The Lottery

"(Name withheld), accused of raping two nuns and strangling one to death with her rosary beads last Sunday, was scheduled to appear for a postponed arraingment this afternoon in Klamath County Circuit Court."

"Shit!" John Clark exclaimed to the other partons of the tavern. "That snot-nosed dildo of a district attorney couldn'r try a case of the clap without fucking it up! I bet that the guy will walk."

"If you're the same John Clark that you used to be he won't be walking very fucking good." Observed one of the other men.

"I got in trouble the last time I did a nut job," John said, "and I sure as hell don't want to do hard time, so I'll just let someone else handle this dickhead. I will tell you this, though. If it were left up to me I would get old Pete's motorcycle gear from his widow, dress that bastard up in the heavy leather jaket and those chaps that protect the legs but leave the nuts exposed, and then put that full helmet on his head. Then I would tie him to a post in a potato shed somewhere with an empty five-gallon bucket wired around his bag and let everyone in the county throw rocks at the asshole. The bucket would get pretty heavy after a while."

Joe disagreed with John. "I would want to do it with my bare hands." He said. "I would just have you guys hold him down, then I would grab his sack and pull it as hard as I could and start twisting it. I bet I could get five or six full turns before his nuts popped off."

This topic was argued in every tavern, club, beauty parlor, and meeting place in Klamath Falls. The variety of way people came up with to separate the illegal alien from Mexico with his balls was amazing. Some people wanted to burn them off, while others proposed freezing them. The traditionalists favored the knife and the stockmen preferred the elastrator. The number that advocated crushing his testicles slightly outnumberd those desiring that he be hung by them. The pro at the country club wanted to drive them off with his Big Bertha, a local logger volunteered the use of his chain saw, and a rock driller familiar with explosives suggested a quick, but rather messy method of gelding him. It seemed like everyone in Klamath County had a different and unique deballment scheme in mind, and the most vicious and macarbe came from the hair dressing salons, where one prim old lady suggested a Edgar Allen Poe type emasculation using a live, hungrey, rat.

The only real issue was who would have the honor of nutting him after the trial, provided that he was found innocent. The man faced the death penalty if found guilty, and he would no doubt be separated from his jewels by other prisoners while awaiting execution. Even the most hardened criminals respected the sanctity of nuns, and even the compassionate conservitives demanded real justuce, although they were in favor of a doctor neutering him in a hospital instead of someone from the masses doing it.

A lottery system was devised just before the trial started, and it caught on like wildfire. Like the pyramid schemes that surfaced every ten years or so it was ignored by the law, and for a brief time it outsold the video poker, keno, and scatch-off tickets of the Oregon State Lottery. The holder of the lucky ticket would have the privilege of choosing the method of castration and doing the deed, and all of the ticket sale proceeds went to the nuns' church.

The jailers at the courthouse, all of whom were participants in the lottery, started working on the defendant's mind even before the trial started. They would stare at him while he was showering, point at his genitals, and make the cutthroat sign. He was given a joke advertisement from a porno magazine that showed a steel male chastity beld and was told that he needed to order one in a small enough size to fit him.

The DA, as predicted by John Clark, fucked up the prosecution, and aided by the testimony of a cop who had allegedly planted some evidence (sounf familiar?), the twelve dumbest jurors in Klamath County declared him not guilty, and the judge ordered his release to the Immigration and Naturalization Service, who would escort him to the airport for deportation.

Police from all local areas protected the man from the riotous crowd as he entered the INS car and also provided an escort as it sped away to the airport, where the man was placed on a chartered Cessna for the trip to the deportation center.

"Fasten your seat belt, please." John Clark instructed the passenger as he started the plane's engine.

"Cessna 64 Romeo is cleared for takeoff, VFR to Portland." The controller informed the pilot, and then added on a personal note. "Who won the lottery?"

"I don't know yet." John told the controller before leaving the radio channel.

The engine on the small plane started sputtering about fiftenn minutes later.

"No sweat." The pilot told his nervous passenger. "This thing will glide for miles, and there is an old landing strip just ahead."

The powerless plane coasted to a stop in front of a large building that had once housed a sawmill. Three men greeted the pilot as he stepped out of the plane, and together they extracted the terrified man from the back seat and escorted him into the crowdwd builing to meet the winner of the lottery.

"Any way that you want to do it is fine," John reminded the lucky winner, "but he has to live at least a week afterwards so that he can spead the word in his homeland."

The opening paragragh of this story is true. The details can be found at http://209.41.184.21/partners/670/public/news355249.html