Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Strip Club Horror Story | 4 Part Series (Exclusive content)

Episode Date: September 21, 2021

Get 73% OFF NordVPN plus 4 months completely free by going to nordvpn.com/drnord and using coupon code DRNORD at sign-up! 👕 Get your Dr. NoSleep® Merch here: drnosleep.com 🎉 Patreon 👉🏼 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🔔 Dr. NoSleep YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Advertising Inquiries: [e-mail] DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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calls something you need to watch. Saving those children is how we all go home. From Binge All Episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. I was on the wrong side of 40, newly divorced, and had to penny pinch

by spending $19. 13 cents on three leaders of Kirkland's signature moonshine because most of my paycheck had been converted to one dollars bills. I was headed to the Zoom room. I got a pretty good buzz going in the parking lot before ditching the moonshine in the trunk of my Yugo. I didn't want to get thrown in the gutter again by Big Hewell. Yep, that's my life. I certainly didn't plan it this way. I had been adrift after my

army discharge, waiting for a sign. I found it when I cried the first time watching Stand and Deliver and had committed myself to a life of teaching by the fifth viewing. I really wanted to make a difference in kids' lives. So, I was horrid. when I realized where I recognized the new Zoom Room girl's face. Shit. What was her name? Sandra? Samantha. That was it. Kind of a pain in the ass, but really pulled it together just before graduation. By the way, remember how students talked about teachers behind their backs? Yeah, teachers do the same. So I'd hoped that Samantha had really found a new path with her senior year turnaround and had maybe gone on to college. Based on the quantity of dollar bills

her G-string, though. It seems that her alternative career choice had proven more lucrative than my own. And despite our diverging life choices, five years later, we now found ourselves in the exact same place as one another. Shit, she was walking in my direction. Why was she walking in my direction? Did I look like a man who was that desperate for companionship? I decided not to think too deeply on that question. Instead, I slink down as low as I could, gently ripping the soles of my shoes off of the very sticky floor as I repositioned my legs in front of me. With any luck, she'd walk right past me and offer her wares to a more desperate-looking loner. She stopped and sat on my lap. Okay, what were the options? She probably wouldn't recognize me. Would you recognize your senior year

English teacher half a decade after graduation when both of you were in a dark room where you didn't expect to meet? No way. I was just another client to Samantha. Part of my brain told me just to go with it, that we weren't breaking any rules. Then a stronger voice told me that I couldn't be that guy, that some lines shouldn't be crossed, and that I had some standards, God damn it. But when she brushed her chest up against my face and whispered in my ear, for the life of me, I could not remember what I'd just been thinking as the world got all flupy. Come with me into the Zoom Boom Room, she whispered. Nope, uh-uh, hard pass. That was where the dancers turned tricks on lonely guys who were too pathetic to decline an offer from a pretty smile.

If anyone found out, I'd paid for sex instead of just a lap dance, I'd lose my job. Fortunately, I had stronger mental fortitude than the typical creep who wandered into the Zoom room on a Tuesday afternoon. I looked around dazedly to realize that we were alone in a back room. Shit, did I just mindlessly follow you here while my brain was hazy? Instead of answering, she ran her fingernails down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps and her wake. Um, did you know that the scientific name for goosebumps is pilo erection? Why? Why did I say that? God damn. I need a filter on my mouth that weeds out all the stupid shit before it permeates the room like an onion fart. She giggled. You were always trying to teach us the most

interesting things, Mr. Nemethal. My balls froze. You, uh, remember me? She giggled again, and the front lobes of my brain felt like clocks in a Salvador dolly painting. Of course I remember you, Mr. Namathol. She pushed me onto the couch, and I collapsed with absolutely zero resistance or dignity. Then Samantha crawled on top of me, bending down to kiss my neck. You always loved telling me what to do. She squeezed my thigh. My mind snapped to attention.

No. I scrambled out from underneath her. No, no, no. Samantha, this is below the table. dignity of both of us. Your fly is open. She smirked, one eyebrow raised. I looked down to find that my erection was prominently poking through the zipper of my jeans, though the top button was still fastened. What the fuck? I don't even remember. I opened it. She whispered, standing up and forcing me into a corner. I've got a lot more very special talents that I'd like to show you. She cooed,

pressing me against the bricks. No, I can't be that guy. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry, I just can't. I yelped, pulling myself out from her grasp with great difficulty. It's funny how we assume that men are stronger than women, because I feel so goddamn weak when one of them touches my skin in just the right way. You don't want me to show you everything I've learned? She pouted. I've got a very detailed sex blog that you'd like.

