through it. Below the deck is a 30 gallon trash can hangs from the rope with a hose hanging over it.
I tie a weight to the noose that is about equal to Barb’s. I check the noose and have to admit it is almost as good as what I do. I put a piece of tap about an inch below the noose’s coil to see how quickly it closes. I pull the lever. This loosens the drag but doesn’t release it entirely. The lever also opens a ball valve and the hose starts filling the trash can. When almost 14 gallons of water fills the can the weight is slowly lifted from the gallows’ deck. I light up a Marlboro then take a long drag from my flask. After my second Marlboro the noose has not made it half way to the tape. I think ‘ingenious but Barb ain’t going to appreciate this’.
Friday morning I go to the Dew Drop In diner for breakfast. The Slave News Network (SNN) is on the TV and the ‘crawl’ at the bottom screen announces ‘breaking news’ (of course). I watch it a moment then yell “Turn it up, Please!”
The talking head on the TV announces Kathy Summers was captured by an unknown subversive organization and they are willing to trade her for the PAWS spy Barbara Moore but if Moore is hanged, Summers will die the same way! A video of Summers locked in a small box with her head poking out of lid. She is forced to suck the cock of one of her captors.
The Western Hemisphere Director of IMF operations is on a video conference call. “Does anyone recognize this prick?!?!?!” he growls
The next video shown has Kathy Summers begging for her life crying “I only do what the courts demand! Let Moore go! I don’t want to die!”
‘Interesting’ I think. ‘She is the same woman that on the Sunday news shows would brag that her brutal hangings were deterrents to subversive activities by groups like PAWS.’
The last clip is of Kathy mounted rather uncomfortably to be subjected to the Virgin Martyrs Prevention Protocol.
Even in the still shots the fear in her eyes is obvious
The veneer of toughness was washed away when she was taken. She screams and cries, pleading for someone to rescue her.
I chase down the damn-near raw eggs they call ‘sunny-side up’ with a Seven and water. I STAGGER to my room and find Judy Tree lying on the Murphy bed’s mattress that is devoid of sheets, blankets, and pillows.
“What are you doing here, Judy” I ask.
“I brought you a message and was hoping to get something for it” she says. I toss her a Ben Franklin ($100 US). She takes the money, wades the paper the message is written on and throws it in my face, and as she leave my room says "Get yourself off old man! She storms naked across the gravel parking lot to the manager’s cabin. She does have a nice ass… and tits… and face… WHAT THE FUCK IS AN OLD FART LIKE ME TURNING HER DOWN FOR? I bend over and pick up the note. I carefully open the paper wad up and put my reading glasses on.
“Due to unfortunate events Executioner Kathy Summers may be unavailable to execute the Convict Moore. The IMF is prepared to offer you ‘time and a half’ on your standard posted rates due to the short notice.”
It’s a generous offer- $12,500 for an event I don’t have any expense in. I think I need to talk this over with Barb- why I don’t know… It could be that ‘male brain’ and ‘pecker brain’ thing. I wonder if that thought was redundant. Fuck it… I climb into the F-350 and after ten minutes looking for the keys before deciding to walk to the rented obsolete county jail. I do pretty well when the center stipe in the road is solid but in the ‘pass zone’ where it is a broken stripe I get lost… just a bit. The county sheriff pulls up and says “Tree, where the hell are you going walking east on the westbound lane?”
“I’ve got to talk to Barb”
“Get your ass in and I’ll drive you there.”
I have nothing to lose beside my life being wiped out by a chicken farm feed-truck running over me at midnight on Arkansas Route 22. He drives me to the jail. The IMF officer in charge tells me I can see Barb when she is hanged tomorrow. The sheriff pulls out a gun (where he had it don’t ask me) that would make Bull or Gunner proud and says “Tree will see her now.”
I go to the cell. Barb astutely notices it is still dark and asks me what is going on. I explain what is happening and sources have it that the IMF isn’t going to bargain Barb for Kathy Summers and they want me to hang her.
Then he adds “Are you OK with that Barb?”
What kind of question is that?
-Barb Moore… sigh
Tree
It doesn't matter which ending, really, does it, Barb?
The one where the prince arrives on a white charger and whisks you off to a fairy castle...
