29/12/2014 by Alan Crawford
John was to become an internet star
Only two left but not for long. One had longer to go than the other. He was enduring his last moments alive. She could hold on, or at least she thought so. This brief glimmer of hope was shattered a bit when he died there sprawled out on her lap. Shrivelled, shaking, near frozen and frightened, he was the only one of the crew that she liked. Now he was gone. No one else. If she could only get a hold of the evil fucktard John. Nancy had to hang on. Someone would come and save her. They must be trying, someone must care, hoped Nancy. No chance as it turned out. It turned out that John was an internet star.
Wednesday last week John had decided to raise some hell and party, party hard. He’d drink, smoke some coke and weed and generally wipe his bitter self off the face of the planet. Well as much as his dim witted mind could handle. He didn’t really handle it, he totally flipped and thought of his deepest revenge scenario. The sheer joy of inflicting some serious pain upon the scum crew who’d humiliated him.
The photos of him masturbating in the dry store after work were posted on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. They also created a profile for him in Grinder for good measure. Each of these entries were loaded with his real identity and his deepest personal information. All there for all to see. The online impact was enormous, major news enormous.
John often enjoyed spanking the monkey (as he liked to call it ) at work, after the night crew had finished. That night was no different. He would think of the latest super model babe that had been drinking at the bar that night. He would dream of that super hot young babe asking him home and he elaborated on the sexual olympics that destination would allow. John was rather clever in hiding this self pleasuring. The crew were always out in the bar having afters. They’d leave John to do the cleaning and reorganising of the kitchen and back areas – they were a lazy bunch of fuckers.
John was actually hired to do this work so he really had no justification in slagging off at the crew. They’d done their job and now it was John’s turn. He normally arrived at midnight, in preparation of the closing at 01.00. He would then begin the slopping out, hosing, scrubbing and general cleaning of the mess the crew left. What a fucking mess. He thought they left such a mess deliberately.
The crew on this night had decided to gather their shit early and head out clubbing. Normally they’d stay for about two hours or so, taking about the night, the cliental and their own personal adventures. This night was very different. After half an hour they’d agreed to get going and get out. Debbie went to get her clubbing shoes from the dry store.
Debbie rounded the corner and was stopped in her tracks by John and his Johnson. His face was screwed up in an expression Debbie knew only too well. The two handed grasp of his Johnson, dragging and pushing the violent strokes did surprised her. She was dumbstruck. He’s got quite a dick she thought, but why the fuck was he doing that here, or more importantly, now? The crew were only 10 meters away. Sure they’d never come back here, but this shit is really fucked up. Debbie crept back to the crew, John didn’t hear hear or see her and kept up the rhythm at his favourite frenzied pace. This was the pace he loved.
Debbie whispered the level of current events to Bill who immediately grabbed his phone and snuck back to John and his momentous pleasuring activity. Snap, Snap – two photos in the phone before John noticed. He stopped, sooner than he wanted to and unrelieved he drew up his pants and stuffed his ever decreasing Johnson into his underpants. He turned and yelled at Bill but it was too late. Bill had an eager audience in the crew. Some wanted a closer, second, lingering look. Some didn’t want to see it at all, let alone see it again.
The upload happen so quickly the crew had barely managed to react to John’s arrival at their table. He was red, very angry and somehow in combination with a pleading tone asked for the photos to be deleted.
“Too late, they’re online already John” .. said Bill. That was nearly the last thing John heard that night as he rattled about the bar finishing his shift. The crew had left laughing and screaming in joy at the night so far. He had to do something, as he realised his life was about to change for the worst. It did.
Now while John was in a state of hyper induced drug overload he thought of a way to get back at the crew. He’d kill every last one of them. Well maybe not kill, but seriously frighten all of them. Those fuckers needed to be taught a lesson. Each one had spread the photos, added commentary and one even created a Youtube video that took the internet by storm.
The vigorous grasping and the facial expressions even made onto Tosh.0. It was a sensation. John couldn’t walk to work any longer, he was stopped in the street and laughed at with no mercy. He just didn’t turn up for work any longer and decided to move as well. There wasn’t really anywhere he could escape it but he’d try. Just one thing to do before he left.
John dressed on this particular Sunday night as if he was going to work. He grabbed the keys and headed to the bar. As he knew the crew were having afters he crept in through the back door. No one was cleaning so he just proceeded unhindered out to the crew. He also had a gun. The crew shat themselves when he pointed this gun at them. Like frightened sheep they followed his directions and they all scrambled into the kitchen’s walk in freezer.
Nancy was the only one that apologised on her way in. As she did so the others now inside and struggling for space gave her some ill advised abuse. A huge amount of understandably colourful abuse was directed at John. He didn’t care. He’d got them and they were going to suffer a few hours in the cold. John dismantled the safety bell and the door’s release mechanism and slammed it shut. For good measure he forced a sharpening steel into the door handle and went to get himself a drink. He was going to give them until 04.00 and then he’d let them out.
What nobody knew was that Peter and his brother Bronte were coming in through the back door. They were very surprised to find it open. They’d planned on coming in through the ceiling but the open door was a gift. The days takings would be a nice holiday starter and Peter knew the crew would all be together in the bar with only that wanker left alone in the back area. Well tonight the hold up Gods were on Peter’s side.
He and his brother walked into the bar and smacked John over the head with a large torch, so hard he fell to the floor with a crash and hit his temple on the foot rest bar. He was killed instantly. Peter and Bronte took all the days takings, tips, cigarettes, spirits and the odd phone, iPad and wallet they found sitting at the now unoccupied table. Peter wondered what the fuck was going on here tonight, but only for a minute. They both managed to get away, oblivious to the CCTV at the back door and subsequent recording tracking their entry and loading of their ill gotten gains. The Police would arrest them three days later.
One day after finding the dead crew in the freezer.
Peter and Bronte claimed that they did not deliberately kill John or place the crew in the freezer. They didn’t even know they were in there. They soon accepted their fate and grew to enjoy prison life.
It turned out that as the bar was closed Monday and Tuesday, no one bothered to check why or where anyone from the crew actually were. Friends of the crew waited at the club that night but weren’t too concerned when they failed to show.
John didn’t have anyone looking for him, plenty looking at him – far too many looking.