I was actually considering it, so I knew I had to get the hell out of there. So I turned around, Dick still protruding, and walked toward a door. Where's the exit, Samantha? I don't remember how we got in. Stop! She yells as I opened the nearest one. I wasn't going to fall for any more of her wily tricks, though, so I shot through the door, into the biggest arsenal I'd ever seen. Three women were inspecting weapons.

I recognized them as Trudy, Coco, and Stardust. They were all dressed in skimpy underwear and eight-inch plastic heels as they loaded bullets into their AR-15s. The whole scene looked like a shitty poster from the inside of my Uncle Herbert's trailer. What the fuck are you doing? Coco screamed, aiming the barrel of her weapon at me. Don't shoot him. Samantha screamed, barging into the room and slamming me into the wall. My dick hit the wood square on, and I collapsed to the floor in pain.

Do you have any idea how badly it hurts to get smacked in the boner? Pray that you never will. In the cloud of pain that followed, I was vaguely aware of Samantha guiding me as I staggered back into the zoom-boom room and collapsed onto the couch. Once the pain, it's subsided enough to once again understand. understand human language, I struggled to figure out what was going on. She was sitting on the other end of the sofa, head in her hands. I'm so sorry, Mr. Namathol. Really? I am. She looked up at me,

and her cheeks were streaked with far too much mascara. It was base, real, and the most honest face I had seen in longer than I could remember. I realized for the first time that there was more beauty behind the makeup. Okay, I breathed, trying to integrate the disparate bits of information that had assaulted my mind in the past five minutes. It's okay, Samantha. Look, I'll just go out the correct door this time. I think I need a good crotchal icing. She sniffed and shook her head.

You don't get it. You can't just leave. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Um, does this have anything to do with the large quantity of weapons I saw in the other room? She glared back at me, exasperated. Yes, this has to do with the large quantity of weapons you saw in the other room. She deadpanned. Then she sighed.

and lowered her head back into her hands. There's no point in secrets anymore, so I might as well tell you. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. You must know by now that this place is much more than a strip club. She mumbled through her fingers. A lot more. This guy, Ace, lives in Vegas,

but he owns the Zoom Room. No one thinks that an isolated brothel in rural Louisiana would have anything to do with him, so this is where he makes his trades. Trades? I asked, tentatively spreading my legs apart to see if I could still move. Samantha dropped her hands to her knees and turned to face me, exasperated.

Human trafficking. Girls disappear to and from here without anyone batting an eye. It's the perfect conduit. The farthest corner of my mind realized that I had taught her a word that she remembered. Maybe my existence had turned the smallest gear in the world, and maybe that was enough. She ran her fingers through her hair. Girls appear, girls disappear. What could any of us do? We're trying to run from bills faster than then they can chase us. And if we leave something behind to stay ahead, that's a day well spent. That hit me harder than I'd expected. I only ever took single dollar bills to the strip club, and for the first time,

I considered what that said about the value I placed on the women who worked for them. But... Samantha continued, her voice growing softer. It looks like Ace needs big money. She stared darkly at me, and for the first time, I really met her gaze. We're all scheduled to go away. Tonight. Every girl who works here.

We know what this means, and we can't ignore it any longer. You mean I couldn't finish my sentence. There's no reason not to fight back when you're about to lose everything. She explained darkly. Once, Coco stabbed Ace's gunrunner. The rest of us were all in. Ace's guys wanted us to entertain them before taking us away. Every client here today works for him.

She looked pittingly at me. Well, all of them but one. They picked a Tuesday to move us, assuming the regulars had other things going on in the middle of the week, and the place would be empty. Well, that was an awkward silence. I'm so sorry, Mr. Namathol. I tried to get you away from everything before it happened. I really did. You were always so good to me.

She reached out, squeezed my hand, and smiled sadly. But you saw what you weren't supposed to, and the rest of the girls want you dead. A lot of lives are at stake tonight, and they're willing to sacrifice just one. I scrambled to my feet, temporarily ignoring the throbbing pain in my joystick. Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's back things up a bit. I'll just head out and pretend none of this. They're blocking every door and are listening to us right now. She whispered sadly.