...doesn't seem to be forthcoming
Wait till we get to the third ending!!!It doesn't matter which ending, really, does it, Barb?
The one where the prince arrives on a white charger and whisks you off to a fairy castle...
View attachment 522714
...doesn't seem to be forthcoming
What do you mean is it ok with me if you hang me? What kind of question is that? I mean how far can one stretch
In American baseball they say three strikes and you're out. So far in this story I have been crucified by you. Now you say I will be hung by you. What will the third strike be?
Guess I will have to wait till after I am hung to find that out, won't I?
Sigh.
I wouldn't bet on the white charger- Barb and Siss had borrowed it!!!It doesn't matter which ending, really, does it, Barb?
The one where the prince arrives on a white charger and whisks you off to a fairy castle...
View attachment 522714
...doesn't seem to be forthcoming
Maybe Tree's Mini Moke limousine could suffice???
Barb seems stressed about something. Perhaps some counseling will help.View attachment 522769 What do you mean is it ok with me if you hang me?
What kind of question is that? I mean how far can one stretchmy neckour relationship? You gotta admit it's a weird one. I come over to your place, you get me drunk and give me Wu's to smoke, get me undressed and I don't remember what happens after that. Or you put me in a cell, I watch you get drunk, you give me Wu's to smoke. I'm already undressed, and you tell me how I will die, and of course I don't remember anything about what happens after that!
In American baseball they say three strikes and you're out. So far in this story I have been crucified by you. Now you say I will be hung by you. What will the third strike be?
Guess I will have to wait till after I am hung to find that out, won't I?
Sigh.
Notice where he places his consultation recording cameraI wouldn't bet on the white charger- Barb and Siss had borrowed it!!!
View attachment 522806
Maybe Tree's Mini Moke limousine could suffice???
View attachment 522807
Barb seems stressed about something. Perhaps some counseling will help.
View attachment 522808
Saturday Morning, the day of Barb’s execution…
From the IMF Western Hemisphere Headquarters a crack team of data forensic scientists are dispatched to SNN headquarters to find what they can about the ominous PAWS video they had broadcasted.
The lead member is stunned to find it was sent to the network on a DVD and not even a Blu-Ray disc! It was delivered by a courier who told the local police he was paid $20 in cash by ‘some white guy’ to deliver it to SNN a block away. The only fingerprints on the case or the disc were those of courier and a few SNN employees. Delivered as it was there was no web address to track. The top scientist on the team feverishly works in his portable lab to find what he can on the DVD that might indicate where PAWS is holding Kathy Summers and perhaps save her from being hanged. The team leader says to him over the intercom “Scotty work faster. Time is running out!”
“I’m working as fast as I can but if I push any harder the bi-lithium will overheat and you’ll get nothing!”
A half hour later he emerges from the lab and tells his boss “It isn’t good. From all the metadata all I can tell you for sure is the disc was burned on a low dollar laptop available at any discount store. The original video was shot on a compact VHS recorder and there were no ghost images so tape had not been recorded on before.”
“Is that all you could find?”
“Well I calculated the guy performing the Virgin Martyrs Prevention Protocol on Kathy has an 11 inch cock!”
“Oh” his boss says.
The team leader has the unenviable task of calling IMF headquarters. The Western Hemisphere Commander takes the news relatively calmly asking if the best clue they had was the size of a man’s cock. His director of security looks up from his phone and says “That DVD is wiped cleaner than Hillary’s server. If you want to save Kathy Summers you damn well better trade Moore for her.
“That isn’t going to happen” the commander. “When you make omelets you have to break eggs and when you are at war you have collateral damage. Summers can hang. It isn’t that hard to learn how to do a hanging.”
Midday Saturday, August 16, 2053…
IMF guards come for me. My life is measured in hours now. Crap, how did this get to here?
I am transport in a prisoner transfer van and driven west towards Paris, Arkansas. It comes to a stop and I am ordered out.
I climb out of the van. The cuffs and shackles are removed and my wrists are tied behind my back. I look around and realize I am not in whatever Paris, Arkansas might look like but if this is what Arkansas calls a town I think they would call an outhouse a high rise! I am afraid they are going to take me into the woods and lynch me!
