Read Online Tales of Sin and Madness by Brett McBean - Free Book Online
Authors: Brett McBean
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police,” Sherry said quickly. She hurried over to the phone and stopped. Stuck on the handle was a small piece of paper. “Simon, there’s a note.”
Simon staggered over to Sherry. “Well, read it.”
She bent down and lifted the note off the phone. It was folded in half. She opened the note and read it out loud.
“Like your present? Ha Ha. Oh, if you don’t know what I’m talking about, look in your laundry sink…Done it?
Now, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to meet you, but I had other things to do. You understand.
I’ll make this short and sweet. Go into the kitchen and open the fridge. There you’ll find another present. One I think you’ll like more than the other one. And don’t think about calling the cops…I’ve cut the phone line and I know where you live, remember!!!
That’s all for now. See you in the kitchen.
Ciao.
P.S. don’t put any clothes on, darling. I like you just the way you are…”
Sherry looked up at Simon, tears in her eyes. “Oh my God. How did he know I wasn’t going to be wearing any clothes?”
Simon was bewildered. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on. Think we should call the cops?”
Sherry shook her head. “No. I mean, he warned us not to. Besides, if he knows I’m not wearing any clothes…” Sherry threw down the note and picked up the phone receiver. She placed it to her ear and heard nothing. No static; just dead air. “He’s cut the phone.”
“Shit!” Simon spat. “What are we going to do?”
“Go into the kitchen,” Sherry said.
They both hurried down the hall and entered the dark kitchen. Sherry turned on the lights and they both scanned the room. There was no sign of any intruders.
“How did he get in?” Simon whispered.
Sherry shook her head. She began walking towards the fridge.
“No, hey!” Simon called. “I’ll look.”
Sherry turned around. “And bang your head again? You stay there.” She approached the large fridge. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the handle.
“Be careful, darling,” Simon said, his voice quivering.
Grinding her teeth together, Sherry flung open the door. Resting on the top shelf was a large, bloody machete.
“What is it?”
“It’s a machete,” Sherry said.
Simon hurried over and peered inside. He reached in and took the large machete out. The blade was grimy with both wet and dry blood and there was another note attached to its handle.
Sherry grabbed the note off the machete. She opened it and, again, read it aloud.
“It’s me again. You get the idea how this works. This was the weapon used to kill the poor person.
Now, my love, take off your bra and go into your bedroom. Look in the closet.
If you both don’t do what I say, well, you don’t wanna know. Believe me.
Ciao.”
Sherry scrunched up the note and threw it down to the kitchen floor. “I don’t believe this. I’m not going to take off my goddamn bra for some sick weirdo.”
Simon was still holding the machete. “I think you’d better,” he said. “Who knows what kind of psycho we’re dealing with.”
“He’s not watching,” Sherry said.
“How do we know?” Simon asked.
Sherry looked at him hard, as if this were all his fault. She quickly unfastened the bra and let it fall to the ground.
Simon gazed at the perfect curves of her small breasts. Her nipples were hard and they were covered in goose bumps. His penis began to stiffen.
“Oh God,” Sherry groaned. “You’re sick.”
Simon’s face went hot, and he could tell he was blushing. He shrugged. “Sorry,” he said.
“Come on,” Sherry said sharply. “What are you going to do with that?” She nodded towards the machete.
“Take it with us. You never know,” he said.
Sherry turned around and hurried out of the kitchen, Simon following close behind. They arrived at their bedroom, and Sherry went over to the closet.
“Wait!” Simon said. “This time I’ll look. I’m the one with the machete.
Simon staggered over to Sherry. “Well, read it.”
She bent down and lifted the note off the phone. It was folded in half. She opened the note and read it out loud.
“Like your present? Ha Ha. Oh, if you don’t know what I’m talking about, look in your laundry sink…Done it?
Now, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to meet you, but I had other things to do. You understand.
I’ll make this short and sweet. Go into the kitchen and open the fridge. There you’ll find another present. One I think you’ll like more than the other one. And don’t think about calling the cops…I’ve cut the phone line and I know where you live, remember!!!
That’s all for now. See you in the kitchen.
Ciao.
P.S. don’t put any clothes on, darling. I like you just the way you are…”
Sherry looked up at Simon, tears in her eyes. “Oh my God. How did he know I wasn’t going to be wearing any clothes?”
Simon was bewildered. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on. Think we should call the cops?”
Sherry shook her head. “No. I mean, he warned us not to. Besides, if he knows I’m not wearing any clothes…” Sherry threw down the note and picked up the phone receiver. She placed it to her ear and heard nothing. No static; just dead air. “He’s cut the phone.”
“Shit!” Simon spat. “What are we going to do?”
“Go into the kitchen,” Sherry said.
They both hurried down the hall and entered the dark kitchen. Sherry turned on the lights and they both scanned the room. There was no sign of any intruders.
“How did he get in?” Simon whispered.
Sherry shook her head. She began walking towards the fridge.
“No, hey!” Simon called. “I’ll look.”
Sherry turned around. “And bang your head again? You stay there.” She approached the large fridge. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the handle.
“Be careful, darling,” Simon said, his voice quivering.
Grinding her teeth together, Sherry flung open the door. Resting on the top shelf was a large, bloody machete.
“What is it?”
“It’s a machete,” Sherry said.
Simon hurried over and peered inside. He reached in and took the large machete out. The blade was grimy with both wet and dry blood and there was another note attached to its handle.
Sherry grabbed the note off the machete. She opened it and, again, read it aloud.
“It’s me again. You get the idea how this works. This was the weapon used to kill the poor person.
Now, my love, take off your bra and go into your bedroom. Look in the closet.
If you both don’t do what I say, well, you don’t wanna know. Believe me.
Ciao.”
Sherry scrunched up the note and threw it down to the kitchen floor. “I don’t believe this. I’m not going to take off my goddamn bra for some sick weirdo.”
Simon was still holding the machete. “I think you’d better,” he said. “Who knows what kind of psycho we’re dealing with.”
“He’s not watching,” Sherry said.
“How do we know?” Simon asked.
Sherry looked at him hard, as if this were all his fault. She quickly unfastened the bra and let it fall to the ground.
Simon gazed at the perfect curves of her small breasts. Her nipples were hard and they were covered in goose bumps. His penis began to stiffen.
“Oh God,” Sherry groaned. “You’re sick.”
Simon’s face went hot, and he could tell he was blushing. He shrugged. “Sorry,” he said.
“Come on,” Sherry said sharply. “What are you going to do with that?” She nodded towards the machete.
“Take it with us. You never know,” he said.
Sherry turned around and hurried out of the kitchen, Simon following close behind. They arrived at their bedroom, and Sherry went over to the closet.
“Wait!” Simon said. “This time I’ll look. I’m the one with the machete.
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