Bob Bannering #1
The fat woman screamed as the baby slowly emerged from underneath the blankets. She had never felt more intense pain in her life. With one last scream, a baby came flying out at and slammed into the wall. The baby laid still on the cold, hard vinyl floor.
The doctors hurried to make sure the infant was okay. When they turned over the body, they were horrified to see the hideous face that lay before them. One of the nurses let out a shriek of terror and died on the spot. The baby, which the mother had named Bob, was fine except for a small slice down his forehead. There was a trickle of blood running from his hair line down to his chin. One of the doctors used a bic lighter to melt the skin back together, and then used a staple gun to make sure the wound stayed closed.
When the baby had been taken care of, the doctors' attention was turned back to the mother, Mrs. Bannering. She had died giving birth. When one of them examined her lifeless body more closely, he realized that they had given her the wrong drugs! They knew that if anyone found out about this, their career would be over.
The two doctors worked quickly and very quietly to dispose of the corpse. First, they used a saw to separate her hands, arms, legs, and head. Then they cut the remaining part into eight smaller pieces. They placed all of the parts into a black plastic garbage bag, and tossed it out the window into the narrow alley below. They took off their bloody shirts, and got into the hospital's elevator. When they arrived on the first floor, they hurriedly jogged outside and into the alley. They took the bag and dumped its bloody contents near some hungry stray dogs that were searching through garbage cans. The large dogs quickly devoured the remains, and buried the bones for later use.
When the hospital workers discovered that the mother of Bob Bannering was missing, they just assumed that she had run away because of the responsibility of taking care of a child, or committed suicide. But who would take care of bob? His father was executed three months ago for molesting five young boys, stabbing them to death, covering the bodies with kerosene, and burning them. The victim's parents could still remember the execution. The way Mr. Bannering's expressionless face looked that night as two armed prison guards escorted him down the long hall to his death. The other prisoners laughed and spit at him as he walked slowly toward the electric chair where he would die.
At the end of the hall was a small, dark room. When Mr. Bannering entered he fell to his knees and said his final prayer. All the spectators were screaming,"GO TO HELL!" at him while he prayed. After a few minutes, a guard came over to him and helped him sit down on the cold wooden chair. He fastened metal clamps around his arms and legs, and a large clamp around his chest. Finally, a metal helmet with thick wires coming out the top was placed on his head tightly, so tightly that he thought that his skull would cave in. His head was pounding with fear of what was about to come.
The priest read a few words out of the bible, and then the switch on the wall was pulled. The lights dimmed and a low hum could be heard as the electrical current passed through the murderer's body. His body gave a hard jerk, but was restrained by the clamps. A thin stream of smoke rose from his hair. Suddenly, his hair burst out in flames. There was a crackling sound and flames started coming out of his mouth. His clothes and flesh were on fire. And the man was still conscious through all of this. The spectators screamed, but had an unusual sense of satisfaction as the man who killed their babies' eyes melted and oozed down his flaming shirt until they rested on his lap. Large, open pus pockets were now in place of his eyes. Sparks went flying, and all the power shut down. The jail's back-up generator turned on in a few minutes, and restored the light. One cop looked over at the chair and saw that the man was still slightly alive! He drew his gun and fired one round into the head of the killer. His head burst like a balloon, and strands of his brain flew all over the room, sticking to the walls and the spectators. It was over.
Bob was put into a foster home where he was continually beaten and molested by his foster parents until he killed them at the age of three. He killed them very creatively. He duct taped himself to the ceiling above the stairs with some rope. When his foster parents came down the stairs, he dropped down two neuces. They walked right into them and hung themselves! Bob thought that this was fun, so he went on a killing spree. He killed many of his neighbors on his street, his final body count being 12.
Nobody ever suspected a three year old of killing twelve people, so they eventually arrested another man from his street. The man was found guilty and executed just like Bob's father. Now the people from his street were faced with the problem of finding a home for Bob. When he found out that the fat lady that lived nearby had volunteered to adopt him, he ran away. He broke a beer bottle and took the sharpest pieces and wrapped some of his duct tape around the bottom. He now had a few razor-sharp knives to aid him in his escape.
Bob 's journey through the woods took him almost three years due to the fact that he had been traveling in circles. He survived by eating slugs that he scraped off the bottoms of his boots. When he emerged by the side of a highway, he picked the car that he would take. It was a 1997 Acura Integra Type-R VTEC. A beautiful young woman, probably about 22, was driving it. Bob would have fun with this kill. He laid down in the middle of the road, and the Integra came to a screeching stop. The young woman got out of the car and knelt down over Bob. Bob quickly pressed the edge of one of his glass knives against the woman's throat. He then dragged her into the woods.
Bob Bannering raped her many times until he could no more. By that time the sun was shining enough to see fairly well. With all his strength he thrust the piece of glass into the young woman's chest. He twisted the knife back and forth a few times when he felt the blade grind against her spinal column. She was dead. Now he was hungry. He checked his boots, but no luck. Finally, after hours of leaning against the hot car, he figured out his next move. He smelled the sweet odor of decaying flesh in the intense Alabama heat, and he knew how to get rid of his hunger and dispose of the body at the same time. He cut every inch of the rotting corpse into bite sized pieces. He devoured each one, pressing it against the back of his mouth and letting the blood and other juices trickle down the back of his throat before chewing and swallowing. When he finished his first real meal in three years, he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and threw the remaining bones into the trunk of his new Acura Integra, and headed off.
To Be Conyinued…………….
By Luke Albers
Email: hotrodder@angelfire.com
