Arnzstigation Days

Raw Dog Screaming Press editrix Jennifer Barnes has issued a unique challenge to fans of Michael A. Arnzen (100 Jolts, The Gorelets Omnibus) in commemoration of his "Fridge of the Damned" fridge magnets reaching their main Kickstarter funding goal and to encourage funding of the stretch goal for nice tins to hold said magnets. Quoting from the Facebook event page:

"Now through the end of January post a short story, poem, piece of art, excerpt from a longer work instigated by Arnzen or even a blog reflection on his influence. Then post a link here, on the RDSP FB page or send it directly to books@rawdogscreaming.com. I will share it through our page, our twitter account and collect the links in a permanent blog entry on the RDSP blog. This will support the cause and also showcase your project.

"The catch—you've got to include a link to the Kickstarter: http://tinyurl.com/b4zkr5m. Invisible slimy bonus points to those who include some explanatory text such as: Be an instigator, support the Fridge of the Damned poetry magnet kickstarter."

Now for my offering: an untitled short/flash piece based on Arnzen's "Twisted Prompts for Sicko Writers (31)" from December 30, 2012. WARNING: NSF Work, Lunch, and probably our continued friendship. First the prompt (I've highlighted the one I selected):


Begin with a Woman…
+ Begin with a woman…defiantly shaking a phantom (or prosthetic) arm at the heavens.
+ Begin with a woman…requesting plastic surgery to make her something LESS (beautiful, endowed, perfect, etc).
+ Begin with a woman…who reads more than she should into her ‘time of the month.’
+ Begin with a woman…discovering something alive in the meat drawer.
+ Begin with a woman…in love with a man BECAUSE he survived her murder attempt.
+ Begin with a woman…applying mascara to a corpse.
+ Begin with a woman…alienated by the newborn creature in her arms.
+ Begin with a woman…baking a dangerous cake.
+ Begin with a woman…and end with a man.

And the story:

There's just something about a man who refuses to die.

I've tried, really I have! Poison? Shrugs it off. Bullets? No more than mosquito bites. Immolation, irradiation, blunt force trauma, asphyxiation, exsanguination, vivisection, he just won't stay down.

And I love him all the more for it. His inability to die, his appetite for pain make him so much more interesting than other, lesser men.

I sometimes wonder what it's like for him. When we make love and he allows me my fantasies or I indulge his. Like the time he let me blow out his skull as he came (my idea,) or when I cut off his balls as he was ejaculating (his idea.) Is there a line between pleasure and pain for him? Does the little death of orgasm compare to those moments when I force his soul from his body? Is there any difference between the two, really?

For a woman of my peculiar tastes he is the perfect partner. He is willing to do anything for me, and I am willing to do anything for him. If he wants to be choked with his own intestines, that's fine. As long as I can take him from behind with my special strap-on (the blacksmith called it his masterpiece.)

It's so nice to have a man you can murder over and over again with no consequences. So stimulating.

Judge me if it makes you happy. But until you've experienced an explosive orgasm while squeezing a man's heart to the point his cock is as hard as diamond and you're massaging ten out of twelve pints of his blood into your skin you've really got nothing to say to me.

Or you can say something...

But then I'll have to kill you.