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True Monsters

Judas X. Machina

Copyright Judas X. Machina 2012

Published at Smashwords



FEBRUARY

TUESDAY

10 P.M.



Phillip Cross, industrialist, multimillionaire, Buddhist, owner of three high class restaurants, two car dealerships, self proclaimed adviser to the city mayor, and plastic surgery aficionado, exited the elevator and threw his bubble tea into the wastebasket beside his penthouse door. He placed his thumb on the scanner above the knob and a tiny mechanical click notified him to open the door. Brushing dust off his thumb he sauntered into the living room. He paused to admire his belongings, soaking in the Oriental inspired decor; the giant Buddha statue in the corner, the rock garden coffee table, the koi pond glass floor, the garden waterfall in the opposing corner, the painted ceiling of a Chinese dragon Fibonacci spiral centered around the skylight.

"I'm sure many would find it all lovely." said a voice directly behind Cross. Cross turned violently and looked into darkness before he collapsed.


Ice splashed across his face and a thick stench filled his nostrils. Cross sputtered, gagging on the taste of gasoline. He tried to open his eyes but the fumes burned out everything but a hazy mess.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Cross demanded, trying to rise. His head was taped to what felt like a 2X4, and his hands were taped palms up to his thighs. His whole body was restrained. He looked down and felt rather than saw that he had been placed into the lotus position. As his vision cleared he looked up into the smiling face of Buddha. Cross yelled again, striking authority into his tone, "Who the fuck do you think you are? "

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