Bachelor Party

Bachelor Party
A short Story

Jon didn’t want to watch, but he had no energy to move or shut his eyes. Shawn’s left eye popped like an alpha male’s ego after being turned down by a high-maintenance woman at a low-key bar—it made the sound of a plastic spoon being dumped into a container of yogurt.

Shawn’s right eye wouldn’t close and despite the agony, he attempted to open his mouth, even slightly, to remind Jon that he was still alive. Hours earlier, they described the scenario:

“You’ll kill me, right?” asked Shawn. “I mean--if you have to?”

“Of course,” Jon smirked with some remaining energy. “I’d expect the same from you.”

Earlier that day, they swindled the wrong guys at the wrong time at a casino in Vegas. The lights were hot on the strip, but the men they hustled were colder than a pair of freshly-washed trousers. The duo’s intentions weren’t sadistic; Jon and Shawn desired one more bold adventure before getting married on Saturday--a double wedding.

The men chased them with animosity as transparent as a reflection in a pond. They fired warning shots into the sky. Feeling helpless, Jon and Shawn ran for cover in the pitch-black desert. But they didn’t stop running. They feared the men would sense their cowardice and pinpoint their location. They ran just a few steps too far.

The next morning, the sun whispered its might on to the bare-backs of Jon and Shawn. They took off all their clothes while trying to reroute to the strip. They never made it. What else can one do but collapse?

Shawn screamed as the buzzard pecked at his other eye. He always thought that buzzards waited for the victim to die before feeding. That was his last wish. He wanted it more than returning to the strip.

The buzzard began tugging at Shawn’s dehydrated, elastic skin. His skin was often penetrated, creating puncture holes perfect for large piercings.

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