The Three Diapered Amigos

Book III: The Kidnapping

 

Written by JD © August 2013

 

 

Warning: The story you are about to read contains diaper use, violence, adult language and strong sexual content. The following is evil, illegal, should be banned, and all that other blah, blah, blah. If reading a coming of age story of self-discovery about pre-adolescent and adolescent boys that wet their beds, wear diapers, and explore their awakening sexuality with each other does not tickle your pickle (or if the law in your area says that pickle tickling is illegal) then don't read it.

 

Authors Note: Unlike the previous story, this one is going to be done a little differently. This story is going to be told from a first person perspective of not only Mark and Craig but also Randy. After each chapter title, you will find the character's name that will be speaking in the chapter. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me at my email address.

 

Please remember to donate to Nifty so that they can keep giving us this place for these wonderful stories! If you would like to email me about this or any of my other stories, please do so at johndazel@hotmail.com

 

What follows is from the end of Book II: Craig's Battle for Diapers

 

Today was the last day of school and a half day to boot. After an end of the year school party, we cleaned out our desk and lockers. Then Mark and I got on the bus without Randy, as he was picked up.

 

As we rode the bus home, we discussed our summer plans on the way. Our discussion continued even after we were dropped off at the bus stop. Because Mark's family told him to come straight home, we went our separate ways. You know, for some reason, I felt as if someone was staring at us as we walked from the Bus Stop. I guess the feeling went away as soon as we split up.

 

As I walked into our front yard, I couldn't help noticing the moving truck in front of the house across the street. Shoot, I didn't even know that the place was finally sold as it had been empty ever since Mr. Henderson went to live in the old folk's home.

 

"Hey Mom, I'm home!" I shouted out as I entered the front door. "Looks like someone is moving in across the street!"

 

"Craig, how many times have I told you not to yell inside the house?!" Mom Demanded. She then somehow could see through my pants as the next thing she said seemed to prove it. "My God Craig, your diaper is soaked!"

 

I stared down at my pants and tried to figure out how she could even see I wet my diaper, let alone be soaked. Oh well, must be another one of those Mom superpowers I figured.

 

Mom then took me by my hand and led me back to my bedroom where she then proceeded to change my very wet diaper. To be honest, I hadn't thought about it all day and was still wearing the diaper Mom put on me before we left for my school that morning. It was actually a miracle that the diaper had yet to leak. It was though practically falling off of me and had to weigh about ten pounds. Since I hadn't pooped in it, I was quickly cleaned up and put into a clean dry diaper. The whole procedure was done in less than ten minutes flat. I of course enjoyed the whole experience!

 

Now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt I was told by Mom to go outside and play until I was called in for lunch. I am not sure how long I was playing when I saw a car pull into the driveway of the house across the street. I figured these must be the new owners of the house and wondered once again if they had any kids. Unfortunately I only saw two heads in the car and both turned out to be adults, a man and a woman to be specific. Most likely they were husband and wife.

 

I watched the lady yell out something to the men unloading the stuff and then enter the house. The man though went and opened the back door of his car. I figured he was just getting some boxes or personal items, too fragile for the moving truck, from the backseat.

 

I watched as half of his body entered the back seat and when it re-appeared he was now holding what looked like a boy my age. It was hard to tell though as he was wrapped in a blanket and only his head was noticeable. I tried my best not to stare as I knew it was impolite, but even all the way across the street, I could tell this kid was not well. Something in me told me that this kid was not merely sick but maybe terminally ill. I knew what terminal meant as I had a classmate that died from Leukemia a couple years ago.

 

The man all of a sudden looked my way and feeling caught, I decided to go inside. As I went looking for Mom, I wondered again about the boy. My thoughts were all over the place but one was stronger than the others. Can I get to know this kid and maybe be friends with him?

 

I found Mom in the kitchen finishing my lunch. "Hey Mom, the new neighbors just arrived." I informed her.

 

"They have?"

 

I nodded my head to let her know that I wasn't joking or anything.

 

"Do you want to eat first or would you like to join me now in greeting our new neighbors?" Mom offered.

