2003-01-17 | SLEEPER HOLD (WIN BY SUBMISSION)

Four armed men wearing camouflage appeared out of the basement.

They were speaking a language that I couldn't decipher.

One of them gestured for me to take my shoes off.

He made me wear mukluks.

Then he tied me up and put a sock in my mouth.

Steve was still in the basement, and I could hear him yelling and mumbling simultaneously.

They had "socked" him, too apparently.

The armed men put on some really hardcore heavy metal music on my stereo.

But the singer was singing in the same language as the men.

When it came to the chorus, the men would shout it in unison and gesture towards the heavens, as if the song was leading them to do whatever it is they were going to do.

One man left, and when he returned he had gasoline, and one of those long red lighters.

I could picture my mom wondering why I hadn't called her in awhile.

I wondered which people would remember me, and which would just remember one day, "what happened to 'that one guy'?"

Panic sunk in at first, but after a few hours, I had already absorbed every emotion possible, and had room for nothing else.

I was ready to die.

It was sort of liberating.

I felt so clear.

The sweat that was soaking my body, started to feel like an ice cold, soothing dip into serene waters, like the ones I used to take in the public pool in Tulsa, when I was growing up.

I could no longer feel the pain of the bruises on my face from the slamming of the butt of the gun, or my skin peeling off from the tight rope cuffing my wrists together.

I started remembering all of my favorite songs, and began to sing them in my head. I was relaxed already, so I don't know what made me do this. I guess the peace of knowing my destiny was just making me want to sing.

Suddenly I started to sing "My Life" by the Beatles.

Tears started rolling down my face.

I closed my eyes as I reached the chorus, and suddenly, a gentle hand put a cloth over my face, and gently tied it on the back of my head, as a blindfold.

As soon as I finished the last line of the song, I heard 4 gunshots.

When the shooting was over I could still hear Steve moaning from the basement.

I yelled out "hello", to listen for signs of anybody elses presence in the living room. I couldn't see anything.

After a couple minutes, I stumbled to the basement.

I tried to open up the door, but they had it locked from the inside.

I backed up, then I charged with all my might and shouldered my way through the door.

Steve was right behind it, so I kind of knocked him down.

He was okay.

Just a little shaken up.

He used his fingers that were behind his back to untie my rope, and in a few minutes we were both untied, and I could see again.

The first thing Steve said after I took the sock out of his mouth was "you look awful".

We were both just shocked.

We didn't say much after that.

He could tell by the way I was looking at him, that he didn't look to great either.

We didn't know whether to leave through the basement, or go back upstairs and see what the hell happened.

Like idiots, we decided to creep back towards the living room.

The silence was haunting.

But also kind of beautiful, after the bizarre day we had been a part of.

We reached the living room, and we were shocked to see the armed men laying down in a square formation.

The police later said that the four men stood in a square, and each aimed their guns at one other person, then simultaneosly shot each other.

Some kind of suicide ritual?

Or a sacrifice to John, Paul, George and Ringo?

Who knows?

All I remember is that when Steve and I were standing there, we were just wondering why we were still here.

We had been prepared for death, as if it was our only option.

Even though we had accepted it, once it was over, we were relieved.

I thought knowing my destiny was freeing, but that was nothing compared to finding out you had a second chance.

I'll always remember being in a daze in that living room, and asking Steve "whaaat hhappened?"

All Steve could say was:

"ARE WE DEAD YET?"

Then after a few minutes of complete silence he said "Alex?....why are you wearing mukluks?...."

It was a valid question. I wish I had an answer, but I didn't. And to this day the police have no idea why either. The men weren't from Alaska. They weren't Eskimoes. Turns out they were from Iowa. They had made up their own language to disguise themselves, apparently.

But why would they do that if they were planning on dying that day anyway? Some things are meant to be left to the imagination. Makes life more interesting.

Not that I need any help in that department anymore.

- premature ejaculation | tantra +