I was thinking the same thing.I expect Stan to do something like this
Looking good there Stan
Effective, if a bit lacking in finesse.
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The Bronx Crux Murders
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
Effective, if a bit lacking in finesse.
windar
Teller of Tales
I say they all did it. Cultured accent and religious morality? Everyone is guilty.
Blaming society, are we? Save that for the defense's closing argument, Councillor
Nice suit, by the way...
I personally thought it looked like a squirrel perched up there for a better view.
Captured my expression perfectly.Blaming society, are we? Save that for the defense's closing argument, Councillor
Nice suit, by the way...
And thanks, about the suit. I'm interviewing at WKRP later today. 
I've had nothing to do with whatever is going on so I ain't guilty of anything!!!I say they all did it. Cultured accent and religious morality? Everyone is guilty.
Do you now, or have you ever owned a balaclava? Confess!
Goldman needs to stick some bamboo cuttings under the fingernails of that professor. We'll see who's innocent then.
Would they crucify Barb while the professor is in his office?
Fuck no, I've never owned a balaclava. I'm not a 'liberal' protester and I smoke and those things are flammable...Do you now, or have you ever owned a balaclava? Confess!
Goldman needs to stick some bamboo cuttings under the fingernails of that professor. We'll see who's innocent then.
Would they crucify Barb while the professor is in his office?
Will you focus on what is happening to Barb?!?!?!
YOU THINK IT'S TIME TO SPRING INTO ACTION, YOU MEAN?
I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS TIME. PEOPLE KEEP TALKING ABOUT RESCUING HER.
If not us, who?YOU THINK IT'S TIME TO SPRING INTO ACTION, YOU MEAN?
View attachment 504092
I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS TIME. PEOPLE KEEP TALKING ABOUT RESCUING HER.
If not now, when?
Tree is not big on 'rescue by committee'...
"My great nephew always believed in wading in where drunk fools refused to go" said WC Tree...
YOU THINK IT'S TIME TO SPRING INTO ACTION, YOU MEAN?
View attachment 504092
I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS TIME. PEOPLE KEEP TALKING ABOUT RESCUING HER.
Wow! That's impressive!
Dorothy Brown
Brown Sugar
Water ClosetView attachment 504095 And what does that "WC" in the Tree family line stand for?
Dorothy Brown
Brown Sugar
what is happening to Barb?!?!?!
She`s In Bed With Me.
She`s In Bed With Me.
22.
As per my police academy training, I was trying to make mental notes of my surroundings when Jake's large form loomed over me. I looked up at his ugly face with wide open eyes. Without warning, his good hand shot out and ripped the duct tape from my mouth. I screamed and sputtered, then began shouting for help at the top of my lungs. Jake stifled that by clamping his big paw over my mouth.
"Welcome, Detective Moore," said that smooth cultured voice I had heard earlier from the other side of the partition. I turned my head to peer under Jake's haunches as he crouched over me. All I could see was the togas and shoe soles of the two men at the altar, both of whom were still kneeling before it with their backs turned to me.
"We meet again, Detective Moore," he continued. "Kindly refrain from yelling for help, dear, absolutely no one can hear you."
I knew then ... that voice ... I had heard it before ... it belonged to Professor Donnelly!
"Get Detective Moore on her knees in front of the altar, would you please, Jake?" ordered Donnelly. "It's time we get on with trying, condemning and sentencing her. Father Gerhart and I will be finished here and ready to begin shortly."
The chanting continued. Jake grabbed a handful of my hair and began pulling me into an upright position. I made a half-hearted attempt to struggle, but gave it up quickly. There was little point, and besides I was in a state of total shock to find out that Donnelly and Gerhart were behind this whole sordid affair!
Dragged over to behind where the two men were kneeling, I was forced to my knees, leaning forward slightly, hands still bound tightly behind my back. The grit on the floor dug painfully into my knees and ankles. Able to view the painted altar partition more clearly now, I was stunned to see, in addition to the large SPQR overhead, several neatly printed inscriptions. The two on the left read:
Woman is a temple built over a sewer.–Tertullian, “the father of Latin Christianity” (c. 160-225)
As regards the individual nature, woman is defective and misbegotten, for the active force in the male seed tends to the production of a perfect likeness in the masculine sex; while the production of woman comes from a defect in the active force or from some material indisposition, or even from some external influence. –Thomas Aquinas, Doctor of the Church, 13th century
The one on the right, continued on in the same vein:
Woman is a misbegotten man and has a faulty and defective nature in comparison to his. Therefore she is unsure in herself. What she cannot get, she seeks to obtain through lying and diabolical deceptions. And so, to put it briefly, one must be on one's guard with every woman, as if she were a poisonous snake and the horned devil. ... Thus in evil and perverse doings woman is cleverer, that is, slyer, than man. Her feelings drive woman toward every evil, just as reason impels man toward all good. –Saint Albertus Magnus, Dominican theologian, 13th century
"Oh Shit!" I muttered.