 

Now I was hungry as any growing boy is, but I was also unnaturally curious and really wanted to know more about the boy I saw.

 

"I want to go with you." I said with hardly any hesitation on my part.

 

Mom smiled then surprised me when she pulled a pie from the oven that somehow I hadn't smelled before. I guess it had actually been done for a while, and Mom was just letting it cool there. After wrapping the pie up, we headed across the street to meet our new neighbors. 

 

Elsewhere, my friend Mark was kidnapped!

 

Chapter 1: Meeting the New Neighbors

Craig:

 

My mother and I were on our way across the street to meet our new neighbors. Being neighborly, my mom even baked a pie to welcome them to the neighborhood. As we got to the street, excited at the idea of meeting a new kid; I started to walk out into the road without looking both ways.

 

Suddenly, a car horn blew and then a flash of metal appeared in front of my nose. As the car zoomed away, I heard the unmistakable cussing of a pissed off driver.

 

"Craig!" My mom shrilled. "What have I told you about going into the street without looking both ways first?!" I could not only see the fear of what almost happened in her eyes, but I could also hear it in her voice.

 

"I'm sorry Mom. I didn't mean to." I wheezed a little in fear as my young life was still flashing before my eyes.

 

My heart was beating in my chest so fast and hard, I was sure it was going to break out at any moment and then run down the street chasing after the car that scared it! I also realized that my close call had made me not only wet my diaper, but also to dirty it! I didn't have much time though to consider my soiled state.

 

Mom, not wanting to chance me being flattened by another car, grabbed ahold of my left hand and using her right hand to hold the pie, we crossed the street. Speaking of the pie, it had been a miracle that my mom hadn't dropped it when I was almost hit. I had totally missed her frantic juggling of the pie, which she told me about later.

 

Mom continued to grasp my hand tightly all the way to the neighbor's front porch and instead of letting it go, she instructed me to ring the doorbell for her.

 

Starting to tear up a little because of the pain coming from my tightly clenched hand, I reached out with my right one, and pressed the doorbell. As for my left hand, it felt like it was being crushed in a vice lock!

 

From somewhere in the house, we heard the doorbell ring. It was one of those types that played songs when the button was pressed. I remembered when old Mr. Henderson had put it in. It was shortly before his wife had passed away. Us guys got a kick out of it and loved to ring it whenever we were allowed. It had several different songs that it played and you never knew for sure which one it would play as it was completely random. Even though I was happy to learn the new neighbors kept the doorbell; at that moment, I was more concerned over the pain my mom was causing my hand and the contents of my diaper. All I could think was that she didn't realize how small my hand was compared to hers and how much stronger she was than me.

 

"Mom, you're hurting my hand!" I cried out finally not able to stand the pain any longer.

 

"Well then, maybe the next time you will remember to look both ways!" She fumed.

 

Still, she did loosen her death grip a little. Now with my hand not hurting so bad, I found myself starting to worry about my other problem, the condition of my diaper. So far I couldn't smell anything and Mom hadn't said anything about it, so I figured that maybe it didn't smell, at least not for now. The thing though was, I didn't want to take a chance on it staying that way for long.

 

"Mom, I changed my mind, I want to go back home and eat first. I'll come back later." I informed her.

 

She just looked at me in a confusing way. "Ridiculous, we are here now. You can wait to eat!" She proclaimed. And to make sure I didn't try to leave, she continued to hold my hand, preventing me from escaping.

 

Now don't get me wrong! I still wanted to meet the boy, but I preferred to do it in a clean diaper. With no other choice but honesty, I was about to tell Mom that I had messed my diaper, when suddenly the door was opened. In the doorway stood the woman I recognized, she was the one who entered the house right before I went inside to tell Mom that the neighbors arrived.

 

"Yes?" The woman asked and looked at my mom then down at me and then back at my mom. "Can I help you?" She asked politely.

 

"Hello there. My name is Wendy Pederson and this is my son Craig." Mom introduced us to the lady. "I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood properly, so I baked you a pie; it is Dutch Apple." My mother added.