-Barb
She needn’t have worried. A collar with a heavy chain is attached around her neck and she is led west on the shoulder of Arkansas Route 22 with feed trucks whizzing by feet from Barb with the drivers blowing their truck’s horns as they admire either her naked tight little or her swinging breasts depending on which way they are going.
(Original art SJ)
She was dropped off 7 miles east of Paris. As she walks west she passes the hulking abbey high on the hill above Route 22 on Arkansas Route 197. Just over 5 miles later Barb would see the sign saying ‘Welcome to Paris, Arkansas’.
I am met at the ‘city’ limits by Tree. He orders them to take the collar off. He walks me the last half mile. I ask while dreading the answer “Is the IMF going to do the trade?”
“Do you think we’d be walking this way if they had” Tree replies. “I wouldn’t bet on a reprieve, Barb.”
He leads me into Paris past the gallows. They are going to have a fucking festival to mark my hanging! On the other side of the street there are temporary bleachers are being erected. I look up and see the thick noose dangling menacingly from the tall derrick. Chills run through me as I know I will soon hang from it!
-Barb Moore –scared and VERY pissed off!!!
Tree
From the IMF Western Hemisphere Headquarters a crack team of data forensic scientists are dispatched to SNN headquarters to find what they can about the ominous PAWS video they had broadcasted.
The lead member is stunned to find it was sent to the network on a DVD and not even a Blu-Ray disc! It was delivered by a courier who told the local police he was paid $20 in cash by ‘some white guy’ to deliver it to SNN a block away. The only fingerprints on the case or the disc were those of courier and a few SNN employees. Delivered as it was there was no web address to track. The top scientist on the team feverishly works in his portable lab to find what he can on the DVD that might indicate where PAWS is holding Kathy Summers and perhaps save her from being hanged. The team leader says to him over the intercom “Scotty work faster. Time is running out!”
“I’m working as fast as I can but if I push any harder the bi-lithium will overheat and you’ll get nothing!”
A half hour later he emerges from the lab and tells his boss “It isn’t good. From all the metadata all I can tell you for sure is the disc was burned on a low dollar laptop available at any discount store. The original video was shot on a compact VHS recorder and there were no ghost images so tape had not been recorded on before.”
“Is that all you could find?”
“Well I calculated the guy performing the Virgin Martyrs Prevention Protocol on Kathy has an 11 inch cock!”
“Oh” his boss says.
The team leader has the unenviable task of calling IMF headquarters. The Western Hemisphere Commander takes the news relatively calmly asking if the best clue they had was the size of a man’s cock. His director of security looks up from his phone and says “That DVD is wiped cleaner than Hillary’s server. If you want to save Kathy Summers you damn well better trade Moore for her.
“That isn’t going to happen” the commander. “When you make omelets you have to break eggs and when you are at war you have collateral damage. Summers can hang. It isn’t that hard to learn how to do a hanging.”
Midday Saturday, August 16, 2053…
IMF guards come for me. My life is measured in hours now. Crap, how did this get to here?
I am transport in a prisoner transfer van and driven west towards Paris, Arkansas. It comes to a stop and I am ordered out.
I climb out of the van. The cuffs and shackles are removed and my wrists are tied behind my back. I look around and realize I am not in whatever Paris, Arkansas might look like but if this is what Arkansas calls a town I think they would call an outhouse a high rise! I am afraid they are going to take me into the woods and lynch me!
-Barb
She needn’t have worried. A collar with a heavy chain is attached around her neck and she is led west on the shoulder of Arkansas Route 22 with feed trucks whizzing by feet from Barb with the drivers blowing their truck’s horns as they admire either her naked tight little or her swinging breasts depending on which way they are going.
(Original art SJ)She was dropped off 7 miles east of Paris. As she walks west she passes the hulking abbey high on the hill above Route 22 on Arkansas Route 197. Just over 5 miles later Barb would see the sign saying ‘Welcome to Paris, Arkansas’.
I am met at the ‘city’ limits by Tree. He orders them to take the collar off. He walks me the last half mile. I ask while dreading the answer “Is the IMF going to do the trade?”
“Do you think we’d be walking this way if they had” Tree replies. “I wouldn’t bet on a reprieve, Barb.”