I really feel awful about this, Mr. Namathal. She frowned. Sometimes your best just isn't good enough. Terror overwhelmed me, and I realized that I never truly been afraid until that moment. It's amazing how quickly the wheels can be. turning in our heads when they have to. Okay, okay, wait. To everyone listening to me, wait. Two doors opened. Coco and Stardust emerged, each aiming their weapon at me. I was mostly scared, but slightly aroused. Stop, I ordered weakly. Just hear me out. Slowly, I looked at each of them in turn.

I took a deep breath. You're holding the stock below your armpit. Once you start firing, you won't be able to control where the bullets go. A lot of people are going to die and not the ones you want. I looked back at Samantha. I have a lot of weapons experience for my army days. Let me help you. We'll fight back together. You're holding that assault rifle like it's a bass guitar, I explained to Coco and Trixie. Those things have a hell of a kick, so the ceiling will experience your full wrath when you lose control and it fires hard enough to knock you out of your heels. I drew in a long, calming breath. And have you even considered where you're going to store the extra For magazines?

Why would we need to bring magazines to a gunfight? Samantha asked from behind me. My heart sank. I don't know how to say this, ladies. I explained as I looked from Samantha to Coco to Trixie. But if you attempt this, you're going to die. They didn't move, but fear danced openly behind their eyes. Or worse, I pressed, realizing that I was gaining the upper hand.

What happens to the girls in your profession who betray their boss? The little fear was replaced with open horror as Trixie lowered her weapon and walked back. Fuck this, Coco. I'm done. Let's just go where Ace takes us. Maybe it won't be so bad. No way. Coco responded.

Her finger's still on the trigger. We killed Ace's gun runner. Remember? We're all in. Trixie squatted down and clutched two fistfuls of hair and stress. A quiet sob escaping her lips. My own pulse was thudding so hard that I didn't notice Samantha sliding up. behind me until I jumped at her touch.

Coco, I think we should listen. Mr. Namathal was always an okay guy. I was hoping for more than okay for my potential savior, but the ones you teach are the ones who will break your heart. And what have we got to lose that's not already gone? She pressed gently. After one more frozen moment, Coco lowered the AR-15 and swore in frustration. Trudy is not going to like this.

She hissed through clenched teeth. I let out a long, heavy breath, but I hadn't realized I'd been holding as relief washed over my body. With attention down, I was once again painfully aware of the agony in my penis, but I was going to have to live with that for now. Okay, I responded eagerly, rubbing my hands together. How much time do we have?

A muffled cheer came from the other side of the door. Looks like Trudy's done with her show. Samantha explained quietly. If we're going to do something, it has to be in the next couple of minutes. I was struck with sudden acute awareness that the coroner would discover my broken erection, which would make for such interesting reading

on my pending autopsy report. Great, I responded weekly. Let's go over how to kill a man. It wasn't a good plan. In fact, it was a shitty plan. But considering our limited time and resources, it was decidedly kind of okay. So, I asked, still in shock,

it's legal for you to do that on stage? Of course it's not legal, Mr. Namathal. But neither is killing people, and that's not stopping any of us tonight. I swallowed. Right. Um, so the two of you are going to, I mean, right in front of everyone? That isn't going to distract you, is it? Coco asked, irritated.

Well, no, not at all. I'll be focused. It's, um, I, I just didn't know that was physically possible for two people to do to them We're very bendy. Samantha explained brightly. My breath had gotten shallow just thinking about what I was about to see them do, and the growing erection in my pants did nothing to alleviate the penile pain I'd been experiencing. So you'll be ready, Trudy? I asked. Because once things start moving, there is no going back. You can't unring a bell, and you can't unfuck a bear. She nodded, then loaded the chamber of her desert eagle. This is going to be a hell of a

surprise for a lot of people. She answered ominously. To be honest, I was at least 60% sure that I was going to die. But what did I have to go back to? I'd spent most of my life waiting for the opportunity to be great. And when it suddenly landed in my lap, it was all I could do to not piss myself. But the great and lonely die alike. Morticians have clean underwear, and I was fucking pissed at this ace guy. Okay, I'm going to walk into the main room and act like nothing strange. Like I'm just some pathetic loser who paid for sex and has nowhere else to go. Samantha nodded. Don't worry. You'll convince them easily enough, Mr. N. I sat down nervously behind the group of men lining the stage. Nearly all of them had the same

look, young, muscular, confident, and dumb. They started cheering and whistling as Samantha and Coco stepped out from behind a curtain. And now in a very special appearance, Samantha Stardust and Hot Coco who performed the Louisiana Hot Surin. announced a voice on the loudspeaker. The first dollar bills flew on stage as each of them smiled into the spotlight. I was again struck by how beautiful Samantha looked, precisely because she didn't know how to hide it. Keep your eye on the ball.

