Revenge of the Trample Boys

By Nathan, July 2005


      The day was over, and the three boys were tired
It had been a hot day, sultry and hazy as early July can sometimes be. The trees in the neighborhood sang with the ancient cadences of crickets and other such things as the fat orange sun slowly rolled itself down behind the wooded hills that surrounded the back yard of the yellow split-level house on Bobo street.

     Matt, Kevin and Derek were all 15 years old. They lived in the neighborhood, and had been friends for a couple years. Matt was tall, with a shaggy mop of black hair and he liked painting his fingernails black too, because he was evil… or at least he pretended to be.  He had long arms, long legs, big hands, and big feet. He sat on the back porch of the yellow house, drinking beer. 

     Kevin was not as tall as Matt, but still kind of tall.  He was a strong, sturdy boy who liked playing soccer and rolling around on rollerblades. He had brown hair and was wearing a yellow and pink t-shirt with a picture of a pineapple on it. Derek was a boy also, and he had blond hair and blue eyes and was wearing hugely baggy skater pants that dragged on the ground and got all shredded up because of this.  His white sneakers sometimes could be seen poking out from under the tattered denim.

     They had spent the day here, at their other friend John’s house. He was 21, and he bought beer for them all the time, and they all liked John. He was such a cool guy.  Just this day, they had been making movies in the back yard with a video camera, kicking and stepping on each other for fun.  They did this once a month, and John edited the movies and put them on his website called  The guys always had fun doing this, because they just loved to trample on each other—playfully of course, but making it look more real for the camera. None of them minded having the other two boys sticking their bare feet in their face or standing on their chest.  It was fun.

     Now they were all relaxing after the days filming.  John came out of the house with more beer and they drank it.  The sun was going down. Later that night, they planned to get totally drunk and then hop in bed, all in the SAME bed, and do whatever felt right. The three teens usually took the opportunity to gang up on their friend John and smother him nearly unconscious with a pillow while sitting on him, because they knew he enjoyed it.  It was a normal part of their monthly routine, because they were boys, and as we know:

     Boys will be Boys, and Boys are GOOD!!


     But this day had been the last of their happy times for a while, because unknown to anyone, something bad was about to happen.


     In Detroit, 400 miles away, a thin man with no lips sat in a swivel chair, surfing the internet.  There was a velvet painting of Jesus on the wall.  There was a copy of the Ten Commandments stuck to the ceiling with glue.  There was a dead walrus in the other room, but that wasn’t important.

     This man, Harbit Smacker, was a conservative right wing fanatical Christian moralist freak who spent all of his time searching for things he didn’t like so he could persecute people… because that was his nature. He finished sending a nasty email full of Bible references to CNN, telling them that they would all burn in hell for posting a news story critical of the Republican Party. Then he just browsed, looking for bad things. There were so many, he didn’t know which one to pick first…

     Shortly after 8pm, he found John and the boys’ site…

    “Fighting Boy Movies!?” he hissed in outrage, clutching a crucifix. “Fighting is bad! Boys are wrong!! They shouldn’t be putting their BARE FEET on another boy’s face!! It’s immoral!! It leads to child molestation!! This is satanic!! This is a crime against morality, a crime against JESUS!!”

    He scooted back away from the computer so fast he fell on the floor. He raced from the room, huffing and snorting.


     Later that night…


     John and Derek were looking at their movies on the computer, when suddenly there was a hideous beeping noise from the monitor, and the website went down. An error message appeared from stating that “The page you have requested does not exist”

     “What the fuck is this? Of course it exists!” John mumbled, then tried reloading it.  Over the next few minutes of increasingly frantic and horrible activity, it became clear that his entire website was gone!  Over 900 megabytes worth—it had taken him two years to build that site.  The income from selling the movies was what paid for his mortgage and power bill!! Now everything was ruined!

     “John, it’ll be okay man.” Derek said, putting his arm around his friend as he sobbed at the keyboard. “I’m sure it’ll come back on line.  It’s just a mistake or something.”

