Ok, so we start out in this basement. It’s a really grey basement. And the camera is holding on the grey walls because it’s all stygian and shit. Like there’s nothing but grey. Overwhelmingly grey. It’s an ashy grey but in some parts it’s splotchy and dark like this has happened before. Close up on the bricks. We don’t want to see the washer and dryer.

Pan to the stairs; two guys come in dragging a chick. The girl is disheveled and she’s crying. She’s got a mole on her left cheek and a nose ring. Her hair is green. Green. Ok, her hair is brown. Her hair is a mess like she’s been in a bar talking to some cool dudes who didn’t laugh when she said that Avril Lavigne was punk, damnit. She was being ironic so maybe they should have laughed but they took her seriously. I mean, she probably said something about feminist icon for pre-pubescent girls which is about the same thing as punk.

She’s crying and she’s saying “Please, let me go. I don’t know you. Please, do it to that bitch Kathy.”

Then they punch her. They are laughing about it. And they hit her again. Every time she gets more weepy until she just shuts off. Yes, like a robot. I don’t know. Ok, she looks at the camera and she’s a blank like all the shit in her life and all the bad times just lead up to this. She doesn’t care about Kathy or her parents or her bitch older brother Todd who keeps fucking her boyfriend like she doesn’t know. She is not giving the director the finger. Blank. Totally blank. Like you gave up. Come on, Tanya. Work with me here.

Ok, now the Big Guy. Yes, that’s you Joe. I know you lost weight. You’re still the Big Guy. Look at Louis. Does Louis look like he’s going to be the Big Guy. No, I don’t think you’re fat. Can we get on with it?

Ok, now the Big Guy. I can’t call you Joe. Oh yeah, that would be great. A Snuff Film starring Joey Friedman of 154 Eastwood Lane—how the hell do you think it’s going to sell then? Ok, fine. Fine. Joe. Joey Friedman of 154 Eastwood Lane whose Bar Mitzvah was only four years ago and will be celebrating the anniversary with friends and family at the Hyatt on June 3 is going to rip her blouse. The chick’s blouse.

He’s supposed to be the big guy. No, you are an anonymous victim. Yeah, that shit about your gay brother and Kathy were just for you. Your motivation. Fine. Joey Friedman rips Tanya’s blouse. It comes right off. Right off. The buttons are on the other side. Joey Friedman is a fucking moron. Ok, Carl rips her blouse. It’s my shirt, dammit. You can rip it off. Yes, she’s wearing a man’s shirt. Because she’s a fucking whore, that’s why. Not you Tanya, the character. The character of the anonymous Avril Lavigne-loving victim with the gay brother; whose name just happens to be Tanya.

I know you don’t like Avril Lavigne. That’s not the point. Ok, Carl holds her down and Joey rips off her blouse. Rip it! I didn’t say he unbuttons it button by button. Yes, I know that you love slow porn. You told everyone in Pre-Calc. No. Mary was not impressed. No one was impressed. Ok, Shannon Blake agreed with you, but Shannon agrees with anything perverted. Because she’s Shannon.

Ok, so Tanya takes her own damn blouse off because her rapist murderers are fucking incompetent and then she kicks one and goes back to crying. Come on, you can cry. Remember your dead puppy. Mr. Mittens. Puppy. Old cat. Wasn’t he so cute when he used to puke on the carpet?

Tanya is silently accepting her fate. Joey is pulling off her pants and she’s kicking. Fuck! Tanya! Joey is now bunched over because she kicked him in the balls. That’s not funny.

How the hell do you think Joey is going to do anything like that? Ok, now Carl, dinky little Carl who couldn’t beat up a puppy. Or Mr. Mittens for that matter. Carl is now ripping off her jeans and she’s kicking but she’s MISSING his balls. And Joey is holding her. Because everyone can see that she could easily beat both of you to death.