A voice next to me muttered, under his breath. I turned around to see a man who must have been 40 years older than the rest. His gray eyes bore into mind for just a second before flitting away. Call me Hicks. Don't waste time asking how I know what I know, because I'm only going to tell you what I see. I'm in a room surrounded by a dozen of Aces crew and one lonely man who must own that shitty Yugo in the parking lot.

He's employed, but has nothing better to do on a Tuesday afternoon, which tells me he's an education and bored for the summer. Don't tell me if I'm getting close, he snapped. My blood felt like liquid nitrogen. I didn't move. Ace doesn't like appearing weak, so anyone who tries and fails to fuck him over had better find a way to kill themselves quick.

He sighed. All I know is that I'm going to have a quick chat with the bouncer, who I'm betting you forgot about, on my way out of here. I wouldn't be surprised if my conversation distracts him for a valuable five or ten seconds, just saying. X got up and walked away. Yes, I was in way, way over my head. Then I noticed what was happening on stage. Shit. This was, by far, the kinkiest thing I'd ever seen.

I was disgusted with just how aroused it made me. and amazed by how distracted the crowd found itself. Every one of Ace's men was entranced by what Samantha and Coco were doing on stage. Behind me, I could hear Hex walking out of the door. For better or for worse, it was game time. My shaking knees barely held me as I stood up. Then I nimbly pushed through the crowd, a crowd that was only focused on one part of the room,

a crowd that was very distracted, a crowd that was not prepared for anything extremely dangerous to happen. I took a deep breath, then climbed on stage. Then I snatched Big Maurice right out of Samantha's grip, struggling with both hands to heft a large dildo above my head. What the fuck? They were about to use that, bellowed one angry onlooker. Wordlessly, I dropped Big Maurice and grabbed both women's arms.

Get him! The man screamed as I forced both of them behind the curtain. The AR-15 was flying toward me as I burst through, and I caught it with both hands. Trixie then grabbed a second gun and thrust it into Coco's waiting one. arms. Remember, I shot at Samantha as Trixie passed a third weapon to her. Hold it exactly like I told you and fire it exactly like I told you because we have no room for error. She looked ready to faint. I don't know if I can do this, Mr. Namathol. She whispered. I don't know if I can

kill a man. I lifted the barrel of the gun and aimed at the curtain. Pass her fail, Samantha, and do it now because we'll be way too outnumbered if you don't act. A solitary tear fell down her cheek as the curtain burst open and I pulled the trigger. Movies show gunfights as epic battles of grace and heroism, because we so easily forget that human beings are made of the same raw meat that bleeds when it's still rare. I shot quickly, and a new person fell dead every time I pulled the trigger. Coco and Trixie fired on either side of me, and our opposition fell like bowling pins. It's funny how we have such fear for other human beings, because they face mortality with the

same total certainty that cows us into inaction. Very quickly, there were only two enemies remaining, one on the far left, another on the far right. A 7-10 split. There was no thinking. I chose the left, fired, then turned to the right, knowing that I would be too late. A gunshot rang out before I could pull the trigger. The last man dropped his gun, eyes bulging, and he doubled over. I turned to my right and saw Samantha gawking, slack-jawed at the man she'd just shot.

Fuck, girl. You blasted him right in the dick. Coco gasp. Sure enough, everything below the man's chest was drenched in a deep crimson. He collapsed to the ground, skined parchment white, and stared at me with clear intent. I nodded in response. Then I shot him in the head. You welcome, I answered, before turning back to the women.

Coco stared at the carnage with a gunslinger's eye. Trixie was dazed to the point of seeming placid, and Samantha looked ready to cry. Trixie wandered over to her, wrapped her friend in a hug, and gently rocked Samantha back and forth. We'd done it. and I felt empty. The front door burst open, and I nearly started shooting again before I recognized Hex's voice. Excellent job on the subtle touch. Think anyone will notice? He yelled from outside.

