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The Crash Of 2013 Finally Goes To Court...
- Thread starter thehangingtree
- Start date
I repudiate this claim! Barb shivers with anticipation upon your arrival. Or maybe the night is cold on her bare crucified body...THAT'S ZOMBIES, TREE.HONESTLY, CAN'T GET NO RESPECT AROUND HERE.
This must be pondered...
Goodnight all...
Tree
Shit! Has it really only been eight hours? Feels more like eight days!
At least the gnats and mosquitos have gone away. Too bad I am afraid of the dark.
Asshole
Alone with my thoughts. Even the lights have gone out. Well most of them anyway. Now that I am alone, naked and bleeding on a fucking cross in the middle of the night somewhere in the middle of fucking Missouri there are two things I want to say:1) I am innocent. I did not cause the Great Cruxforums Crash of the Summer of 2013!
2) that was a remarkable piece of writing Tree. Nice job of getting into my head and describing so graphically and distinctly what the fuck it’s like to be naked and nailed up here. Great descriptive writing!
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
In all my years (well, three) reading crux stories here, I don't think I've come across this phenomenon before. The author Tree's imagination, or the accumulated wisdom of THT Inc?
THAT was a new one on me too!
Thank you
I read this happens at times to athletes who do the gymnastic rings...
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
The night is worse than daytime. During the day I can at least guess how much time is passing. During the cloudy night I have no reference of time which places my focus entirely on my body and what the cross is doing to it. Don’t let Tree know his staying with me helped me handle the night.
Dawn is breaking. I have been given water whenever I asked but while it quenches my immediate thirst I doubt I can drink enough to stay fully hydrated especially during the warm day. That, along with my limited range of motion as dictated by the three spikes piercing my body and pin me to the cross, are causing muscles to cramp. It is worst in my thighs and calves. If I were not crucified these cramps would be debilitating I would have grabbed the affected muscle with my hands and massage it until the cramp passes. Of course this is yet another torment of the cross. All I can do is cry out in pain!
From the hospitality tent two women approach me on my cross. I listen in as I have nothing else to do but live or die.
“See that bitch? I want to do that to you. Can you take forty-eight hours crucified?”
“I am not sure I could take being bound to a cross for two days” the French woman replies.
“No, my little pet- I want you nailed to a cross for forty-eight hours” the dark-haired one replies.
“Judith, that is impossible” the French woman replies. “This one is not going to make another day!”
“Fuck off. I am just resting” I groan. “I’ll make the two days.”
If nothing motivates me more tell me there is something I can’t do. I look at the woman called ‘Judith’ and say “I will make two days. Promise you will invite me when you crucify your blonde friend!”
“But of course Barbara. We can make a garden party out it! Won’t that be fun, Messaline” Judith asks her.
The two women walk off and Tree comes up to my cross. Almost accusingly he says “Why did you do that, Barb?”
“Isn’t Messaline the supplier of your ‘premium’ French crucifixion wood?”
“Yeah, but…”
“I thought she might enjoy doing some quality control” I say.
“But Barb, Judith is her mistress. If she says Messa gets crucified Messa has no choice but to do so!”*
“Like I had a shit-load of choice about being crucified; I am innocent and look at me now” I snap back.
“So was Christ…”
“Great… So long after I’m gone maybe the ‘Barbian’ religions can make a fortune only this time run by women!”
“Damn, Barb, are you one of those bleeding-heart liberal Feminazi” Tree asks.
“Yet another reason to live- I will shatter you damn AM radio over your head. I doubt it will hurt your block of cement you call a brain much…”
-Barb
I think Barb is well over any good will she felt over me staying with her last night….
Tree
*this relationship will be explored in a soon-to-come thread...
Dawn is breaking. I have been given water whenever I asked but while it quenches my immediate thirst I doubt I can drink enough to stay fully hydrated especially during the warm day. That, along with my limited range of motion as dictated by the three spikes piercing my body and pin me to the cross, are causing muscles to cramp. It is worst in my thighs and calves. If I were not crucified these cramps would be debilitating I would have grabbed the affected muscle with my hands and massage it until the cramp passes. Of course this is yet another torment of the cross. All I can do is cry out in pain!
From the hospitality tent two women approach me on my cross. I listen in as I have nothing else to do but live or die.
“See that bitch? I want to do that to you. Can you take forty-eight hours crucified?”
“I am not sure I could take being bound to a cross for two days” the French woman replies.
“No, my little pet- I want you nailed to a cross for forty-eight hours” the dark-haired one replies.
“Judith, that is impossible” the French woman replies. “This one is not going to make another day!”
“Fuck off. I am just resting” I groan. “I’ll make the two days.”
If nothing motivates me more tell me there is something I can’t do. I look at the woman called ‘Judith’ and say “I will make two days. Promise you will invite me when you crucify your blonde friend!”