"Watch your mouth, Detective Moore!" snapped Father Gerhart without turning around.
Jake gave me a good sharp cuff on the back of the head, for good measure. He nearly knocked me over and while I was struggling to recover my balance, Donnelly and Gerhart rose and turned to face me.
"Wait a minute! Who is that? How did he get in here?" blurted Donnelly, pointing a bony finger over my shoulder at someone behind me ... a look of consternation on his face.
The thought of rescue raced through my head!
"Oh that's my cousin Ernie. We call him Tiny though, 'cause he's so big," responded Jake, quickly adding, "I called him on my cell about an hour ago and told him to get over here and lend a hand ... the lady detective having done in my good arm and all."
"You blithering idiot! You're not supposed to tell anyone about this! That was our agreement! What were you thinking!" admonished Donnelly heatedly.
"Sorry boss, I ......."
I was disappointed, to say the least, to learn that it wasn't Goldman and the NYPD, but I craned my neck around to see what Tiny looked like. He turned out to be a carbon copy of Jake, except he almost made Jake look like a normal-sized human being. Nothing about the lout's facial expression suggested anything remotely resembling intelligence.
"Alright, alright. He's here. We'll make the best of it. Do you think Tiny can operate the video camera?"
"Sure boss, Tiny can do that, can't you Tiny?"
The giant brightened up and nodded happily.
"Alright. Time is wasting. Let's get on with the trial of Detective Moore. Father would you care to read the charges, please?"
Father Gerhart stepped forward, stopping a few feet from where I knelt. He crossed himself, and pulled a document from under his toga. Jake tugged behind my back on my bound wrists, forcing me to lean well forward, assuming a subservient posture, eyes on the polished toes of Gerhart's shoes.
With camera in hand, Tiny began circling around, recording the scene from different angles
"You got it backwards dopey" I taunted. "The lens is supposed to point towards me!"
The dumb lout stopped dead and began to turn the camera round and round in his big paws, examining it with a perplexed look on his face.
"Jake! Get the duct tape!" bellowed Donnelly, his face crimson with anger. "We'll have no more outbursts from Detective Moore!"
Letting go of my wrists momentarily, Jake returned with the duct tape. My mouth sealed, Father Gerhart crossed himself again and adopting an officious tone, began speaking.
"I call to order this august Tribunal of the The Secret Order of Latter Day Roman Gladiators for the purpose of completing the third and ultimate phase of our divinely inspired public program to expose and repudiate the appalling decay of moral order in our society. And why do we do so in three actions, one may ask? It is because of the symbolic power of the number 'three' ... the trinity ... that forms the bedrock of our faith and moral compass. We also do so through the revival of the ancient practice of crucifixion, which like no other form of punishment has the capacity to fix the eyes of the world on the salience and immediacy of our message. We strike boldly against the three sources of decline that threaten to destroy our civilization. First the decadence of today's youth ... hence the crucifixion of young Jessica Chalmers, whose immoral coupling with her boyfriend and whose indulgence in mind- and faith-altering drugs so aptly typify the threat that we, the world's righteous and chosen, must face every single day. Second, the crucifixion of a young Chinese woman to symbolize the ever present and growing threat of the Godless East. And finally, today and most importantly, the crucifixion of NYPD detective, Barbara Moore ... an educated, ambitious and morally bankrupt professional woman ... the modern-day Eve who dares to challenge and sully the rightful place of Adam in the God-given natural order of things."
He paused to catch his breath. Stunned, I thought what a load of crap! That speech was the biggest piece of insane claptrap I have ever heard, and I would have laughed my head off ... if it weren't for the fact that I was kneeling in front of this clown of the cloth, bound and half naked, with a big wooden cross lying on the floor not thirty feet away!
Father Gerhart stepped back, to be replaced by Professor Donnelly, who placed his hand solemnly on my brow and intoned in his smooth voice, "By the power invested in me as Supreme Deacon of the The Secret Order of Latter Day Roman Gladiators, I hereby sentence you, Barbara Moore, to the degradation and horror of a slow death by crucifixion! Jake, prepare the condemned for her ordeal!"