He leads me into Paris past the gallows. They are going to have a fucking festival to mark my hanging! On the other side of the street there are temporary bleachers are being erected. I look up and see the thick noose dangling menacingly from the tall derrick. Chills run through me as I know I will soon hang from it!
-Barb Moore –scared and VERY pissed off!!!
Tree
Shit! Who would have ever thought there could be this much traffic in NE Arkansas. Where are they all going? It can't be about me? There must be something else going on, like a solar eclipse or something. The locals are even selling parking spaces in the hay fields!
OOOPS ... now I know! They have turned my hanging into a friggin carnival. And that is one mean looking scaffold and hanging noose. Tree had better prepare me for this because I feel chills running through me knowing I will hang from it!
I knew from the time I was ‘arrested’ by the sheriff that my odds of living through this were at best ‘slim’ but as how this has unfolded ‘none’ was the better bet.
(See page one, post nine)
Tree brings me to the cellar of Paris Chamber of Commerce and Museum. He unties my wrists and as I rub the chaffed skin I ask “Must you stare at my tight little?”
“I’m not looking at your fine ass” he replies. “Why would you ask that?”
He may be my executioner and complete Neanderthal but he has some endearing qualities that I just can’t bring to mind right now. I don’t want to hear any crap about ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ or anything like that. He is a strangely nice guy. Who else would ask if I was OK if he hangs me?
FUCK, I am making excuses for the guy that is going to hang me! Don’t criticize me! I’m going to be hanged soon. Even in the stonewalled cellar I can hear some really bad cover band playing ZZ Top’s “Legs” and the damn rednecks cheer their crappy rendition of the song.
I ask if he found any Madame Wu’s. He tells me he has as he asked Ulrika to bring some. I light one and say to Tree “Don’t you dare think there is anything between you and me.”
“It never crossed my mind” he lies. “I thought I had you off the hook in court. I guess me hanging you ain’t going to get me any kudos for saving your ass from the cross.”
DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!!! Yes I don’t want to be crucified before these assholes but there is no way I should have feel grateful I am going to be hanged and dead before midnight. We talk for much of the afternoon about anything but tonight. Around five I ask to be left alone. Tree tells me he will be back at nine and leaves with a few packs of Madame Wu’s and a magnum of Arkansas red wine. It is surprisingly good and I would buy some… if I were around after tonight.
Thoughts race through my head. Some are logical and others are not. I know I am not going to get a reprieve yet I picture in Little Rock the governor picks up the phone and commutes my sentence to five years hard labor on a chain gang. Do they even have chain gangs in Arkansas in 2053?
Is Tree going to put a hood over my head? Will I bravery bitch that I don’t want one if he does? Will I demand one if he doesn’t?
I am not much of a smoker but the Madame Wu cigarette butts are beginning to fill the empty fifth of Seagram’s Tree left behind. I contemplate breaking the bottle and slitting my wrists but my thoughts wander back to that call from the governor that I know isn’t coming. I wonder how long it takes to bleed out. Would I even do it right? I scratch the idea; if they want me dead they are going to have to do it!
Time drags yet goes by way too fast. Every minute that passes is another minute closer to being hanged. Will it hurt? How long will it to die? Should I ask Tree or just find out when it happens? The door opens and Tree walks in. I ask “Is it time already?”
“Soon” he says. “Get up and turn around.”
I grab the wine bottle and kill off the last of the 1.5 liters. I figure if I am lucky I’ll puke and choke on it when I hang and get it over quickly. I toss the empty bottle on the cot. As Tree ties my wrists behind my back I say “Tell me the truth; did you give me up after we…?”
“I would never do that” Tree says with a touch of anger in his voice.
I grunt as he cinches the knot tight and say “Damn Tree does it have be so tight? I’m sorry I asked. I just had to know. Are there a lot of people out there?”
“I’m told it is sold out” he says adding “and RR Entertainment may have set a record for cameras covering it.”
There is a huge cheer as I step out onto the gallows. I don’t think it is Tree they are glad to see. I am nearly blinded by the spotlights and I halfway to the noose before I can see it. When I do my knees buckle. Tree grabs and steadies me.