“But of course Barbara. We can make a garden party out it! Won’t that be fun, Messaline” Judith asks her.
The two women walk off and Tree comes up to my cross. Almost accusingly he says “Why did you do that, Barb?”
“Isn’t Messaline the supplier of your ‘premium’ French crucifixion wood?”
“Yeah, but…”
“I thought she might enjoy doing some quality control” I say.
“But Barb, Judith is her mistress. If she says Messa gets crucified Messa has no choice but to do so!”*
“Like I had a shit-load of choice about being crucified; I am innocent and look at me now” I snap back.
“So was Christ…”
“Great… So long after I’m gone maybe the ‘Barbian’ religions can make a fortune only this time run by women!”
“Damn, Barb, are you one of those bleeding-heart liberal Feminazi” Tree asks.
“Yet another reason to live- I will shatter you damn AM radio over your head. I doubt it will hurt your block of cement you call a brain much…”
-Barb
I think Barb is well over any good will she felt over me staying with her last night….
Tree
*this relationship will be explored in a soon-to-come thread...
Oh the night has a thousand eyes ... isn’t that a song?
God, these nails are killing me! Owwwwwww!
Couple of French floozies. 
I repeat, “I am innocent! I did not do it! A thousand times! I DID NOT DO IT!
“Bleeding heart liberal feminazi?” .... Geeze! What should I call you? Gun toting redneck Neanderthal? Sticks and stones. Let’s all call each other names.I think I’m getting delirious. How many more hours?
Um... you just started Day Two so... let's see... Um... you probably really don't want to know...
...sorry...
Tree
I can hardly take credit for it...
In his 1992 book The Way Things Ought to Be, Limbaugh credited his friend Tom Hazlett, professor of economics at the University of California at Davis, with coining the term. Hazlett used the term in a 1987 essay for Reason magazine.
Limbaugh is Rush Limbaugh... Barb's favorite radio talk show host....
I consumed that all not. Only your stuff.I can hardly take credit for it...
In his 1992 book The Way Things Ought to Be, Limbaugh credited his friend Tom Hazlett, professor of economics at the University of California at Davis, with coining the term. Hazlett used the term in a 1987 essay for Reason magazine.
Limbaugh is Rush Limbaugh... Barb's favorite radio talk show host....
I can hardly take credit for it...
In his 1992 book The Way Things Ought to Be, Limbaugh credited his friend Tom Hazlett, professor of economics at the University of California at Davis, with coining the term. Hazlett used the term in a 1987 essay for Reason magazine.
Limbaugh is Rush Limbaugh... Barb's favorite radio talk show host....
You actually read something written by the King of Bilge????????????
Tsk tsk.
The second full day Barb is crucified turns out to be more of the same but compounded by the time she has been crucified. It has been almost 36 hours since she was taken from her cell to be crucified and she hadn’t slept well that night. Since being crucified some 32 hours ago she may have passed in and out of consciousness but it hardly anything one would call a restful sleep. Adding to her exhaustion is the hunger gnawing at her as it is two days since she last ate. Along with the sun Barb’s strength rapidly ebbs.
This in turn makes it harder for Barb to hold her head up which conspires to restrict her breathing already labored from having her chest stretched by the cross.
I’ve stayed up long hours as an undergraduate student at the UVM thinking a studying cram-session would help me on a test but it never seemed to help. And I wasn’t starving. We have some damn good 24 hour diners in the capital of my blue state. And I wasn’t crucified though I swear that is what some of my professors would have loved to see done to me.
Even if they never touched me I know the bastards’ eyes undressed me.
-Barb
Tree will not mention that many of those all-nighters involved partying and finding the bottom of bottles of wine. I walk up to Barb’s cross and say “You look like you’re giving up.”
“So what if I am” Barb demands.
“You only have 14 hours to go, Barb” I say.
“That means I’ve done 34 hours. I hurt and I am hungry. I am tired. I am not thinking straight at all. If I want to quit it is my choice” I say. “I’m getting too weak to move much less push up to get a real breath of air. All this is to satisfy the bogus accusation that I caused the Crash of 2013.”
“Barb, try to look on the bright side. Whether falsely accused and punished or not you can never be tried for causing the Crash of 2013” Tree says.
Angrily I growl “It is not ‘whether falsely accused’- I am INNOCENT! I am going to so hurt you when this is over!”
“If you want to do that you can’t give up.”
God, do I hate when he is right. The sun is starting to set. I ask Tree if he will stay with me again tonight. He promises he will. I don’t want to read in the Crux Chronicles about my ‘love-hate’ relationship with Tree. We don’t have anything in common except this cross and three spikes.