"Yessir!" barked Jake, as he hauled me to my feet. I tried to protest, but all that came out from beneath the duct tape were muffled noises.
Rain began to patter against the skylight overhead. I looked up. The sky had darkened. A flash of lighting brightly illuminated the room, followed quickly by a clap of thunder.
"The heavens approve!" shouted Donnelly, a look of absolute rapture on his face.
"Remove her bonds, the duct tape, and the last of her skimpy slutty clothing," instructed Father Gerhart, who was relieving Tiny of the video camera so that the giant could go to the assistance of his one-armed cousin.
I yelped as the duct tape was ripped away.
Tiny's eager hands gripped me under the armpits, lifting and straightening me up while Jake tugged at the cords that bound my wrists and feet.
As soon as my wrists were freed, I began rubbing them vigorously, eyeing Father Gerhart who had busied himself panning the video camera up and down my body. He paused the recording long enough to tuck the camera under his arm and reach down to slide my black kinis over my hips and down as far as my knees. Then he resumed recording, lingering long over my exposed pubendum.
Meanwhile, after fumbling about, Jake finally pulled the cord away from my ankles. My kinis slowly slipped the rest of the way down to my feet. Sullenly I stepped out of them, one foot at a time. With a withering look of contempt and defiance, I kicked them away.
"You can't do this! You are nothing but a bunch of perverts! I'm sure the NYPD is out in force by now looking for me. They'll be here anytime now!" I exclaimed, as my mind flashed incongruously to an image of Goldman, still lying naked bound to that bed. The outburst earned me another smack to the side of the head.
"The condemned will carry her cross to the place of her execution! See to it! And don't spare the whip!" ordered Professor Donnelly, arm outstretched and bony finger pointing at the waiting cross.
I was spun around, and swiftly marched over to the cross, where I was forced to kneel and lean forward. Tiny lifted the heavy wooden T-cross as effortlessly as if it was made of cardboard and laid it against my back so that the crossbeam rested against my shoulders. Father Gerhart and Professor Donnelly were positioned to seize and stretch my arms out along it's length and hold them firmly in place while Tiny bound each of my wrists to the beam with lengths of cord. I winced as he pulled each of the the knots tight.
"On your feet, Moore, and bear your cross!" purred Gerhart who now held a long braided whip in his right hand while still panning the video cam with his left over my straining naked figure.
"Where?" I asked, struggling to my feet. The cross was frigging heavy!
"Over there, at the far end of the factory! Now move!" he growled as he placed emphasis to the command with a quick slash of the whip across the tips of my dangling breasts.
As per my police academy training, I was trying to make mental notes of my surroundings when Jake's large form loomed over me. I looked up at his ugly face with wide open eyes. Without warning, his good hand shot out and ripped the duct tape from my mouth. I screamed and sputtered, then began shouting for help at the top of my lungs. Jake stifled that by clamping his big paw over my mouth.
"Welcome, Detective Moore," said that smooth cultured voice I had heard earlier from the other side of the partition. I turned my head to peer under Jake's haunches as he crouched over me. All I could see was the togas and shoe soles of the two men at the altar, both of whom were still kneeling before it with their backs turned to me.
"We meet again, Detective Moore," he continued. "Kindly refrain from yelling for help, dear, absolutely no one can hear you."
I knew then ... that voice ... I had heard it before ... it belonged to Professor Donnelly!
"Get Detective Moore on her knees in front of the altar, would you please, Jake?" ordered Donnelly. "It's time we get on with trying, condemning and sentencing her. Father Gerhart and I will be finished here and ready to begin shortly."
The chanting continued. Jake grabbed a handful of my hair and began pulling me into an upright position. I made a half-hearted attempt to struggle, but gave it up quickly. There was little point, and besides I was in a state of total shock to find out that Donnelly and Gerhart were behind this whole sordid affair!