He asks me if I am ok. I lie and tell him it is the wine. The blazing lights feel like they are toasting my body. I can barely see the crowd below the gallows.
Each step brings me closer to rope.
-Barb Moore –not long for this earth…
Tree
(See page one, post nine)
Tree brings me to the cellar of Paris Chamber of Commerce and Museum. He unties my wrists and as I rub the chaffed skin I ask “Must you stare at my tight little?”
“I’m not looking at your fine ass” he replies. “Why would you ask that?”
He may be my executioner and complete Neanderthal but he has some endearing qualities that I just can’t bring to mind right now. I don’t want to hear any crap about ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ or anything like that. He is a strangely nice guy. Who else would ask if I was OK if he hangs me?
FUCK, I am making excuses for the guy that is going to hang me! Don’t criticize me! I’m going to be hanged soon. Even in the stonewalled cellar I can hear some really bad cover band playing ZZ Top’s “Legs” and the damn rednecks cheer their crappy rendition of the song.
I ask if he found any Madame Wu’s. He tells me he has as he asked Ulrika to bring some. I light one and say to Tree “Don’t you dare think there is anything between you and me.”
“It never crossed my mind” he lies. “I thought I had you off the hook in court. I guess me hanging you ain’t going to get me any kudos for saving your ass from the cross.”
DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!!! Yes I don’t want to be crucified before these assholes but there is no way I should have feel grateful I am going to be hanged and dead before midnight. We talk for much of the afternoon about anything but tonight. Around five I ask to be left alone. Tree tells me he will be back at nine and leaves with a few packs of Madame Wu’s and a magnum of Arkansas red wine. It is surprisingly good and I would buy some… if I were around after tonight.
Thoughts race through my head. Some are logical and others are not. I know I am not going to get a reprieve yet I picture in Little Rock the governor picks up the phone and commutes my sentence to five years hard labor on a chain gang. Do they even have chain gangs in Arkansas in 2053?
Is Tree going to put a hood over my head? Will I bravery bitch that I don’t want one if he does? Will I demand one if he doesn’t?
I am not much of a smoker but the Madame Wu cigarette butts are beginning to fill the empty fifth of Seagram’s Tree left behind. I contemplate breaking the bottle and slitting my wrists but my thoughts wander back to that call from the governor that I know isn’t coming. I wonder how long it takes to bleed out. Would I even do it right? I scratch the idea; if they want me dead they are going to have to do it!
Time drags yet goes by way too fast. Every minute that passes is another minute closer to being hanged. Will it hurt? How long will it to die? Should I ask Tree or just find out when it happens? The door opens and Tree walks in. I ask “Is it time already?”
“Soon” he says. “Get up and turn around.”
I grab the wine bottle and kill off the last of the 1.5 liters. I figure if I am lucky I’ll puke and choke on it when I hang and get it over quickly. I toss the empty bottle on the cot. As Tree ties my wrists behind my back I say “Tell me the truth; did you give me up after we…?”
“I would never do that” Tree says with a touch of anger in his voice.
I grunt as he cinches the knot tight and say “Damn Tree does it have be so tight? I’m sorry I asked. I just had to know. Are there a lot of people out there?”
“I’m told it is sold out” he says adding “and RR Entertainment may have set a record for cameras covering it.”
There is a huge cheer as I step out onto the gallows. I don’t think it is Tree they are glad to see. I am nearly blinded by the spotlights and I halfway to the noose before I can see it. When I do my knees buckle. Tree grabs and steadies me.
He asks me if I am ok. I lie and tell him it is the wine. The blazing lights feel like they are toasting my body. I can barely see the crowd below the gallows.
Each step brings me closer to rope.
-Barb Moore –not long for this earth…
Tree
He may be my executioner and complete Neanderthal but he has some endearing qualities that I just can’t bring to mind right now.This episode is about as good an exploration of a condemned girl's confusion, fears, rationalizations, desperation, and false bravado as can be written. Tree has done a great job of getting into my mind as I contemplate my imminent date with the noose.
It also explores once again that complicated on-again, off-again, love-hate relationship evolving between myself and my favorite 
So confused. So humiliated. So blinded by tears and bright lights! Is this really happening to me? Will I piss myself? What possessed me to drink all that Arkansas red wine? So scared !!!!