 

"That is so nice of you!" The lady proclaimed. "Please come in and have a slice with us." She then stood aside and motioned for us to enter.

 

As Mom began to enter the house I tried to stop her, which was to no avail. I knew right at the moment that while I was outside, it was going to be harder to smell what I did. The problem was, I was sure once I was enclosed by 4 walls, that the mess in my diaper would surely be noticeable.

 

"Craig! Behave yourself!" Mom whispered angrily and proceeded to enter the house and of course pulling me in as well.

 

With no other choice, I entered the busy and box filled living room. As soon as we were inside, the lady closed the door and turned towards us smiling.

 

I guess Mom hadn't expected on it being so hectic. "Oh my, maybe we should come back later when you're not so busy." Mom stammered as she saw all the movers still trying to get everything where it was supposed to go.

 

When mom said this, I actually found myself hopeful that the lady would answer yes. This would of course offer me a chance of escaping before this lady had a chance to smell what I had done.

 

"Oh, don't worry about that. We paid them extra so that we don't have to do a thing." The lady informed us. "By the way, my name is Charlene Johnston, but you can call me Charley; everyone does." Mrs. Johnston babbled or Charley as she asked to be called.

 

She then led the way, through what could only be described as a disaster zone, to the kitchen. And while Charley started going through a box labeled dishes, Mom set the pie down on the counter.

 

"I know we have some plates in here somewhere?" Charley half muttered to herself.

 

Trying not to move very much, as I was worried that if I did that the mess in my diaper would start to smell, I stood next to my mom as straight as a board. As my mom and Charley talked, I was quickly becoming bored. I found myself wondering where the boy was at, the one I had seen being carried in. For just that moment, I managed to temporarily forget what I had done in my diaper. Of course, I would be reminded very shortly!

 

Finally, after opening a 2nd box, Charley located her plates. "Oh, here they are." She smiled as she took 4 of them from the box. "Don't worry; everything was washed before it was packed." She assured us, though I don't think either of us was worried.

 

Now normally when it came to desert, I was the first one there to get mine and the first to ask for more, but this was not one of those times. I was sure I was starting to smell my dirty diaper and I knew that if I could smell it, surely others would soon. All I wanted to do was go home and get changed; then maybe come back and meet their kid.

 

Finally after looking through another box, Charley had found something to cut the pie with. She then sliced it and put a piece on each plate.

 

"Boy, it has been a long time since I had a homemade pie!" Charley declared.

 

"Oh, I am sorry. It is frozen box pie that I threw into the oven earlier." My mom confessed. She then went on to add, "Though, I have been told that I do make a pretty `mean' Pecan Pie from scratch."

 

"Oooh, that sounds nice."

 

About then, the man I had saw carrying the child inside, entered the kitchen.

 

"Charley the gu..." He stopped when he noticed me and my mom standing there. "Oh, I didn't know we had company." He said cheerfully and shook my mom's hand. "My name is Frank; I am Charley's younger brother."

 

"Oh... I thought you were her husband!" I suddenly without thinking blurted out.

 

Mom covered my mouth in case I said anything else that might embarrass her. She gave Charley a look and shrugged. "They say that kids say the darndest things."

 

Charley decided to ignore Mom's comment and instead answer my question. "Oh no, my husband Steven had to stay behind as he has stuff to wrap up with his business before he can move it here." Charley informed us. "Frank here was so kind to help me move since my husband couldn't. Hopefully Steven will be out here with us in a few weeks at the most."

 

It was about this time in the conversation that Charley gave us each a plate and asked us to sit at her kitchen table. Again I wasn't really to wanting to move but my love for all things sugar won out and I took a seat at the table. As I sat, I felt the load squish in my diaper. Now normally, I would be in heaven right about then; but due to my current circumstances, I wasn't able to enjoy the feeling at all! This was because, just the act of sitting, allowed the smell of my mess in my diaper to escape. The next several minutes were ones of total embarrassment.

 

"Oh Craig!" My mom stated in sudden shock as the smell emanated the room. "Please Craig, tell me you didn't" She pleaded.