Dragged over to behind where the two men were kneeling, I was forced to my knees, leaning forward slightly, hands still bound tightly behind my back. The grit on the floor dug painfully into my knees and ankles. Able to view the painted altar partition more clearly now, I was stunned to see, in addition to the large SPQR overhead, several neatly printed inscriptions. The two on the left read:
Woman is a temple built over a sewer.–Tertullian, “the father of Latin Christianity” (c. 160-225)
As regards the individual nature, woman is defective and misbegotten, for the active force in the male seed tends to the production of a perfect likeness in the masculine sex; while the production of woman comes from a defect in the active force or from some material indisposition, or even from some external influence. –Thomas Aquinas, Doctor of the Church, 13th century
The one on the right, continued on in the same vein:
Woman is a misbegotten man and has a faulty and defective nature in comparison to his. Therefore she is unsure in herself. What she cannot get, she seeks to obtain through lying and diabolical deceptions. And so, to put it briefly, one must be on one's guard with every woman, as if she were a poisonous snake and the horned devil. ... Thus in evil and perverse doings woman is cleverer, that is, slyer, than man. Her feelings drive woman toward every evil, just as reason impels man toward all good. –Saint Albertus Magnus, Dominican theologian, 13th century
"Oh Shit!" I muttered.
"Watch your mouth, Detective Moore!" snapped Father Gerhart without turning around.
Jake gave me a good sharp cuff on the back of the head, for good measure. He nearly knocked me over and while I was struggling to recover my balance, Donnelly and Gerhart rose and turned to face me.
"Wait a minute! Who is that? How did he get in here?" blurted Donnelly, pointing a bony finger over my shoulder at someone behind me ... a look of consternation on his face.
The thought of rescue raced through my head!
"Oh that's my cousin Ernie. We call him Tiny though, 'cause he's so big," responded Jake, quickly adding, "I called him on my cell about an hour ago and told him to get over here and lend a hand ... the lady detective having done in my good arm and all."
"You blithering idiot! You're not supposed to tell anyone about this! That was our agreement! What were you thinking!" admonished Donnelly heatedly.
"Sorry boss, I ......."
I was disappointed, to say the least, to learn that it wasn't Goldman and the NYPD, but I craned my neck around to see what Tiny looked like. He turned out to be a carbon copy of Jake, except he almost made Jake look like a normal-sized human being. Nothing about the lout's facial expression suggested anything remotely resembling intelligence.
"Alright, alright. He's here. We'll make the best of it. Do you think Tiny can operate the video camera?"
"Sure boss, Tiny can do that, can't you Tiny?"
The giant brightened up and nodded happily.
"Alright. Time is wasting. Let's get on with the trial of Detective Moore. Father would you care to read the charges, please?"
Father Gerhart stepped forward, stopping a few feet from where I knelt. He crossed himself, and pulled a document from under his toga. Jake tugged behind my back on my bound wrists, forcing me to lean well forward, assuming a subservient posture, eyes on the polished toes of Gerhart's shoes.
With camera in hand, Tiny began circling around, recording the scene from different angles
"You got it backwards dopey" I taunted. "The lens is supposed to point towards me!"
The dumb lout stopped dead and began to turn the camera round and round in his big paws, examining it with a perplexed look on his face.
"Jake! Get the duct tape!" bellowed Donnelly, his face crimson with anger. "We'll have no more outbursts from Detective Moore!"
Letting go of my wrists momentarily, Jake returned with the duct tape. My mouth sealed, Father Gerhart crossed himself again and adopting an officious tone, began speaking.
"I call to order this august Tribunal of the The Secret Order of Latter Day Roman Gladiators for the purpose of completing the third and ultimate phase of our divinely inspired public program to expose and repudiate the appalling decay of moral order in our society. And why do we do so in three actions, one may ask? It is because of the symbolic power of the number 'three' ... the trinity ... that forms the bedrock of our faith and moral compass. We also do so through the revival of the ancient practice of crucifixion, which like no other form of punishment has the capacity to fix the eyes of the world on the salience and immediacy of our message. We strike boldly against the three sources of decline that threaten to destroy our civilization. First the decadence of today's youth ... hence the crucifixion of young Jessica Chalmers, whose immoral coupling with her boyfriend and whose indulgence in mind- and faith-altering drugs so aptly typify the threat that we, the world's righteous and chosen, must face every single day. Second, the crucifixion of a young Chinese woman to symbolize the ever present and growing threat of the Godless East. And finally, today and most importantly, the crucifixion of NYPD detective, Barbara Moore ... an educated, ambitious and morally bankrupt professional woman ... the modern-day Eve who dares to challenge and sully the rightful place of Adam in the God-given natural order of things."
He paused to catch his breath. Stunned, I thought what a load of crap! That speech was the biggest piece of insane claptrap I have ever heard, and I would have laughed my head off ... if it weren't for the fact that I was kneeling in front of this clown of the cloth, bound and half naked, with a big wooden cross lying on the floor not thirty feet away!