Oh shit!
Beautiful, Barb...
I've busy but back to work...
The backside of the gallows has a huge curtain hung behind Barb. Whoever picked the color of curtain has a good eye. It really makes the doomed Barbara’s naked body ‘pop’ on the television!
I am at the noose and Tree wastes no time slipping over my head and around my neck. He slides the knot down the rope then lifts it until it sets under my jaw before letting go of it. The noose drops back down to my shoulders with the rough hemp tickling my skin as it slides down my neck. He doesn’t tell me but I know he was checking if it is tight enough so my head can’t slip out of it. I whisper “I am going to strangle to death, aren’t I?”
“Yes, Barb”
“May I have a last Madame Wu?”
“No” he says as he backs away from me to take his position by the lever. There are armed uniformed IMF guards slightly behind me and to my left and right. They are hardly needed as with the rope around my neck I have nowhere to go but up! Besides probably half the fucking Arkansas rednecks are packing guns and all of them want to watch me hang.
I look up the thick rope that forms the noose. Only a couple yards above me the rope is attached to a wire rope that looks like the cables used on 4x4s’ winches. I can’t hope on anything failing.
The heavy rope drapes around my neck and rests on my collar bones and shoulders. It is one thing to be condemned to death by hanging and another thing to be standing on the gallows’ deck with a rope around my neck, wrists bound behind my tight little, and a thousand or so drunk assholes yelling to get on with the ‘show’ while I fidget naked before them. I almost jump when over the public address system a voice booms “before we get on with this evenings main event ladies and gentleman please rise and remove you hats for the signing of the national anthem!”
“Aw fuck that shit, Jethro; just hang the bitch” someone beyond the lights yells.
Over the PA I hear the announcer scold “Bobby Roy, shut the fuck up or we’ll hang you wife instead of this Yankee!”
Someone else yells back “We don’t want to his fat sister hang. I’ll take care of this!”
‘Before we get to the main event’; it’s not an event you bastards! It’s my execution!
I hear what sounds like a baseball bat smashing a watermelon. I don’t know what happened (I can’t see past the lights) but I wouldn’t hear from ‘Bobby Roy’ again. Somehow these dicks get through the anthem getting most of the words right. When they get to line about ‘the bombs bursting in air’, instead of shooting off fireworks I hear a thunderous volley of gunshots fired from the crowd in shadows beyond the gallows. I cower as much as I can but there is a rope around my neck!
With any luck maybe they shot each other. It only gets worse. After the anthem the ‘master of ceremonies’ announces “Please remain standing and welcome the Reverend Lynch of the Church of the Gooey Death and Discount House of Worship for the invocation.”
What the hell kind of church is that I wonder. He walks out on the gallows’ deck and instead of holding a cross he holds up a smaller version of the noose that is around my neck.
He blusterously booms “Let us pray! Heavenly father, before us stands the wench Barbara Moore condemned to death for crimes against the Imperial Moral Authority. We will send her to you as she came into this world some three decades ago. It is not up to us to judge her eternal soul but let us pray she suffers eternal damnation and the fires of hell.”
As he goes on with his rant I turn to Tree and ask “Could you please just hang me now?”
The preacher finishes with “May the noose deliver her a slow and agonizing death. Amen!”
Some people answered with their ‘amen’ but one drunk redneck salutes with a bottle of homebrewed ‘white lighting’ and yells “I’ll fucking drink to that!”
Of course he could not until all the pomp is done. After the asshole preacher finishes some official steps up next to me and reads the charges that I have been found guilty and as he announces I will be hanged by the neck until dead a huge cheer erupts from the crowd. The IMF goon switches off the microphone, gropes my tight little, and says to me “I just about as excited to see you dance with the noose as they are!”
I ask Tree how far is the ‘top of the hour’ and he tells me a bit less than 10 minutes. My mind blanks out the lewd crowd.
What is this going to feel like? Does it really take a while to lose consciousness? Will I panic and give them the dance they want? Will I be able to control my body? Why I didn’t listen to Tree and pee in the cell before he brought me out? I breathe deep yet quickly. Any movement I make the coarse rope scratches at my flesh. I watch Tree reach for the lever then look straight ahead as I am about to be snatched from the gallows’ deck by my neck.