 

I of course sank in my chair, trying my best to sink down to nothing. I am not sure why Mom insists on me not telling her things I did, when it was evident that I did do them! Of course, I could tell my mom what she wanted to hear, but then it wouldn't be the truth! Like I said, she knew what I did and now everyone else in the room did as well!

 

"Oh... I am so sorry!" My mother sounded flustered and I could tell that I wasn't the only one embarrassed from me pooping myself.

 

As my mom started to stand up, which I could only guess was that she had planned to grab me and leave; Charley reached out and stopped her.

 

"Oh, don't worry about that." She interjected softly. "I have a little boy myself, so I know how it can be." She added understandably.

 

Mom looked like she still wanted to leave but I think the neighbor in her thought it would be rude at this point. She resettled in her seat and gave me a very embarrassing and nervous look. I just sank in my seat even more until she looked away.

 

"So you have a little boy?" Mom asked trying her best to ignore the deadly fumes now coming from me. But it was very obvious that she was very uncomfortable at that moment.

 

"Oh yes! He's a little angel." She smiled as she said this. "But he can be a little devil as well!" At this, Charley and Frank started to laugh, and Mom grimaced a little.

 

As for me, I was still trying my best to shrink to nothing! Not even the discussion of her boy could even make me think of anything else but my messy diaper. So instead, as Charley and her brother Frank talked to my mom; I did the only thing I could think of! I gobbled my dessert down, hoping that Mom would then let me flee!

 

"Mom, can I go home now?" I asked with my mouth full of pie and my eyes begging for dismissal.

 

Of course, mom was more than happy to let me go now. With it no longer being rude as I had done my part now, she smiled weakly and told me I could. Boy did I feel better when she said I could leave! And leave I did! I ran all the way back home! I didn't stop at GO and I didn't collect $200! Nope, I didn't hesitate for a moment! Shoot, I even forgot to look both ways again when running across our street! Boy, I am glad that there were no cars coming then. As for Mom, I think she felt a lot better when my fragrance was no longer filling the room. I could almost bet the first thing Charley did when I left, was get out the Lysol spray!

 

As I said, I ran all the way home and didn't stop until I was in my room. I then threw myself into my new bed and allowed myself to cry and cry I did. As loud sobs filled my bedroom, I tried my best to get over the embarrassment I had just experienced! You know, I really love diapers and everything that comes with them... Well... All but one thing that is... I really hate it when someone finds out about them that I don't want to know! It is very, very, embarrassing!

 

I am not sure how long I laid there crying, but at one point, I actually fell asleep. Unfortunately, along with much needed sleep, came the nightmare!

 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

 

I was at school with Randy and Mark, but it wasn't a school day. Shoot it wasn't even day! Instead, it was the middle of the night. For some reason we were sitting around a campfire on the playground. A little off in the distance, I could just make out the iron structure of the old swing set which was slightly lit from the dancing flames of the campfire. There was a slight breeze, which caused the swings to squeak as they moved about. The noise though seemed more eerie than it should be! Each time I heard the swings squeak, a shiver ran up my spine, despite it being about 90 degrees out. This was another strange thing, here it was so hot, yet we were huddling around the campfire as if we were freezing to death.

 

"I know a real good one!" Randy announced excitedly.

 

It seemed that we were sitting around the fire telling scary campfire stories. You know, the ones you hear about at camp.

 

"It is about this killer you see. All he does is go out and look for little boys with blue eyes and murders them."

 

As Randy started to tell his tale, I found the sudden shivers happened more often.

 

"The way the story goes, the killer was a normal boy who did normal things. He was especially good at art. He loved to draw cartoons and could easily reproduce whatever he could see. More than once he was told that he had a great talent from his teachers and the few friends he had. Unfortunately, his stepdad didn't feel the same. He would mock the boy and tell him he was nothing but a sissy, who drew sissy little pictures. Because his mother had died when he was real young, and he didn't know who his father was, all he had was that dead beat stepfather who hated him more than anything!"