And now she’s in her underwear. And Joey rips off her bra. Ok, Joey carefully unhooks her bra because it’s one of her nice lacy ones and she doesn’t want to have to buy a new one for the weekend because Tom Paulson finally asked her out. But, of course, she’s going to help edit this fucker to get rid of all the times she’s stopped filming to interrupt me.

Joey, are you ok? Do you want some ice? Maybe you should sit down. Look at Tanya. She’s naked. Sit down. How hard did you kick him?

Do you want to go home? I mean, I might be able to get my little brother to take your place. He’s 15. He’d love to do this. You sure? Really? Good. Poor Yosef is going to have to wait before he sees live breasts.

Struggle. Push them up to the camera. They look good. Perky. Small but lively. Don’t cover them. I’m sorry. Tanya. You’re like the sister I never had. And I fucked your brother. Seriously. Shut up, Carl. Ok. Carl, put your dick in her mouth. Now. Come on. No, she won’t bite it off. She will do as she’s told because it’s a snuff film and she’s the passive victim. Victim. You’re a victim. Stop laughing at Carl. They all look funny. Ok, slap her with it. I saw it on Bang Bus. Stop laughing. You’re the victim.

Nothing Mom. No, don’t come down here. We’re filming a scene. For Theater class. Tanya, Joey and Carl. I don’t know. You guys want to stay for dinner?

Can we get to the murder part? No. You don’t want to rape her. You only get off when you see her eyes go dead. Like now. Now. Come on, Tanya. No. Not cross-eyed. Dead. Like nothing there. Add 423 to 536 in your head and divide it by 3.

There you go.

You got the fake knife. Joey, stop it. Ok, get her on the floor. Joey push her onto the floor. Sit on her tits. No. Here. Tanya, let Joey put his hands on you. Now fall. Joey keep your hands on her when she does it. Oh, shit. Are you ok? Yeah, that looked real. Damn. You sure?

Now Joey you wrap your hands around her throat. Tanya, move your head up and down like he’s strangling you. Stage combat. The “victim” leads the motion. Ok, Carl, take out the knife. Check it first. It’s dull. Is the blood packet in place? Push it in once. It’s fine. It just looks like you used it before. You stab her in the stomach. Tanya! Scream! Joey, put your hands over her mouth. Keep them there. Ok, close up on Tanya. Eyes wide. Eyes wider. Wider. Ok. That’s wide enough. You look like Marty Feldman. Ok, camera on Carl. Carl, stab. Stab again. And now just keep on stabbing. Ok. Cut. Here’s some corn syrup. It’s black and white. Now rub that all over her. And action. Good. Stab her again. One more time.

Let go. Ok, Tanya is dead. Keep your eyes wide open. It’s creepier that way. Fine, let’s see. No, put your tongue back in your mouth. I don’t care what your dead cat looked like. Mouth open. Good. Good.

You can wash up in the sink. You guys staying for dinner? Ok, Carl you can borrow my shirt but it would look big on you. You’re a short guy. It will take some time to make money, remember. It’s supposed to be an underground film where we really kill a chick so does it matter? Don’t worry, my dad’s a lawyer and it’s not like anyone is ever going to find out. I have connections. I told you, connections. It’s all underground and the kind of assholes that buy these things aren’t going to be advertising their shit. I’ll split the money fours ways like we agreed. Don’t worry. You ok, Joey? Tanya, give Joey a hug. It looks like he’s going to cry.

# # #

Snuff by Tim Lieder
originally published in the Winter 2010 print edition

 

 


Tim Lieder has been published in Silverthought and Everyday Fiction. His story “Bop Kabala and Communist Jazz” is slated for the third issue of Shock Totem. Additionally, Tim owns and operates Dybbuk Press through which he’s edited and published eight titles including God Laughs When You Die by Michael Boatman and Teddy Bear Cannibal Massacre. His latest title is a multi-author horror anthology based on the Bible entitled She Nailed a Stake Through His Head.

For more of Tim's work,
visit his Big Pulp author page

 

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Ted Bundy's Beetle

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