I hear the lever squeak. I shriek as it slams against its stop. Oh my god I am…
…I am not hanged!!!
I look over at Tree with both relief and anger and hiss “If this is your idea of joke I hardly find it funny!”
“It’s not a joke as you will see all too soon” Tree replies.
You may remember a few posts back at one end of the rope and cable is Barb with a noose around her neck. At the other end a 30 gallon trash can dangles out of sight behind the curtain. The lever Tree pulled at 9:54:30 PM ever opens a ball valve that begins the flow of water at a rate of one gallon every 24 seconds. With a mechanical drag on the cable it will take a gallon of water before the can starts its trek down to hoist Barb up.
Nothing is happening! I hear water splashing into something behind me. Damn it if I had to piss before that sound isn’t helping the situation any! Did I move or is the rope moving? Damn the noose’s coiled knot lifts off my spine and slowly the rope around my neck starts creeping up my neck!
It won’t be long before the noose is under my jaw!
Shit the noose starts to tug on my neck. This is so fucked! I am about to be hoisted up by my head with the weight my body used to crush my throat with the noose! The noose is tight under my jaw. I have to rise onto the balls of my feet. It is no good! I feel the tips of my toes drag across the deck. Tree’s deck suddenly seems more hospitable. My feet leave the gallows. Shit, I am hanged!
Barb Moore –hanging from the end of my rope
As she is raised off the deck she squawks “Damn this ain’t good.”
She’s right…
Tree
The backside of the gallows has a huge curtain hung behind Barb. Whoever picked the color of curtain has a good eye. It really makes the doomed Barbara’s naked body ‘pop’ on the television!
I am at the noose and Tree wastes no time slipping over my head and around my neck. He slides the knot down the rope then lifts it until it sets under my jaw before letting go of it. The noose drops back down to my shoulders with the rough hemp tickling my skin as it slides down my neck. He doesn’t tell me but I know he was checking if it is tight enough so my head can’t slip out of it. I whisper “I am going to strangle to death, aren’t I?”
“Yes, Barb”
“May I have a last Madame Wu?”
“No” he says as he backs away from me to take his position by the lever. There are armed uniformed IMF guards slightly behind me and to my left and right. They are hardly needed as with the rope around my neck I have nowhere to go but up! Besides probably half the fucking Arkansas rednecks are packing guns and all of them want to watch me hang.
I look up the thick rope that forms the noose. Only a couple yards above me the rope is attached to a wire rope that looks like the cables used on 4x4s’ winches. I can’t hope on anything failing.
The heavy rope drapes around my neck and rests on my collar bones and shoulders. It is one thing to be condemned to death by hanging and another thing to be standing on the gallows’ deck with a rope around my neck, wrists bound behind my tight little, and a thousand or so drunk assholes yelling to get on with the ‘show’ while I fidget naked before them. I almost jump when over the public address system a voice booms “before we get on with this evenings main event ladies and gentleman please rise and remove you hats for the signing of the national anthem!”
“Aw fuck that shit, Jethro; just hang the bitch” someone beyond the lights yells.
Over the PA I hear the announcer scold “Bobby Roy, shut the fuck up or we’ll hang you wife instead of this Yankee!”
Someone else yells back “We don’t want to his fat sister hang. I’ll take care of this!”
‘Before we get to the main event’; it’s not an event you bastards! It’s my execution!
I hear what sounds like a baseball bat smashing a watermelon. I don’t know what happened (I can’t see past the lights) but I wouldn’t hear from ‘Bobby Roy’ again. Somehow these dicks get through the anthem getting most of the words right. When they get to line about ‘the bombs bursting in air’, instead of shooting off fireworks I hear a thunderous volley of gunshots fired from the crowd in shadows beyond the gallows. I cower as much as I can but there is a rope around my neck!
With any luck maybe they shot each other. It only gets worse. After the anthem the ‘master of ceremonies’ announces “Please remain standing and welcome the Reverend Lynch of the Church of the Gooey Death and Discount House of Worship for the invocation.”
What the hell kind of church is that I wonder. He walks out on the gallows’ deck and instead of holding a cross he holds up a smaller version of the noose that is around my neck.