     “No it won’t.” a voice hissed from the computer, startling them.  It was coming from a computer generated face in the lower right corner. “I am Billy, the new cyber-tool used by to give important messages about customer accounts. Your account has been terminated because you violated the terms of service agreement by posting illicit pedophile material including scandalous images of FIFTEEN YEAR OLD BOYS without SHIRTS!! You should be ashamed of yourself, you horrible homosexual child molester!”

     Nobody knew how to respond to this—a talking head on the monitor calling itself Billy and shouting ridiculous things at them?

     But John took it hard. Too hard. He was the oldest of them, but he was still only 21, and he was full of fear when it came to persecution from the Normal World.  He was afraid that the FBI was about to show up and arrest him for corrupting teenagers or something. And he was drunk too. And there was a large knife in the desk drawer.

     Derek saw but couldn’t do anything to stop it, as John took the blade and plunged it deep into his own chest, then slumped forward and died on his keyboard, blood running down onto the floor.

     “John, No!!” He yelled, but it was too late now.

     “It hurts.” was the last thing John said.

     Matt and Kevin came running—they’d been in the kitchen eating pizza.

     They couldn’t speak. It was too horrible.


     Two hours later, the police had come and gone.  They had rightly decided that it was suicide, and that the three boys hadn’t murdered him. At least in this, there was justice. But the authorities declined to investigate what Derek kept trying to tell them—that the management policies at were responsible for the death.

     “Look kid. You can’t blame a corporation when somebody stabs himself.  Anyway, you shouldn’t have been making movies like that.  Why not make normal movies, like about Bank Robberies or War? Now buddy, THAT’S America!”

     Kevin at that point almost told the cop to go fuck himself, but he decided that would be unwise.  And besides, a certain plan was starting to form in his young teenage mind. A plan to avenge John and punish the hideous idiots who had ruined their lives… and the lives of many other people too.  Chatrooms were constantly abuzz with scandalous tales of how was shutting down websites and groups for daring to post photos of boys because it was immoral and wrong to look at pictures of boys. It was okay to tie up women and set them on fire and fuck farm animals while screaming in French, but not okay to post a photo of a 13 year old boy sitting on a chair holding a teddy bear because it was ‘exploiting children’.  Excuse me!? What the hell is wrong with people!? Get your fucking priorities straight you sonofabitchin’ right wing sleazebags!! Why don’t you all just go jump into a giant meat grinder and leave decent people alone!!


    Sorry, that was the author ranting.


     Ten minutes after the cops left, the three teens left as well.  They drove away down the road in John’s car, technically stealing it, but he had been their friend, and he was now dead anyway, so what did it matter?  Justice needed to be done. They vowed to find out who was responsible, and destroy them.

     Over the next week, Kevin, Derek and Matt did research, and made lists of names. They studied phone books.  They studied maps.  Derek robbed a liquor store to get money for their operation—he wore a paper mask of Brad Renfro and threatened the clerk with a smelly sock, demanding money.  The clerk, moaning in horror, emptied the cash register, and then the safe. 

     Now they were ready. 

     “Are we ready, dudes?” Derek asked. 

     “We’re ready.” Matt said. He held up his big lanky hands and examined them, checking to see if THEY were ready.  After a moment, he nodded.  His hands were ready… and able… and willing to squeeze tight around somebody’s neck; to shove old ladies down stairways; to smother babies in their cribs—whatever it took to eliminate the entire top management of YeeHaw.

     Kevin was ready too, and so were his feet.  All three of the boys feet were ready—ready to stomp, to trample, to press and to crush!! They would do it the way they liked best, they ways in which they had always played with each other—now it would be real.  Now was the time for horror and destruction!! Now was the time to teach those uptight bastards a lesson in common decency!! NOW was the time for BAD BOYS to ATTACK!!

     But they had to get there first. 

     They had learned in their research that YeeHaw was holding a “Corporate Appreciation Dinner” at their headquarters in downtown Chicago tomorrow. 


      According to the news report Derek had discovered, the executives and policy makers of the giant internet company were going to be giving each other medals and awards, and also honoring ‘several concerned citizens’ who helped remove ‘bad things’ from the ‘Net by searching for things they disliked and reporting them. 