 

I don't know why, but as Randy was talking, I suddenly started to become afraid! And it wasn't strictly because of the story! It was more than that; I just couldn't put my finger on it! Still, I didn't interrupt him and even sat there mesmerized with the story as Randy spun his tale of `The Blue Eyeball Killer'.

 

"When the boy was around our age, 10 or 11, his teacher sent one of his drawings to a special art school. The teacher wasn't sure what they would say, so she decided to not say anything to the boy about it. At least not until she heard back, and then, only if she got good news. A few weeks later, she received a packet from the school that included a letter that stated that they thought the boy had a real talent. In the packet was a special drawing test, which would gage his talent further and see if he was right for their school! The teacher, when she saw this, was excited for her student and his possibilities. The very next day, she took the boy the drawing test and explained to him what it was for. The boy was thrilled!"

 

So far the story didn't seem that of a typical horror story, but for some reason, I was still finding a fear growing inside of me. One that seemed to be eating my inside's out!

 

"The boy got busy right away on the test and it didn't take long for him to complete it. After looking at his excellent job with the drawing test, his teacher sent it in for him. Not long after, the teacher was called at her home, which was the phone number she listed as a contact number. It turned out to be a representative from the school and he informed the teacher that they were all very impressed with the boy's test! They claimed that he was a very gifted artist, which they found to be rare at his young age. He informed her that they wanted the boy to come to their school that summer. He explained that the tuition would have to be paid up front though. The teacher thrilled with the news, suddenly realized something that she hadn't really considered, the cost! She was more than willing to pay the tuition herself, but on her teacher's salary, she wasn't sure if she could afford it."

 

Suddenly, it felt as if I was being watched! I stood up and when I did, Randy stopped his story to see what was wrong. Both Mark and Randy seemed to think I was just getting spooked and they assured me that no one was out there watching us. So I settled back down, and Randy started back where he left off.

 

"The teacher, afraid of the answer, asked her next question. It was of course how much would it cost. As she was afraid, the tuition was a very large sum and was something that she could just not afford. She knew that the boy's step father was nothing but a deadbeat and didn't have the money or the willing if he did, to pay for the boy to attend the school. She knew he wouldn't lift a damn finger to help the boy, unless it meant embarrassing or punishing him! In fact she had been trying to get Child Protective Services involved, to hopefully get the boy away from him. There had been many times where the boy sported bruises and other injuries to school. She was also concerned that he almost always smelled of old dried urine, as if he was wetting the bed at night. This of course you can imagine, caused him terrible ridicule from the other kids at the school. On top of this, when she asked the boy why he doesn't wash up before coming to school, his answer was that his stepdad wouldn't let him! Supposedly it was his punishment for wetting the bed. Unfortunately, CPS was either overworked or just not doing their job properly, as the boy remained where he was. This of course became a cause of friction between her and the jerk, as she came to know the stepdad. The teacher, feeling bad because she couldn't help the boy with his talent, informed the guy from the art school that unfortunately, the price was more than she could afford."

 

Again I felt like I was being watched and my eyes darted around trying to peer in the dark. But other than the old swing set, I didn't see anything out to get me. Oh... I didn't mean to make anyone think that the swing set was out to get me. Anyway, trying to shake the feeling, I once again put my concentration back to Randy's story. At this point, Randy was explaining how the guy from the art school seemed interested in the fact that the teacher would be so willing to pay the tuition price of their school, for one of her students.

 

"...the teacher, who thought the boy was the best student she ever taught, was more than willing to brag about her student. She went on to tell the gentleman how bright and gifted the boy was. She finished off telling him about the nightmare that the boy called a home life. The gentleman on the other end was so fascinated that after a moment's thought, he made a suggestion. It turned out that there was a scholarship program at the school and it would pay the full tuition price, including food and lodging, of 1 new student every year. In fact, it paid for every single cost the person who it was granted to, would incur during their whole time attending there. Now the gentleman didn't want to get the teacher's hopes up, but he explained to her that he would put the boy's name into the running for the grant that would be given for this year. He was sure that with all the boy's talent, that he would have a very good chance in getting it. So after going over the details, the teacher happily hung up. As much as she didn't want to, she now knew that she had to tell the boy's stepfather what was going on. She figured it would be best to let him know now rather than to wait until the very last moment. She figured that maybe the stepdad would even be grateful that the boy wouldn't be around for the whole summer and give him a break. So the teacher planned to go personally to the boy's home the next day. As planned, she headed out the next morning, which was a Saturday. She wasn't surprised when the boy answered, but when she saw him in nothing but a diaper, she became quite concerned. Not necessarily because of the diaper, but because of the welts and bruises that covered the boy's body. She also noticed that the boy's diaper was bloated and from the smell of it, there was more than pee inside of it. The boy seeing his teacher at the door, suddenly turned beet red, before bolting from the room."