Can I come in without getting shot? My voice sounded distant when I spoke, as though someone else was using my own throat. Yeah, Hex. Come on in. He took a tentative step inside. Thank you for the hospitality, but I can't stay. You shouldn't either. The bouncer, remember him? He didn't seem too fond of risking his neck for his friends, so he's halfway down Route 1913 by now. He stared at me grimly as he folded his arms. Ace will know what you did here very soon.

I would suggest you'd be very far away when that happens. I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. How much time do you think we have? He pursed his lips. Enough so that I'm walking out the door now and not stopping until I'm in Texas. He said as he turned around, that's a lot of dead people on the floor. But A's had more than this nearby. I would assume you've got less than five minutes.

Oh, one more thing. He added, one hand pressed against the door while his head faced outside. Try to kill yourself if you're about to get caught. You'll spare yourself an incredible amount of pain if you do. He stepped into the sunlight before shutting the door behind him. For one second, I was unable to respond. Then I was flying. Coco, how many girls are waiting in the back?

Tell Trudy that we need them out of here now. Trixie, get Samantha moving. Coco stared back at me, one eyebrow raised. You lied to us. Huh? I stopped, heart thudding. You said these guns would kick back when we fired, and that we needed you to operate them.

That didn't happen at all. I looked at her blankly. It convinced you not to kill me, didn't it? She frowned. Let's not get hung up on this one minor detail, because there's a much bigger story here. Besides, I think that shooting all those men is enough to prove I'm a nice guy, I huffed, walking past her.

Now, we have to get the one. the rest of the girls moving. Anyone still here in four minutes is going to die painfully. Coco caught up to me and headed to another door. The rest of the women are in this room. We can head out the back. Enough of us have cars in the parking lot to get everyone the hell out of here. You know you'll have to disappear, right? I asked grimly. Coco didn't respond. Men who go to this length for money never give up. I pressured. You have to go outside, start driving, and never stop. Tell me you understand. Coco gave me a dark look. Then pushed the door open aggressively and stepped inside.

Anxiety was taking its hold on me. We had negative three minutes to play around with, so I rushed through the door after her. Samantha and Trixie followed us in. The former swang precariously in her heels as she tried to hold herself up on shaky knees. Several frightened-looking strippers were huddled on the back of the room. Trudy stood, facing us, a grim expression on her face.

Is everyone out there dead? She asked, a white-knuckled finger on the trigger of her desert eagle. All of them. Coco answered curtly. You agreed to move the girls out while we held them off, Trudy. Our time frame suddenly got a lot shorter, so let's get them going. Change of plans. Trudy answered quietly.

I don't think you understand the gravity of this situation, I yelled back. My blood pressure rising. You need to run and not look back, and every goddamn second we wait decreases our chances of survival. Trudy stared gravely at me. You're forgetting one thing. Then she raised her pistol, pointed it at Coco's head, and fired. A spray of hair, blood, brain, and skull painted the brick wall behind her, and Coco's dead body fell to the ground. Her legs gently twitched in her heels.

I work for Ace, Trudy explained calmly. And we're all going to wait patiently for him right here. So there I was, covered in a fine mist of fresh blood, surrounded by terrified strippers, my trigger finger itching to roar the assault rifle into life, and my blue ball still woefully overlooked. The agony and my penis had dwindled to a dull ache. I was terrified to look at my junk, fearing that I would find a cringe-worthy mess of dark bruising that would forever ruin the appeal of Boisenberry Jam. Drop your weapons!

Trudy yelled authoritatively, swinging her Desert Eagle around at Samantha's forehead. I'd really rather minimize the damage I inflict on Ace's delivery, sweetheart. But I'll paint the walls with your pretty brown hair if that's how the winds are blowing. Samantha dropped the AR-15 like it was a hot dish out of the oven. I realized that I was the last line of defense. The entire operation would depend on me standing up to Trudy. I would have to move quick and think quicker. This would require a blend of brilliant tactics and a heart of iron that accepted smaller losses for the greater good.

You too, dick nuts. Trudy ordered, keeping the pistol aimed at Samantha's forehead. I looked down to my former student, so afraid and helpless. And in that moment, my brain could only perform the mental equivalent of aimlessly scratching its balls. I placed the assault rifle on the floor feeling like a dumbass. You're a dumb ass. Trudy remarked condescendingly. You could have turned that thing on me and been out of here if you had any balls,

but you're way too concerned with impressing your girlfriend. My face flushed, and I could see Samantha turning red. Don't worry. She's not that into you. Trudy pressed meanly. Yeah, Trudy was a bitch. Mr. Pimbley? She called over her shoulder.

