Call of the Jellenheimer
Chapter 13
Ricky woke up in a cold sweat in his recliner, the nightmare of being arrested still fresh in his mind. His heart still raced as reality slowly came back to him. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he sat upright. He thought about his dream, and decided to be more careful from now on, even more so than he already had been.
Fast forward to another productive work week. With Gretchen gone he could now train to be put on the front desk of the veterinary hospital, which came with a pay raise. It was nice not having to scrub toilets all day, and dealing with clients and their fluffies face-to-face gave Ricky a fresh list of new victims. The best part was that he had full access to their private information on the computer at his fingertips; no more stalking to find addresses.
Meanwhile, at the shelter, Ricky had learned how to do more as a volunteer as well. He could run the front desk, run the euthanasia room and the incinerator (his favorite part), and Don had begun to show him how to do basic bookkeeping. Soon he was a jack of all trades.
After a long hard week, Ricky got home Friday evening to an exciting surprise; Punky was about to give birth.
“Babbehs comin daddeh!” She wheezed over and over again. Ricky put some newspaper under her in preparation for the mess she was about to make. He put Rocket and Poptart into the bathroom and closed the door so that they wouldn’t bother anyone while Punky gave birth.
Ricky was so excited for his first batch of shitrats. He had so many fun ideas on how to torture them. He put his recently acquired knowledge into practice as he delivered one tiny wet foal after another.
He had a bowl of warm water and a clean rag ready to wash the blood and mucus off of each baby. Once clean, he placed them into a box with a heating pad under a towel at the bottom. It was cozy and warm, perfect for isolating the foals from their mother without harming them.
Six brown earthies, all with black mane like their father, Stumpy, and two yellow pegasus like their mother, Punky. One had black mane, the other had pink. She was a real prize that Ricky would be able to sell for a decent price. All the rest would be victims of Ricky’s abuse.
After the birthing was complete, Punky fell asleep from exhaustion as Ricky milked her using a small mare breast pump he bought at the pet store. It allowed him to bottle the milk and feed the babies himself, ensuring even further isolation from their mother. They would only recognize Ricky as their caretaker; exactly as he planned.
He held the now full bottle’s nipple in each foals face and allowed them to instinctively latch on and begin suckling the life-giving fluids. He was already tormenting them by feeding the yellow and pink fluffy first while ignoring the others. He waited until she was good and full before finally feeding the rest.
Once the bottle was empty Ricky filled it again. Punky had plenty of milk to give having been overfed spaghetti for days before giving birth. Ricky filled two bottles and put them in the fridge. He used his stove timer to set an alarm for the next feeding time.
Time to have some fun…
Punky awoke, confused. “Whewe babbehs?” She asked.
“They’re my babies.” Ricky said coldly. “I took care of them, you just forget about them, got it?”
“Huhuhuuu.” She cried. “Am bad mama? No get babies?”
“That’s right.” Ricky replied. “They’re mine now. I might let you see them if you’re good and stay quiet.”
Punky sadly curled up in a ball and covered her face to stifle her cries. She was heartbroken. Ricky ignored her and grabbed one of the small brown foals. A male runt with his father’s pathetic looks.
“Stumpy junior.” Ricky said as he walked over to the bathroom and let the other fluffies out. They excitedly ran out and began playing, sniffing Punky curiously before roughhousing with each other.
Ricky entered the bathroom and found stumpy shivering in the corner. Despite having his colon blown out with a firecracker, he still somehow clung to life. Ricky decided to make his last few hours of life a living hell.
“Look Stumpy!” Ricky said joyfully. “You have your very own little baby! He looks just like you!”
Stumpy could barely lift his head and open his eyes to see his master’s outstretched hand holding a tiny brown foal. It made the tiniest peeping sounds as it sniffed the air around it. Ricky set the two of them on some newspaper in the tub, placing the tiny foal in Stumpy’s arms.
“There you go, all nice and cozy.” Ricky said sweetly. “Now let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”
“Stumpy wub babbeh.” He said softly, licking his newborn son with love and affection. “Bestest babbeh ebah.”
Ricky grabbed a can of oven cleaner from underneath the kitchen sink. It was extra strength, an extremely corrosive substance that was sure to cause some serious chemical burns.
Ricky used the entire can to completely douse Stumpy and the foal from head to toe. It was simply cold and wet at first, but then the burning began.
Stumpy cried in agony as his eyes burned from the caustic chemicals. The pain was beyond torture. He looked down in horror to see his baby melting in his arms. The foals tender flesh was too soft and weak to handle the acid-like liquid boiling it to death.
Ricky smiled down at the miserable sight, relishing in Stumpy’s torment. He let them burn for a bit longer before lighting them on fire. While oven cleaner (the liquid form) is not flammable, its vaporised form is highly combustible. There was enough vapors around them for the fumes to catch fire and burn them both to a crisp, finally ending their misery.
“Rest in hell, shitrats!” Ricky said before cleaning up the mess.
He spent the rest of the evening cleaning the apartment, making food for dinner, reading some books, and finally heading to bed. He looked forward to an exciting weekend of having fun with his new toys.