 

As Randy said `bolting', I shivered so badly that my bladder suddenly gave. Still, I was more worried about the feeling of being watched, than I was of wetting my pants. Because of this, I didn't think too much about it. Again, both Mark and Randy tried to calm my frazzling nerves. They even talked about forgetting the story, but something in me demanded to know the ending. I had to beg Randy to continue before he would.

 

"As I was saying, the teacher came over to the boy's home and saw him in a diaper. When the boy ran out of sight, the teacher, seeing that the door was still open, decided to enter the home. She closed the door behind her and as she did, the stepdad, who had been snoring logs in an armchair, suddenly awoke. Of course when the Jerk saw her, they immediately got into it with each other. After a lot of arguing the teacher found out why the boy was in a diaper. The Jerk was using it as a punishment for the boy for constantly wetting the bed every night! The teacher fumed as she heard this and was sure the Jerk was also beating the boy for wetting the bed. As angry as she was, she decided right now it would be best to keep the Jerk happy. This way he might let the Boy attend the school if granted the Scholarship. Of course the Jerk was not receptive one bit! He refused to believe that the boy had any talent and according to his belief, would be nothing but a `Sissy Bedwetting Bum' when he grew up! He then threw the teacher out of his home and told her that if she put one toe in it again, he would shoot her on sight as an intruder! Upset but hoping that maybe she might still be able to do something for the boy, she left the home. The very first thing she did when she got back to her own place, was place another call to Child Protective Services! She wanted to report the bruises and welts that she saw covering the boy's body. She also reported how he was being punished with wearing diapers and forced to use them just for wetting the bed. They again told her that they would look into it, but the teacher was afraid that it would be the same result as before. Well... A few weeks went by until one day; something came in the mail that brightened her mood quite a bit. Along with her normal mail, she found a large packet which included a congratulation letter to let the boy know he had been awarded the Scholarship for that year. Happy for the boy she called him at home and informed him of the news right away. She explained that she didn't know how she would do it, but somehow she would find a way to get him to the school even if it meant taking him there herself."

 

At this point Randy paused in the story and smiled at us. Getting tired of him just staring at us with his goofy look I shouted at him.

 

"For God sake, finish the story!" Again Randy smiled his big goofy grin. But at least he started telling the story again.

 

"When the boy didn't show up for school the next day, she was worried but figured he must be sick. The next couple days though, the boy failed to show up in class, and she now found herself thinking that something worse must have happened. Knowing that she would be taking a huge risk to herself, the teacher decided to chance going back to the boy's home. She pounded on the door several times but no one answered. Not knowing what else to do, she tried the door and found it unlocked. Quietly and slowly, the teacher entered the smelly and messy home. No one was in sight. Still something did not seem right to her. She decided to check the house for any sign of the boy. It didn't take long to locate him. She found him padlocked to a pole in the basement. As she entered the room where he was, he was looking away from her, and he was murmuring something that she couldn't quite make out. She did notice that the boy was once again clad in only a diaper which looked like it had reached its full absorbency days ago! The small boy's body was also covered in fresh bruises. As she bent down to get a better look at him, she used her hand to raise his head up so that she could look into his face. When she saw him, she began to scream! His bright and smart looking blue eyes had been gouged from his head and instead, she was seeing his bleeding empty eye sockets! As for his eyes, it was later determined, they were nowhere inside the house. Also, being as close as she was, she finally recognized what the boy was saying. He was repeating the same thing over and over. `Where are my eyes!' he kept crying. Later, the police speculated that the stepdad must have taken them with him, as a trophy. Of course the local news and town folk all had their own theories of what happened to the boy's eyes and why they were taken. In the end, the prevailing theory was that the stepdad, enraged and jealous of the boy's talent, decided that he was going to make sure that the boy never was able to go to that art school. Since his talent was based on his ability to reproduce what he saw, the stepdad knew that taking the boy's eyes would forever rob him of so-called talent! For the next few days, there was a large manhunt for the boy's stepdad and finally a few towns over, they located the Jerk. It turned out that he had taken his own life and they found him with the smoking gun still in his hand, sprawled out dead in his hotel room. They searched the whole area, but the boy's eyes were never found."

