"Sure, Tony, sure. And I don't mean nothin' by this . . ." He gave a curt nod to Dr. Prouty who immediately stepped up behind Tony and snapped him in the side of the neck with a Bush automatic injector full of tranquilizers.

Tony staggered a moment, then was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Vinchetti's wife had been previously "prepared." Naked, of course, she sat strapped to an examination chair, her pretty head belted back against the adjustable head rest. Terror sheened her impeccable white skin and jutted her b.r.e.a.s.t.s out like ripe peaches above the chest strap. Tony, too, had been strapped to a chair, though far less intricately.

"You're a genius, Doc, a friggin' genius!" Vinchetti complimented, rubbing his hands together.

Dr. Prouty rolled his eyes.

Neither victim could make much in the way of vocal protest, just grunts from Tony and raving whimpers from Vinchetti's wife. No, their mouths had not been stapled together like Hymie and Darcya" Vinchetti like variation. Instead...

Pretty proficient work If I may say so myself, the doctor thought. He'd run a half-inch-wide esophageal catheter down the throat of Vinchetti's wife, after which he'd instigated what you might call a stomach-pump in reverse. He'd also, quite skillfully, performed a modified ileostomy on her upper-left abdomenal quardant. In medical terms, the procedure (unlike the more familiar colostomy), circ.u.mvented the mid-small-intestinal process (known as the jejunum) through a surgically constructed stoma (or aperture) after which the small intestine was severed at this proximal point and st.i.tched to the inside of the stoma Dr. Prouty's modification, however, bypa.s.sed this final step, and merely extricated the severed intestinal length.

In less-than-medical terms, he'd cut a slit in Mrs. Vinchetti's belly, reeled out some gut, and snipped it.

He'd left the lower end of the intestine to dangle. The higher end he'd stapled to Tony's lips via the McCrath Model SS40-C.

"Looks like a hose runnin' from her stomach to Tony's yap," Vinchetti observed.

"Yes, a ... hose," Dr. Prouty offered, "from which chyme, mucosa, and partially digested intestinal material will empty."

Another familiar Vinchetti chuckle. "The low-down p.r.i.c.k likes stickin' his d.i.c.k into my wife's s.h.i.+t, let's see how he likes eatin' it huh?'

"Precisely."

"It's almost like you hooked her a.s.s up to his mouth!"

"In a manner of speaking, that's correct sir. However, I thought you would enjoy a variation of that description. What I'm referring too, of course, is my decision to transect the jejunum rather than, say, the sigmoid colon."

"Huh?' Vinchetti expressed his incomprehension.

"It's the large intestine that wilts the majority of moisture from the feces, sir. But severing the digestive tract at the jejunum will detour that effect."

Vinchetti's brow creased. "She's gonna s.h.i.+t in his mouth, right, Doc?'

"Yes, but with intestinal matter that hasn't been fully subjected to the complete digestive process. What voids into Tony's mouth will be essentially diarrhea."

Vinchetti cracked his hands yet again. "The Hershey Squirts! Neat-o!"

"Yes, sir," the doctor continued to elaborate, "and given my previous preparation of goat cheese, raw garlic, baked beans, and canned dog food, it should make for an interesting mix." (After the ileostomy, Dr. Prouty has emptied this mish-mash of ingredients into Mrs. Vinchetti's stomach through the esopliageal tube by means of a surgical aspirator pump.) Tony's mute face began to redden, as Mrs. Vinchetti's bowels began to move.

"He'll have to eat it," Prouty said, "or he'll drown."

The gray-pink length of intestine began to squirm. m.u.f.fled gargling could be heard, and Tony's cheeks billowed hugely at each blast of diarrhea.

"Gorgeous, Doc. You're a true star." Vinchetti patted Prouty on the back and led him out of the room.

Dr. Prouty tried to rein his enthusiasm, to control himself. "So, um, we're done now, sir?"

"With them two? Sure. We'll let Tony chug on that for a while before I have the boys feed 'em both to the pits."

Warm joy surged through Prouty's veins. "So then ... I can go now?'

"Sure. Doc, you can go just like I promiseda"

Prouty nearly squealed in delight.

"a"after pigs can fly and f.u.c.kin' Santa Claus come down the chimney to hold my d.i.c.k for me when I p.i.s.s," Vinchetti finished.

"When bears wear funny hats and the pope s.h.i.+ts in the woods."

Prouty's heart seemed to drop to the floor. He stood and stared. "But... sir. You saida"

"Yeah, I know, I said you could leave if you f.u.c.ked Hymie in the a.s.s and got your nut before Tony." Another slap on the back. "But there's one thing you gotta learn, paisan. My word ain't worth a tick on a dead dog's b.a.l.l.s. Never trust a goombah slime-bag mafia f.u.c.k like me. Doc." Vinchetti walked on, belting laughter, but then he turned and winked.

"Me, you, and that fancy stapler of yours? We're gonna have ourselves a hi of fun in the years to come. Later, Doc! Have a great day!"

Dr. Prouty watched his boss disappear down the hallway.

Oh, well. It could be worse. There was always the hook.

end.