Father Gerhart stepped back, to be replaced by Professor Donnelly, who placed his hand solemnly on my brow and intoned in his smooth voice, "By the power invested in me as Supreme Deacon of the The Secret Order of Latter Day Roman Gladiators, I hereby sentence you, Barbara Moore, to the degradation and horror of a slow death by crucifixion! Jake, prepare the condemned for her ordeal!"
"Yessir!" barked Jake, as he hauled me to my feet. I tried to protest, but all that came out from beneath the duct tape were muffled noises.
Rain began to patter against the skylight overhead. I looked up. The sky had darkened. A flash of lighting brightly illuminated the room, followed quickly by a clap of thunder.
"The heavens approve!" shouted Donnelly, a look of absolute rapture on his face.
"Remove her bonds, the duct tape, and the last of her skimpy slutty clothing," instructed Father Gerhart, who was relieving Tiny of the video camera so that the giant could go to the assistance of his one-armed cousin.
I yelped as the duct tape was ripped away.
Tiny's eager hands gripped me under the armpits, lifting and straightening me up while Jake tugged at the cords that bound my wrists and feet.
As soon as my wrists were freed, I began rubbing them vigorously, eyeing Father Gerhart who had busied himself panning the video camera up and down my body. He paused the recording long enough to tuck the camera under his arm and reach down to slide my black kinis over my hips and down as far as my knees. Then he resumed recording, lingering long over my exposed pubendum.
Meanwhile, after fumbling about, Jake finally pulled the cord away from my ankles. My kinis slowly slipped the rest of the way down to my feet. Sullenly I stepped out of them, one foot at a time. With a withering look of contempt and defiance, I kicked them away.
"You can't do this! You are nothing but a bunch of perverts! I'm sure the NYPD is out in force by now looking for me. They'll be here anytime now!" I exclaimed, as my mind flashed incongruously to an image of Goldman, still lying naked bound to that bed. The outburst earned me another smack to the side of the head.
"The condemned will carry her cross to the place of her execution! See to it! And don't spare the whip!" ordered Professor Donnelly, arm outstretched and bony finger pointing at the waiting cross.
I was spun around, and swiftly marched over to the cross, where I was forced to kneel and lean forward. Tiny lifted the heavy wooden T-cross as effortlessly as if it was made of cardboard and laid it against my back so that the crossbeam rested against my shoulders. Father Gerhart and Professor Donnelly were positioned to seize and stretch my arms out along it's length and hold them firmly in place while Tiny bound each of my wrists to the beam with lengths of cord. I winced as he pulled each of the the knots tight.
"On your feet, Moore, and bear your cross!" purred Gerhart who now held a long braided whip in his right hand while still panning the video cam with his left over my straining naked figure.
"Where?" I asked, struggling to my feet. The cross was frigging heavy!
"Over there, at the far end of the factory! Now move!" he growled as he placed emphasis to the command with a quick slash of the whip across the tips of my dangling breasts.
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RacingRodent
Consul
Come on Goldman, get your arse in gear this is getting serious
SWAT Squirrel is all geared up and ready to go
I certainly hope so. Wow! Great buildup of suspense. I love this. And we get a naked Barb carrying a cross.
Everything is good
(except those bastards, Donnelly and Gerhard, of course, who are quite bad).I wonder if there is a Tiny chink in their nefarious plans now though.
Probably not enough to save Barb, eh. 
windar
Teller of Tales
And the prize for guessing whodunnit goes jointly to Gibbs, who tagged the professor, and Wragg who called the vicar (I think the priest is close enough). What's the prize? A $10 gift certificate to Nailus Martyrs. I'm not sure what that will buy you, but I'm sure Tree can enlighten us
. Jolly, sorry, but saying "everyone did it" doesn't qualify.
So, now everyone knows except for one guy-Stan. Why is he always the last to find out?
By the way, there was discussion that maybe the perps chose to kidnap Barb because of the TV interview. It turns out they already knew who she was, though that doesn't mean it was a good idea.
. Jolly, sorry, but saying "everyone did it" doesn't qualify.So, now everyone knows except for one guy-Stan.
Why is he always the last to find out?By the way, there was discussion that maybe the perps chose to kidnap Barb because of the TV interview. It turns out they already knew who she was, though that doesn't mean it was a good idea.
Dorothy Brown
Brown Sugar
Wow, Tree, mention large cocks and all of a sudden Dorothy shows up. Now, Doro, you should go back and read the story and tell us whodunnit.
Where Is The Story
windar
Teller of Tales
It starts on page 1 of this thread.