A back door opened, and a large, flabby man walked in. Distant parts of his body jiggled every time he stepped. He was completely hair. So when he moved, it was like nothing so much like watching 400 pounds of melty marshmallows coated with a thick layer of peach jello. Mr. Pimbley is the first of Ace's lieutenants to arrive. The rest will follow shortly. I'm leaving now to talk with Ace. Mr. Pimbley will take care of things until you're placed with the other merchandise.

She turned to face me. Except for you. Ace won't be happy with you, whoever you are. He's got a weird thing about genital manipulation when he finds people who put people who are. finds people who piss him off. I swallowed. It has been an unfortunate day for my genitalia, ma'am. She nodded, a hint of pity sweeping over her face,

then flicked her head at Mr. Pimby. The man confidently waved a Sig submachine gun as he oozed through the room, drinking in the women's fear as they eyed his weapon. He waddled toward us. His alternating chins undulated at opposite cadences from one another, before stopping at Samantha. He stared down at her with beady eyes. Before she could react,

He wrapped his trash can lid-sized hand around her lower back, pulled her in, and pressed his tongue against her shoulder. The appendage was fat, dry, and coated in a very thick layer of yellowish-white plaque that left a trail on Samantha's skin as he drew it along her neck, behind her cheek, into her ear, along her temple, and finally across her forehead as her eyes rolled back in a horrified disgust. He grumbled in a voice that was somehow both baritone and falsetto at the same time. Salty! shuddered. Then she turned around and exited through the back door, abandoning us to Mr. Pimby. He was smacking his mouth like a dog who'd gotten into the peanut butter. I shot a look toward Samantha, who was staring at Coco's destroyed body. She was sheet white, and I wanted nothing more

than to tell her that things would be okay, that she would just have to have faith and any other number of great lies. We're trash. She whispered to the dozen women on the other side of the room. Just trash, nothing more. People throw away a dozen of forgotten items each day. because they only make room for what can't be replaced. Her voice grew stronger. And that's possible because we allow them to convince us of that lie. Samantha's breaths came in ragged and halting gasps. Coco chose to stop believing that.

Coco's dead. One of the dozen said from behind Mr. Pimby. And what the fuck do you think is waiting for us at the end of this? Samantha's voice was getting shakier and somehow stronger at the same time. The only difference for Coco. is that she showed us how it can be different. She stared defiantly at Mr. Pimby, who seemed more confused than anything else.

It can't be different. Another anonymous voice countered. It can. Samantha shouted back. The fiery response seemed to surprise even her, but she couldn't seem to stop. This fucking creep? She pointed at an angry-looking Mr. Pimby.

Is going to lead us to the exact same fate as Coco. And we're going to let him, because we're afraid of ending up like Coco. How the fuck does that make any sense? Silence. Samantha glared at the girls with the look that could cut diamonds. Option one. We follow this pile of fecal residues so far deep into AIS's plans

that they'll never find what's left of our bodies. Option two. We all move on him right now, knowing that some will die while others live. Though even the worst off choose a better fate than passively accepting how the world expects us, to be discarded. I had a very brief but very clear flashback of the final project that Samantha had given

in her last week of her senior year. It was an impassioned soliloquy that Lago gives about the nature of good, evil, and choice. Her performance had reminded me of why I picked up teaching, long before the years of student entitlement and apathy had left me wishing for summer break ten months of every year. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Trixie screamed. She charged Mr. Pimby with an air of fury that certainly drew on more. pain than just this moment. He stared at her in shock. Then he pointed and fired. The gun echoed

through the room, drowning out the cacophony of screaming that lurked somewhere beyond my anguished ear drums. I looked down to see Trixie cradling her shattered legs, screaming in agony. Mr. Pimby lifted his weapon, aiming at her head. The shot missed. He stared in shock at Samantha, who had punched his hand away, momentarily sparing Trixie's life. Furious, he shoved Samantha to the ground and took aim at her chest. I reacted before thinking, pushing the gun away from her and sending bullets into the ceiling. His tiny eyes narrowed at me in complete fury, and I knew that I had less than a second to act. I threw a right cross directly into his chest. Have you ever punched a house? Imagine that house was made of glue and snot, but had the same

mass as a multi-ton structure that was anchored into the ground. Punching Mr. Pimby was like punching such an edifice. He smiled. What he lacked in teeth was made up for by the power of his breath, which I assumed drew deep air from the opposite end of his digestive track. Mr. Pimby grabbed my shoulder with an iron grip and pulled me tightly into his gut. I really, really didn't want to die between his potato sack bosoms, but was powerless against his mass. Then he faltered and stumbled, and fell, sending me sprawling onto the floor. I looked up in shock. The dozen women had descended on him, overwhelming him as one, and he was powerless against their mass. Samantha dove at DeFray, then pulled back with his sig in her hands.

