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Stewed

added 15 years ago S

Stewart was screaming wildly. Okay, squeaking noisly might be a better description. His body was slick with sweat and his muscles ached as he scaled the rope ladder that was the burlap sack prison. He had to escape. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Megan his friend was now parroting the strange tall man.

"No, I've never heard of anybody named Stewart. I came to your house trick or treating by myself. I'm going to meet up with my friends later, and if anybody asks me about someone named Stewie, I'll bring them back here," she said in a dull monotone, "Master."

"Good, slave, when I snap my fingers you'll awake, thank me for the goodies I put in your bag, and skip happily on to the next house," boomed the tall man's voice. He snapped his fingers.

"Thanks for the treats, mister," Megan said turning she began to skip away.

The man re-entered his house and closed the door. The bag began swinging as he walked, and a terrified Stewart hung on for dear life. The next thing he knew the swaying stopped and light streamed in from overhead. He blinked his eyes at the sudden brightness, and saw the tall man's giant face grinning down at him. The sack was up-ended and Stewie found himself hanging upside down over a large black roasting pan as the giant violently shook the bag until Stewie let go and fell into the pan with a loud clang.

He lay there dazed and aching as the giant held two large knives over him.

"I can cut your clothing off you, little man, or you can strip. Your choice," the giant whispered like a loud wind. The knife blades were wider than Stewart was now. He could see his reflection in the sides of the blades. He immediately hopped up and began pulling off his shoes, and socks. In less than 30 seconds he was standing there in his white briefs.

The giant reached in and picked up Stewie's clothing as Stewie backed against the cold black metal pan. A giant bottle of olive oil loomed over Stewart and soon heavy oil was slathering down his head and over his face and shoulders. Stewart closed his eyes as the oil covered them. He slipped on the oil and fell. A giant hand began rolling him around in the oil that had collected at the bottom of the pan. He felt two telephone pole sized fingers - no it was a finger and thumb pinching his underwear and pulling it off. He struggled to hold on. He couldn't see because of the oil. He heard the fabric rip, and felt the sudden chill of nakedness.

He froze in horror as he considered what lay in store for him. The only thing he could think of was the line from a childhood tale.

"Fee! Fie! Foe! Fum!"


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