It was 2:00 in the afternoon, and he hadfinished taping the show for the next day's viewing. Fred Rogers took offhis trademark sweater, and hung it on the hook by the door. He was by himself,the rest of the crew having already departed from their day's work. Hecould be himself now, and he smiled once again at the thought of how easyit was to con his audience into believing he was as square as he came offon TV. He actually hated kids, and had only picked up the Mister Rogersgig until he could get something better. As we all know though, it wasa mega-success. Kids loved him, and in their innocence, they were attractedto him the same way they were duped by perverts and child molesters. Theyjust didn't know any better. He chuckled again at the stupidity of thekids, and reveled in the fact that adults hated him as much as he hatedtheir kids.

He crossed the parking lot, and got into his van. As he reached to startthe ignition, a rough hand came up from behind the driver's seat and clampeditself over his mouth. The cloying smell of chloroform invaded his olfactorysenses, and he was unconscious before he even had a chance to be scared.

He woke later, with no way of calculating how long he had been out.His wrists were tightly bound, and he was blindfolded, so he didn't knowif it was day or night. If there was anyone else in the near vicinity,he couldn't detect their presence. He hoped there wasn't, because he wouldhave been embarrassed to be seen in this position. He figured someone mustbe looking for him, and he could only hope that the cops found him beforesome ordinary citizen did.

He tried to work his hands under his legs around to the front of hisbody, but he was well bound, and his flabby, out of condition body wouldn'tprovide the flexibility to accomplish this feat. So, he did the only otherthing he could think of. He yelled, "Is anybody here?"

Around the back of the warehouse where the TV star was being held, theboys were juicing it up on Southern Comfort and snorting some crank thatPig had copped in town. He was called Pig for obvious reasons; he was fat,dirty and had animal tendencies in the running of his everyday existence.He was also crude, and a mean heavyweight of a man who counted on the factthat people thought he was stupid. But he was the mastermind of the Rogerskidnapping, and his motive had been that he couldn't bear to see the sanctimoniouscocksucker one more time polluting the TV set. He also pegged Rogers asa pedophile, and a stretch in Folsom had given him a healthy hatred forkidfuckers.

Pig looked across the table at Flash and Hammer Steve and said, "Lookslike Mr. Fuckstick is awake." They all shared a smile. Flash was a fasttalking hustler with a mouthful of rotten teeth, and his breath was repulsivewhen he got close enough to talk to you. He always was the "get-in-your-face"type when he spoke. Consequently, no one spoke to him much except for hisfriends, Steve and Pig. Steve was called Hammer Steve because he had oncedone a term in prison for beating a-whore to death with a hammer for givinghim the fucking clap. He was no one to fuck with.

They all got up, and Pig slid the sliding door leading to the warehouse'sinner area. There was the asshole, standing there, afraid to move becausehe couldn't see where he was going. Pig shouted out, "Howdy, neighbor!!"Rogers seemed to relax a little, thinking he had been recognized by someonewho had come to help him. Since he was blindfolded, he didn't even havea chance to duck before Pig's meaty, greasy fist connected squarely withhis front teeth. He was out cold before he hit the ground on his foreheadwith a sound like a bat hitting a melon.

"Don't die yet, fucker. We have only just begun to party!!" said Pig.He yanked on the wrists at the spot where they were joined,and lifted ol'Fred up a few inches off the floor and slipped the hands over a hook thathung down from the ceiling, leaving the scumball hanging an inch or twoabove the floor of the building. He then took a sharp butterfly knife,and began cutting the shirt off of Fred's back, and he wasn't very carefulabout it either, for he had slashed into the skin of his forearm, not hittingany main veins, but bleeding pretty well anyway. After cutting the lengthof the shirt, he clenched it and gave it a brutal yank. It hung in tattersfrom the cuffs on Fred's wrist. Pig undid the belt, and yanked the trousersand underwear down to the ankles, leaving Fred nearly naked and exposed,his soft flabby body vulnerable. Pig looked at him, disgusted, and spiton him; a thin dribble of saliva ran down the surprisingly pale, fishlikebody of the target of this savage's disdain. His pants in a ball at hisfeet, Fred Rogers began to come to. He moaned at the pain in his arms andshoulders. "How ya feelin' there, neighbor?" said the Pig. Rogers wasn'tfooled this time, and started to gibber between his broken teeth. Pig shutthis short with a looping right hand to Fred's soft stomach, and Fred'sabdomen tried to contract, contributing greatly to his discomfort. He trieddesperately to catch his breath, but at least he had shut the fuck up,which made Pig feel better. Hammer Steve was giggling at a table in thecorner, and Flash was caught in a methamphetamine rush that had him grindinghis teeth and looking at the body of Rogers with a maniacal grin, as ifhe didn't know what he was going to do next, but it wasn't going to benice.