Stand back, ladies. I don't want you getting hit. But it was too late. a lot of blood. A good bit of screaming, a fair amount of squelching, and the occasional roar added to the confusion of a dozen strippers clinging at the fattest man I'd ever seen. Move away! I screamed. I can't get a clear shot! Samantha had disappeared into the fray, and I couldn't make heads or tails of the pasty pasta of limbs that flew around the scrum. Then one hand flew above the rest. It alone remained left, holding steady as it displayed its trophy to a candid world. At first, I could not understand what I was seeing. It looked like a deflated arm that had shrunk in 30 sizes too small. Then I understood. Then I dry heaved.

Girl, you tore his dick right off. One voice screamed. Put my dick back on. Mr. Pimby gasped and breathless shock. Are you going to put my kneecap back on first? Trixie screamed. She did not look good. After having lost so much blood, she was barely holding her head up. The other women seemed to draw in her energy, diving deeper into the lasagna that used to be a fat man. With his dick now gone, one rogue hand reached between his legs like they were searching a Thanksgiving turkey for the giblets. Mr. Pimby wailed as his bladder was yanked out, tossed into the air, and broke open on the ground like a thinly stretched water balloon. His screams turned sharply into a whistling honk, and it soon became clear why. His nose had been cut off. The rubbery nub bounced to the ground,

and my balls withdrew into my torso, as it bounced toward me like an erratic football. The nearest stripper stopped it with her shoe. Then, smiling widely, she brought the pointed heel her stiletto down upon the large, severed nose. Have you ever stared at a gruesome car wreck, begging your eyes to turn away, but unable to stop your visual feast on the carnage? I felt the same way as she slowly brought her weight down on the nose. As she applied more and more pressure,

each of the hundred pores erupted at once. Like a pit of writhing snakes, everyone gushed to curling, twirling mass of pure white pus. They reached out, found each other, and grouped together in progressively heavier clumps, until they sloughed off like collected glass of snow that were no longer able to support their own oily weight. This was the moment when I learned the survival instinct that I should have understood.

All along at its deepest level, it was the lesson that terrified and haunted me in a way that has no chance of being unlearned or hope of being recovered from. Don't underestimate the women in your life. Then it happened. Remember the Tontan scene from the Empire Strikes Back? A human being can open up the same way. And that's how the story of Mr. Pimby ended. I screamed to no avail.

There was no way to get everyone's attention, and there was no time to spare. So I aimed the AR-15 at the ceiling of fire. Everyone froze and looked at me. If we'd run out of the building now, we just might slip past the rest of Aces Men. They stared at me in shock. I nearly had a panic attack. We had come so close, but we're about to lose the opportunity as Aces Men descended on us. The memory of the pain in my crotch and the visual of what had just fallen before me

swirled in my head to make one thing very, very clear. I hadn't yet learned to experience the level of fear that was appropriate for what was coming my way. And we had less than a minute before it was too late. Run! Now! And then they moved. Amid shouts of, we can take my car, and we'll wash off the blood at my place.

I found Samantha. We've got to get Trixie to a hospital. I instructed breathlessly, but we're going to need a backstory. Tell me, where in the Zoom room can I find a big pile of drugs and money? Samantha leaned against Trixie's car in the gathering. twilight. The parking lot of Rapids Medical Center was fairly quiet, but her outfit of stripper heels and a bloodstreet pink silk robe was more conspicuous than I would have preferred. Tell me the story again.

I instructed with a voice that sounded calmer than I felt. She took a long drag of her cigarette before removing it with shaky fingers. Samantha remained fixated on the horizon, not caring enough to look at me or anything but the falling sky, and I was overtaken by the broken beauty of a person that can only shine through cracks of endurable, yet irreparable damage. Trudy killed Aces men because she assumed they were heavy with cash. She helped herself to the Coke hidden in the back office as well. The rest of the girls were terrified, but Trixie stood up to her and got shot. As proof of our loyalty, we've got two kilos of coke and $1,913 cash locked in the trunk.