He blusterously booms “Let us pray! Heavenly father, before us stands the wench Barbara Moore condemned to death for crimes against the Imperial Moral Authority. We will send her to you as she came into this world some three decades ago. It is not up to us to judge her eternal soul but let us pray she suffers eternal damnation and the fires of hell.”
As he goes on with his rant I turn to Tree and ask “Could you please just hang me now?”
The preacher finishes with “May the noose deliver her a slow and agonizing death. Amen!”
Some people answered with their ‘amen’ but one drunk redneck salutes with a bottle of homebrewed ‘white lighting’ and yells “I’ll fucking drink to that!”
Of course he could not until all the pomp is done. After the asshole preacher finishes some official steps up next to me and reads the charges that I have been found guilty and as he announces I will be hanged by the neck until dead a huge cheer erupts from the crowd. The IMF goon switches off the microphone, gropes my tight little, and says to me “I just about as excited to see you dance with the noose as they are!”
I ask Tree how far is the ‘top of the hour’ and he tells me a bit less than 10 minutes. My mind blanks out the lewd crowd.
What is this going to feel like? Does it really take a while to lose consciousness? Will I panic and give them the dance they want? Will I be able to control my body? Why I didn’t listen to Tree and pee in the cell before he brought me out? I breathe deep yet quickly. Any movement I make the coarse rope scratches at my flesh. I watch Tree reach for the lever then look straight ahead as I am about to be snatched from the gallows’ deck by my neck.
I hear the lever squeak. I shriek as it slams against its stop. Oh my god I am…
…I am not hanged!!!
I look over at Tree with both relief and anger and hiss “If this is your idea of joke I hardly find it funny!”
“It’s not a joke as you will see all too soon” Tree replies.
You may remember a few posts back at one end of the rope and cable is Barb with a noose around her neck. At the other end a 30 gallon trash can dangles out of sight behind the curtain. The lever Tree pulled at 9:54:30 PM ever opens a ball valve that begins the flow of water at a rate of one gallon every 24 seconds. With a mechanical drag on the cable it will take a gallon of water before the can starts its trek down to hoist Barb up.
Nothing is happening! I hear water splashing into something behind me. Damn it if I had to piss before that sound isn’t helping the situation any! Did I move or is the rope moving? Damn the noose’s coiled knot lifts off my spine and slowly the rope around my neck starts creeping up my neck!
It won’t be long before the noose is under my jaw!
Shit the noose starts to tug on my neck. This is so fucked! I am about to be hoisted up by my head with the weight my body used to crush my throat with the noose! The noose is tight under my jaw. I have to rise onto the balls of my feet. It is no good! I feel the tips of my toes drag across the deck. Tree’s deck suddenly seems more hospitable. My feet leave the gallows. Shit, I am hanged!
Barb Moore –hanging from the end of my rope
As she is raised off the deck she squawks “Damn this ain’t good.”
She’s right…
Tree
I loved the many clever details that went into this disgusting ridiculous stupid entertaining account of my hanging. It's the best hanging story yet to come out of Tree's fevered head.
Great dialogue, great humor (I lovedvthe bit abiut the rednecks and the national anthem, and the Reverend Lynch's sermon. But best of all was the Rube Goldberg system for hanging me.
This was great fun for everyone but me, I am sure. But my toes can no longer touch the deck, things are getting black, the hemp noose is biting into my neck. This is not going well at all.
Isn't there a third ending to the story? Perhaps I ought to try that one out? It can't be any worse than oiiiickkkkkk!
Great dialogue, great humor (I lovedvthe bit abiut the rednecks and the national anthem, and the Reverend Lynch's sermon. But best of all was the Rube Goldberg system for hanging me.
This was great fun for everyone but me, I am sure. But my toes can no longer touch the deck, things are getting black, the hemp noose is biting into my neck. This is not going well at all.
Isn't there a third ending to the story? Perhaps I ought to try that one out? It can't be any worse than oiiiickkkkkk!
Thank you Barb. I was trying to convey the juxtaposition between the very unsympathetic crowd and your 'situation'. there is one more part to Ending Two before we get to Ending Three which is the most horrific and diabolic act I have ever come up with!!!