He’d run a half-inch-wide esophageal catheter down the throat of Vinchetti’s wife, after which he’d instigated what you might call a stomach pump in reverse. He’d also, quite skillfully, performed a modified ileostomy on her upper-left abdominal quadrant. In medical terms, the procedure (unlike the more familiar colostomy), circumvented the mid-small-intestinal process (known as the jejunum) through a surgically constructed stoma (or aperture) after which the small intestine was severed at this proximal point and stitched to the inside of the stoma. Dr. Prouty’s modification, however, bypassed this final step, and merely extricated the severed intestinal length.
In less-than-medical terms, he’d cut a slit in Mrs. Vinchetti’s belly, reeled out some gut, and snipped it.
He’d left the lower end of the intestine to dangle. The higher end he’d stapled to Tony’s lips via the McCrath Model SS40-C.
“Looks like a hose runnin’ from her stomach to Tony’s yap,” Vinchetti observed.
“Yes, a…hose,” Dr. Prouty offered, “from which chyme, mucosa, and partially digested intestinal material will empty.”
Another familiar Vinchetti chuckle. “The low-down prick likes stickin’ his dick into my wife’s shit, let’s see how he likes eatin’ it, huh?”
“Precisely.”
“It’s almost like you hooked her ass up to his mouth!”
“In a manner of speaking, that’s correct, sir. However, I thought you would enjoy a variation of that description. What I’m referring too, of course, is my decision to transect the jejunum rather than, say, the sigmoid colon.”
“Huh?” Vicnhetti expressed his incomprehension.
“It’s the
Vinchetti’s brow creased. “She’s gonna shit in his mouth, right, Doc?”
“Yes, but with intestinal matter that hasn’t been fully subjected to the complete digestive process. What voids into Tony’s mouth will be essentially diarrhea.”
Vinchetti cracked his hands yet again. “The Hershey Squirts! Neat-o!”
“Yes, sir,” the doctor continued to elaborate, “and given my previous preparation of goat cheese, raw garlic, baked beans, and canned dog food, it should make for an interesting mix.” (After the ileostomy, Dr. Prouty has emptied this mish-mash of ingredients into Mrs. Vinchetti’s stomach through the esophageal tube by means of a surgical aspirator pump.)
Tony’s mute face began to redden, as Mrs. Vinchetti’s bowels began to move.
“He’ll have to eat it,” Prouty said, “or he’ll drown.”
The gray-pink length of intestine began to squirm. Muffled gargling could be heard, and Tony’s cheeks billowed hugely at each blast of diarrhea..
“Gorgeous, Doc. You’re a true star.” Vinchetti patted Prouty on the back and led him out of the room.
Dr. Prouty tried to rein his enthusiasm, to control himself. “So, um, we’re done now, sir?”
“With them two? Sure. We’ll let Tony chug on that for a while before I have the boys feed ’em both to the pits.”
Warm joy surged through Prouty’s veins. “So then… I can go now?”
“Sure, Doc, you can go just like I promised—”
Prouty nearly squealed in delight.
“—after pigs can fly and fuckin’ Santa Claus come down the chimney to hold my dick for me when I piss,” Vinchetti finished. “When bears wear funny hats and the pope shits in the woods.”
Prouty’s heart seemed to drop to the floor. He stood and stared. “But…sir. You said—”
“Yeah, I know, I said you could leave if you fucked Hymie in the ass and got your nut before Tony.” Another slap on the back. “But there’s one thing you gotta learn, paisan. My word ain’t worth a tick on a dead dog’s balls. Never trust a goombah slime-bag mafia fuck like me, Doc.” Vinchetti walked on, belting laughter, but then he turned and winked. “Me, you, and that fancy stapler of yours? We’re gonna have ourselves a
Dr. Prouty watched his boss disappear down the hallway.
Oh, well. It could be worse. There was always the hook.
— | — | —
MAKAK
Casparza was repulsive—a human blob. He couldn’t pack the food into his fat face fast enough.
But the girl—she was beautiful, and all class. She’d said her name was Janice.