She tapped the back of the car twice, still staring out at the sky. I'm going to drop it somewhere safe for Ace's guy to find, then go into hiding. Anything Trudy says is a lie. I nodded. You're sure the other woman will stick to the story? She finally turned to me. You saw how strong they could be when looking out for each other. She dropped the cigarette to the asphalt and grounded out with her heel.

Every time I've seen a man try to play women against each other, he's regretted it. And no, getting a dick ripped off is not the worst outcome I've seen. She sighed. Don't worry. We're good. No telling what Trudy will do, but she's smart enough to stay away for now. She crinkled her nose. What about you, Mr. N?

I smiled sadly, but I wasn't sure why. Well, Trudy specifically said she didn't know who I was, so I'm just going to make sure trouble doesn't have a chance to find me. I'll be staying away from the Zoom room from now on. My chest got suddenly tight. and my armpits unleashed a sudden deluge of sweat despite the gathering night. Speaking of changing things, I folded my arms. Samantha looked up at me, and I could see the hope in her.

It was locked behind years of objectification and dismissal, but peaked between those bonds of worldly baggage with less faith, but more potential than it had ever known. I, um, what I saw in you, what I felt in you, um, in your actions. It was beautiful in ways that people had. haven't had the ability to tell you yet. I tried to smile without looking like a creep, but I probably did look like a creep. So I gave her a blank, deadpaned look. A shy smile crept up her face. Mr. N., are you asking me out? The word shot adrenaline through my chest like a molten bullet,

and I might have peed just a little. Yeah, yep. She covered her mouth in the cutest way. Oh, wow. Mr. N., I have a boyfriend. It could never happen. Oh, yeah. I guess that makes sense. I was silent for half a second, but that was way too long. Right, clearly. You're a handsome young lady.

Of course you would. Why did I call her handsome? For fuck's sake. I really was making an ass of myself. Too bad. Because, well, if you didn't have a boyfriend, maybe? I asked, leaving a room to spare the tiniest fragment of my dignity. She tried to hide her cringe.

What? No, Mr. N., You're like 40 years older than I am. Forty years older. How old do you think I am? She balked. Please don't answer that. Look, I'm sorry that I misconstrued things.

Mr. N., you know that strippers are paid to fake interest, right? I winced. Yeah, I know. It's just that I got the vibe you were. She shook her head. Now I'm making serious eye contact. No. No, got it.

Not even a little? None. That would be so fucking weird. This is weird. She paused for a moment. I think we should get out of here now. Yeah, that's probably for the best. I let out a long, slow breath.

We have to leave Trixie's car. I'll give you a ride. I suppose that we'll make for an awkward trip, right? It was supposed to be a joke, but I sounded like a petulant child. It was a very silent, very awkward car ride. I dropped her off and never saw her again. It was for the best.

Then I went home. Not every ending is glorious. and not every ending is tragic. Are you more bored than you usually find yourself on a Tuesday night? Casey asked me with a mixture of teasing and judgment. Why would you assume that? I responded, dodging the question to which she had clearly figured out the correct answer. Because you're on the phone with your ex-wife to discuss financials, and you could have hung up 20 minutes ago.

It sounds like you've got no one else to talk to. I was very glad that she couldn't see my skin glowing red. Well, you finished talking financials with your ex-husband 20 minutes ago, so I don't think that your nightlife is exactly thriving either, I shot back. She sighed. Nope. It's about as boring as it was when we were still married. So it looks like you were wrong when you said you'd be better off without me, I retorted. She sounded defeated.

You know, you're right. Maybe marriage isn't about finding a perfect match. Maybe it's about finding a person who understands that neither of you will do anything great and just having someone to endure that realization with. The pause was long and painful, so I reached for something to say. I believed that I was going to change the world every time I watched Stand and Deliver. She sighed. I know.

I never liked that movie. Another pause. Well, thanks for sparing me that knowledge when we were together. I never knew. Well, I don't want to take from your experience. She took a deep breath. It was worth it. Enduring the movie to see you happy.

Thanks, I answered, genuinely touched. Thanks for talking to me. She responded. I really do appreciate having someone to talk to. This is embarrassing, but what the hell? You know me better than anyone. The truth is that nearly all of my intimate contact these days comes from strippers. How pathetic is that?

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