 

At this point, Randy started talking in a spooky voice and he really was freaking me out with it. Again I felt the fear of being watched and also as if something about this story was very familiar.

 

"It is said that the boy went crazy after that and they had to lock him away. A few years ago, he somehow escaped and is said to be now searching for his blue eyes. Every so often, he kills a little blue eyed boy, so that he can take their eyes for his own!"

 

And suddenly, Randy pounced on me as he yelled out, "AND HE IS COMING FOR YOUR EYES CRAIG!"

 

He of course got the reaction he wanted, as I began to screech like a little girl! Of course, after I got over my initial fright, I punched him hard in the shoulder.

 

"Damn you Randy!" I shouted at him. "You scared the shit out of me!" I yelled as I pushed him off of me.

 

Randy and Mark laughed at this and Randy started pointing towards my pants.

 

"I also scared the piss out of you as well!" He laughed.

 

Looking down at my pants, the memory of peeing myself during the story, came back to me. I tried to pull my shirt down to cover the wet patch on the front of my pants, but it didn't come down far enough to hide it. Angry, I flipped Randy the bird!

 

"Oooo... Craig just did a no-no!" Randy announced in a mocking way.

 

All it did was infuriate me more, so I went all out and gave him the highly coveted, 2 birds!

 

Randy didn't get mad at all; instead he burst out in a new round of laughter.

 

He then suddenly chanted, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but Craig, your fingers will never hurt me!" Even Mark seemed to think Randy's twist on the `Sticks and Stones' story was funny.

 

I was grumbling and still trying to force my shirt to stretch further down, when suddenly, a large dark shadow washed over us. Of course the sudden appearance scared the living crap out of us kids. But, when the person, who was a very large looking adult, didn't move, we figured it must be some drifter who saw our fire.

 

"Hey! This is a no bums' allowed zone!" Randy yelled at the shadow shrouded figure. "Now make like an egg and beat it!" He laughed.

 

Again whoever it was just stood there and looked at us as if trying to figure out which one of us was juicier! Then he slowly raised his hand and in it was what looked like some real small version of a sharp ice cream scoop! He then, without any warning, lunged for Mark; and as he raised the hand with the ice cream scoop in it in the air, Randy jumped on the guy and tried to tackle him.

 

"Mark... Craig... Run you damn fools!" Randy yelled at us.

 

The problem was, neither of us seemed to be able to move at all. The guy easily lifted Randy off of him and threw him hard against a nearby tree. Even in the low flickering firelight, I was able to see Randy's eyes roll back into his head, as he hit the tree in a sickening crunch!

 

The next thing happened quicker than I expected. The big guy, whose face seemed to stay hidden from the firelight; raised that scoop and with complete skill, used it to expertly cut Marks eyes right out of his skull! It was while watching this, that I remembered seeing an episode of Criminal Minds, where the killer used a similar weapon to cut out people's eyes!

 

He then let Mark go who collapsed to the ground and was screaming, "MY EYES! MY EYES! MY EYES!" Over and over again. I was able to see the blood flow freely from Mark's empty eye sockets!

 

Then the guy turned towards me and for the first time, I saw his face. For the second time in just a short period, I wet my pants once more. The face was that of a battle scarred skull... An eyeless skull!

 

It was at this time, I started to scream and scream and scream!

 

 

 

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