He runs a hand over the stone wall. The feel reminds me of touching the girls’ liver. Smooth and slimy. His eyes roll back and he rolls his head around and around as he walks. Art falls back against the wall and a smile creeps onto his lips, an erection growing as he thinks about it.
“Quinn, Quinn, full of gin. Her double chin is stuck in a garbage bin,” Art whispers. Then smiles.
“Quinn, Quinn, full of gin. Her double chin is stuck in a garbage bin,” Art repeats, getting louder.
“Quinn, Quinn, full of gin! Her double chin was pulled out of a garbage bin!” Art screams, his echoes bouncing off of the walls. He lets out a manic chuckle, hitting his head repeatedly against the stone wall, whispering the last phrase over and over while closing his eyes. Then he opens them and stops in midsentence.
Art looks down the tunnel and sees a black figure coming towards him. Art whispers the phrase once.
“Hello? This is the Davidson County sheriff, I heard screaming!”
“A copper,” Art says and turns to leave, but stops. The sensation of feeling the girls’ intestines and ovaries sent shivers of pleasure over his skin, making his eyes close. A light filled the tunnel. Art slowly backs up towards the copper who was meeting him in the middle.
“Sir, I am a sheriff, what’s going on here?” A smile dances on Art’s lips as he hums the rhyme.
“Sir, turn around.” Art starts skipping backwards toward the man and then jumps, turning around in midair, landing loudly on the stone ground causing the sheriff to drop his flashlight.
The copper draws his gun and points it at Art.
“Stay where you are and put your hands on the back of your head!”
“Quinn, Quinn, full of sin. She liked to touch boys’ foreskin,” Art said, smiling at the thought, and shakes all of his body like a dog.
“What did you say, sir?” Art takes a step toward him and the officer takes the safety off.
“Art awakes like a snake to the smell of a nice heart-steak!” Art screams. The officer falls backward from the loud echoing and the gun fires. Art runs full force toward the man with only one thing on his mind.
“Art shakes with a start as he touches little Quinn’s still beating heart!” Art screams, feeling his tendons pop out of his neck. The copper raises his gun to fire again, but Art kicks it out of his hand, feeling the copper’s arm break beneath his soled foot.
“Art, Art, always ready to outsmart,” Art laughs. The copper holds his arm and desperately tries to stand up. Art circles him and kicks him square in the side of the head. Art feels the crunch of his jaw. The man cries out in pain, trying to fend Art off with his still-good arm.
“Art likes her organs as his cohort so he keeps little Quinn’s vaginal tube in a quart,” Art says, laughing. He can’t wait to get home to jack-off in it again.
Art pulls out his knife and looks at the sheriff whose face is beginning to swell.
“Art loves organs.”