Legends say when you’re in a haunted place and walk through a ghost, you feel a chill. Ben felt like his balls were about to freeze off…but the people around him were alive. ‘Is this hell? Did someone dose me with hallucinogenics?’
The sound of electronic music flared as Ben appreciated the “New-age” decor: X-shaped giant crosses with people tied to them, benches with adults lying down and getting spanked, an old man strapped into a hospital bed screaming puzzling obscenities. “F*ck your ass, you cumguzzling thunderc*nts! You J***-inhaling gerbil-f*ckers! Get that pickle sniffer out here! Where is Doctor D**** Baggins?!?”
…
‘Who owns this place?!? Clive Barker?!?’ Ben didn’t stop to smell the roses in this shart garden…Instead, he rushed through at the fastest speed he could muster without tripping over a sex toy! ‘Escape!’
The young were hopeful, but hope was the ultimate concealed curse in Pandora’s box. Hell hath many layers!
People dressed head to toe in furry animal costumes!
Santa Claus making out with the Easter Bunny!
Adults in diapers sucking on pacifiers!
…
“Waaaaa!” One middle-aged man was in an adult-sized crib crying like a baby!
A woman came out and started breastfeeding him!
“Don’t let that thing grow up!” Ben screamed as he ran away.
He turned the corner and thought he was safe when he heard shouting ahead.
Two men in leather were choking each other blue. Ben thought they were fighting and hurried over to break it up. “Hey, calm down! Stop it!”
They both glanced at him, then each put a hand on one of his shoulders. One spoke. “What’s up? Want to get in on this? We could make it a three-way choke and poke!”
The other chimed in. “The rare trifu*kta!”
…
After a moment of confusion, Ben stepped back and darted away. “David Carradine wasn’t enough? You both deserve wankcidents!”
Ben was gasping from running so much. “What’s with this warehouse? It’s like a damn maze!” All the frantic movement caused him to become lost. There wasn’t anything like a map around and he didn’t have a copy of Dante’s Inferno.
Yet, he didn’t dare return to those zones he passed through. Better the devil he didn’t know than those damn devils!
‘There must be an exit or somewhere to rest.’ Ben needed to catch his breath. During a rare moment of respite, he discovered an empty sofa nearby and took a seat to get his bearings.
*BBZZZZZ*
“Ahhhhh!” Ben stood up while shaking. It electrocuted him in the anus!
…
He scrutinized the sofa and saw little metal pads on the seats he thought nothing of before. “Nothing is safe here!”
Ben backed away from all the furniture, searching for any safe corner where he could rest a minute. He noticed a painted black wall with various unusual writings in white chalk.
“You had me at hello.”
“Bush did 9/11.”
“Epstein didn’t kill himself.”
Ben didn’t care much and set his back against it. He could only feel secure like this, with his back against the wall, a fact as ironic as it was tragic. Even so, he sighed in relief. ‘Safe at last.’
There was a cup-sized round hole in the wall a foot from his head…
In the corner of his eye, Ben noticed movement…and turned.
Like when playing whack-a-mole, a beige sausage-shaped creature emerged from the wall. It was rock hard…
Ben squinted. “Diglett?” He turned pale. “No! GLORY HOLE!”
It was a glory hole! One with a political and conspiratorial bias!
On instinct, Ben threw out a punch!
“AAAAAHHHH!”
As Ben sprinted away, the scream continued behind him.
***
5 minutes later.
Ben was hiding in a large room behind a sex swing.
He heard the DM’s voice as the man passed from room to room shouting. “Everyone! We’ve got a c*ckpuncher on the loose!”
Ben relaxed when he understood they weren’t aware he was the notorious c*ckpuncher…He now had a genuine secret identity. ‘My integration percentage with the Batman mask has increased…’
The DM continued. “He turned old Carl into a left leaner! …Be careful out there!”
Some random patrons yelled back.
“Shut up Steve! It’s just a c*ckpuncher!”
“Yea! Hey c*ckpuncher, if you can hear this, you can come punch my di*k off! I like it!”
…
‘This is no place for the living…’ Ben switched rooms with fevered urgency. However, in this dark warehouse of primal chaos, his mind was becoming hazy.
When you keep a secret identity, your true self becomes blurred. Who was the real him? Ben? Batman? C*ckpuncher?
…
Was he serving justice or evil? Was he even making a difference? He didn’t know anything anymore. He was tired, much too tired.
Justice was a cruel joke in this place. This warehouse didn’t need justice. Evil was bred into it, multiplying, regenerating. You punch off one c*ck and 100 take its place…
The darkness never ended…
