Sunday, July 12, 2009


"He tried one lunge with the ice pick and I broke his wrist with the barrel of the .38 then laid it across the side of his head before he could let out a scream. He went down in a heap like dropping an old laundry bag, the pick rolling from his fingers. It was a nice new sliver of steel, that pick. You could buy them in any dime store and when you loosened the handle and sunk it into somebody you pulled back all your fingerprints and left pain and slow death. Breau and Kung had gone that way. Lang had given it to Stig in the spine and Stig had been a paralytic from the neck down ever since, vegetating in that cottage in Hermitage.

So I broke every finger of Lang's hands, too, then stitched him up the side of each cheek so he'd never be invisible in a crowd again. I opened his belt, pulled his pants and shorts down and waited the two minutes until he started to wake up, holding the point of the pick right over the two goodie sacs, and just as a groan wheezed through his lips and his eyes opened and rolled toward mine I drove the ice pick through those lumps of tissue into the rubber tiled floor and the frenzied yell of horror he started never got past the sharp hiss of his sucked-in breath before he fainted."

from THE ERECTION SET by Mickey Spillane (with slight adaptation).


Anonymous said...

You fucking fruitcake.

Anonymous said...

Fantasies of icepicking a pair of balls. That's pretty gay, Chris. You need to get out more.

Lindsay Hutton said...

Chris, send me your address and I'll get you hooked up with a Bruce A cd via Angel CC.


Christopher Stigliano said...

Uh, Mickey Spillane gay??? You need to get out more, anon.