At least as the skies darken I have some distraction beyond just Tree as I watch from the cross as first the catering company’s crew empties the hospitality tent of tables, chairs, and the serving apparatus. Someone gets the bright idea (pun intended) of turning one of the floodlights on me. It seems after all the hours I’ve been crucified the working stiffs (see ‘pun’ comment) still find me attractive.
The cross is not that tall so as to make it easier to rise. However it is on a small mound a meter and a half higher than the natural grade.
They carry tables and chairs past me and on the way back for more they pause to gawk at me.
Their remarks are a cruder than the VIPs’ were but the meanings were the same. One of them says “Spread your legs, cunt, so I can see what they are wasting” before he flicks his cigarette butt off my chest. He’s quite the gentleman, don’t you think?
I watch in fascination as the crew from the tent company takes over from the catering crew. One group quickly takes the ‘walls’ off while another group disassembles ductwork and hauls off the air conditioning unit.
Really?
The bastards had air conditioning???
Before long the tent’s top is off and like a choreographed dance the structure and the modular floor is gone. The trucks and equipment leave while a lone Jeep remains. I hear footsteps come up the mound behind me. A large strong hand grabs my left hip while his right hand probes between my upper thighs. I would love to tell you I was too weak to resist…
… but I spread my legs to take his fingers into…
Let’s all go to the lobby to get ourselves a treat
God damn it… an intermission now?!?!?!
…and I kiss him back. As he walks away I call “Would you tell me what time it is?”
“Sure. It’s 2:30 AM” he replies. “Are you planning to go somewhere?”
“Very funny” I reply trying to sound mad but rejoicing inside that I am under eight hours on this damn thing!
-Barb Moore with a goal in sight!
Tree
This in turn makes it harder for Barb to hold her head up which conspires to restrict her breathing already labored from having her chest stretched by the cross.
I’ve stayed up long hours as an undergraduate student at the UVM thinking a studying cram-session would help me on a test but it never seemed to help. And I wasn’t starving. We have some damn good 24 hour diners in the capital of my blue state. And I wasn’t crucified though I swear that is what some of my professors would have loved to see done to me.
Even if they never touched me I know the bastards’ eyes undressed me.
-Barb
Tree will not mention that many of those all-nighters involved partying and finding the bottom of bottles of wine. I walk up to Barb’s cross and say “You look like you’re giving up.”
“So what if I am” Barb demands.
“You only have 14 hours to go, Barb” I say.
“That means I’ve done 34 hours. I hurt and I am hungry. I am tired. I am not thinking straight at all. If I want to quit it is my choice” I say. “I’m getting too weak to move much less push up to get a real breath of air. All this is to satisfy the bogus accusation that I caused the Crash of 2013.”
“Barb, try to look on the bright side. Whether falsely accused and punished or not you can never be tried for causing the Crash of 2013” Tree says.
Angrily I growl “It is not ‘whether falsely accused’- I am INNOCENT! I am going to so hurt you when this is over!”
“If you want to do that you can’t give up.”
God, do I hate when he is right. The sun is starting to set. I ask Tree if he will stay with me again tonight. He promises he will. I don’t want to read in the Crux Chronicles about my ‘love-hate’ relationship with Tree. We don’t have anything in common except this cross and three spikes.
At least as the skies darken I have some distraction beyond just Tree as I watch from the cross as first the catering company’s crew empties the hospitality tent of tables, chairs, and the serving apparatus. Someone gets the bright idea (pun intended) of turning one of the floodlights on me. It seems after all the hours I’ve been crucified the working stiffs (see ‘pun’ comment) still find me attractive.
The cross is not that tall so as to make it easier to rise. However it is on a small mound a meter and a half higher than the natural grade.
They carry tables and chairs past me and on the way back for more they pause to gawk at me.
Their remarks are a cruder than the VIPs’ were but the meanings were the same. One of them says “Spread your legs, cunt, so I can see what they are wasting” before he flicks his cigarette butt off my chest. He’s quite the gentleman, don’t you think?
I watch in fascination as the crew from the tent company takes over from the catering crew. One group quickly takes the ‘walls’ off while another group disassembles ductwork and hauls off the air conditioning unit.
Really?
The bastards had air conditioning???
Before long the tent’s top is off and like a choreographed dance the structure and the modular floor is gone. The trucks and equipment leave while a lone Jeep remains. I hear footsteps come up the mound behind me. A large strong hand grabs my left hip while his right hand probes between my upper thighs. I would love to tell you I was too weak to resist…
… but I spread my legs to take his fingers into…
Let’s all go to the lobby to get ourselves a treat
God damn it… an intermission now?!?!?!
…and I kiss him back. As he walks away I call “Would you tell me what time it is?”
“Sure. It’s 2:30 AM” he replies. “Are you planning to go somewhere?”
“Very funny” I reply trying to sound mad but rejoicing inside that I am under eight hours on this damn thing!
-Barb Moore with a goal in sight!
Tree