The next thing Rogers knew, he felt Pig near his left, and then feltsomething cold on his forehead. He felt a mixture of fear and relief; hewas afraid to die, but longed for the release that the bullet would bringhim. Imagine his surprise when Pig pulled the trigger on the staple gun.Rather than the release of having his feeble brains blown out, he was awareof an excruciating pain in his forehead, as the staple punctured the skinand 3/4 of the bone covering his brain. His body jerked, further strainingthe muscles of his shoulders, which were strained to the point of breaking.Pig squeezed off another staple for good measure, and Fred passed out again.Pig opened a beer, and went out to share another line of crank with hisbrothers, before resuming the torture he had in mind for this piece ofshit tied up in the warehouse. But he wanted the fucker awake for the wholeshow.

Rogers was drifting in and out of consciousness until the muscles ofhis shoulder ripped themselves loose from the joint, and it just sort ofpopped out of the socket. The good part of this was that his feet couldnow touch the ground, taking some of the weight of his body. The downsidewas that he had to get on his tiptoes to do so. He was wide awake now,oh yes indeed. Though the pain was excruciating in almost every cell inhis body, he was, through some inner reserve that one would doubt he hadby looking at him, adjusting to the pain. He was able to think, thoughin a fog. He realized that he was probably going to die, and he prayedthat the end would come soon. The thought buoyed him somewhat.

Pig was setting up for the next phase of the slow death of Fred Rogers.He was gathering his tools; a soldering iron and extension cord and a setof vise grips. He entered the area where the pitiful form hung, a littleawkwardly now from the separated shoulder. He took the vise grips in hisright hand, and grabbing Rogers' left shoulder, pulled the mostly limpbody toward him. He clamped the tool down on the nipple of the victim.He squeezed it shut, and the pressure caused the nipple to burst, sprayingblood all over the hand of Pig. Pig didn't notice. He had grabbed the limpdick of Rogers, and said, "Hey Rogers, can you say ouch?" He applied thetip of the soldering iron to the head of Fred's pecker, and a muffled screamfrom behind the gag they had put over his mouth caused Pig to say," I knewyou could!" He held the iron on there until the smoke started rising fromthe affected area. Of course, Fred was again out like the proverbial light.

Pig was getting bored. He just wanted to finish the fucker off and blowthis scene. He called to Hammer Steve, "Steve, mount that cocksucker!!"Now it was Steve's turn to do his thing. He got the hammer and some 5 inchnails out of the truck, and went in the warehouse. He cut the ties thatheld Rogers up, and the limp body hit the floor. He stood Fred up, andpropped him against the wall. He asked Flash to give him a hand, but Flashwas so swakked out from the dope and his own insanity that he just satin the corner and giggled. Steve cursed him to eternal damnation, and Flashjust kept on giggling, so the Pig came over and held Rogers' body up, whileSteve centered one of the spikes in the palm of Fred's hand, drew backhis hammer, and sunk the nail with four well-aimed blows. He repeated theprocedure for the other hand, and there was Fred, nailed like a martyrto the wall of some god-forsaken warehouse, guilty of nothing but beingoffensive to the wrong people, who made him pay for his transgression withunspeakable suffering.

"Gimme that hammer," said Pig to Steve. Pig took the hammer, and oneof the nails, and hammered the nail into the top of a 2x4 that was in thecorner. When he was done, the nail was sticking 3 inches out of the board.It was grand finale time. Pig raised the board over his head, and broughtit down on the head of Fred Rogers. When the nail punctured the brain,it sent a spasm so powerful that it nearly tore the board from Pig's hand,also tearing one of his hands loose from the wall. He was dead, real dead,and the way he hung there by one hand was a gruesome sight. Pig told Steveto nail his hand back up. And then they got the fuck out of there.


Epilogue.
 

A year has passed since police found the decomposed and mutilated bodyof Fred Rogers in a deserted warehouse, shocking a nationful of schoolkids.No suspects were ever sought, some believing that the police just didn'tgive a fuck. The show was still doing well in reruns, which irked the shitout of Pig, who had done all one man could to rid the world of one morepiece of human waste.