     Yes, Harbit Smacker was going to be there. 

     The boys didn’t know him.  They never would.  When the time came, they would simply crush him to death just like the rest of them.  And how did three mostly ordinary teenagers plan to attack and destroy dozens of people?


     That’s how.


     “See, my mom used to work for a giant corporate bastard company and she told me how they all work in separate little cubicles and offices…I bet we can work our way from one to the next to the next, killing all those fuckers one at a time, and nobody would figure it out until it was too late… they all wear headphones and listen to dumb-ass music while they’re working anyway.”  Derek said.

     “Like, how do you know that? That sounds impossible!” Kevin said.

     “Are we gonna let John down? They killed him!! They just fuckin’ killed him!! Some asshole saw our website and didn’t like it, so they shut it down and gave these really idiotic reasons for it, and John couldn’t take it, and he stabbed himself and died, right in front of us!! He was such a good friend!!”

     “I know man,” Matt agreed. “I’m gonna miss him.  Now let’s go rid the world of those morons!!”


     Later that day, in Chicago…


     Bill Manneur sat in his hideously expensive office, cackling and digging his hands into a chest of gold coins and diamonds… he did this every day at 4:00, to celebrate how rich he was and how much power he had as the CEO of YeeHaw dot com industries.  His company supplied email accounts, home pages, web groups, and numerous other services to billions of people.  Advertisers and corporate crime brought in hundreds of millions of dollars a month.  Innocent, friendly boys in Peru were kidnapped and forced to work in YeeHaw’s dungeon, editing html documents, watched over by green-skinned men with bull whips.

     One of the greatest challenges, Bill thought, was keeping the internet free of anything that showed children or teens in any way besides the way society at large wanted to see them--- in other words, as completely non-sexual, non-violent, mindless babies who do nothing but BUY CANDY, TOYS, AND GAMES!!

     “Websites that show teenage boys taking off their shoes are criminal enterprises that should be shut down!!” Mister Manneur suddenly shouted aloud, jumping up from his desk, delivering a speech to his empty office.

     “Groups where people post photos of boys wrestling must not be allowed, because wrestling brings to mind terrible thoughts of… of NAUGHTINESS!!”


     “Mister Manure?” the secretary interrupted on the intercom.

    “That’s Manneur, you bimbo!” he hissed, although she had pronounced it exactly the same—apparently he knew when people were calling him shit. The secretary’s voice continued “The Vice President for Website Shutdowns is here to see you, along with this months Award Winning Moralistic Rightwing Citizen Who Complains About Things To Us.”

     “Oh, good. Send them in.” the CEO cackled, then went back to tossing gold and diamonds around on his desk.


     This hideous fool and his guests would be dead by nightfall.

     But first came everybody else in the building…


     On the first floor, the security guard sat at his desk in the middle of the lobby, watching people as they entered from the street.  He saw an old hag with a blue poodle, and he let her pass.  He saw a group of young men with strangely shaved facial hair, and he let them pass—obviously software developers.  He saw a tall young teen boy wearing black, with black hair hanging all over his face, and the boy had his fingernails painted black too!  He looked Evil!! And he had two friends.

     It was Matt of course… he, Derek and Kevin were in the lobby, looking around for the elevators.  Before the guard could pay any more attention to them, he was distracted when a 600 pound British  woman became jammed in the revolving door and started screaming… he forgot all about having seen the evil looking boys.  He never noticed as they stole the set of master keys from his desk and then slipped into the service stairwell…

     They went up. 

     The building was 12 stories, and they were headed for the top two floors… they wanted to executives, the policy makers, and their idiot guests at the Corporate Banquet, and things like that always took place on the top floors of a building.  At least, that’s what Derek said. 

      “It’s true man.” he said, walking up the stairs.  The stairwell was dimly lit, and it echoed with the slap of their shoes on the concrete steps. Their strong young arms swung at their sides… their powerful teenage fingers were ready to grip and pinch.  To PINCH!? Excuse me.  They were not here to pinch people… well, maybe they would tie somebody up, cover his mouth, and then pinch his nose.  Yeah… and hold on for a few minutes.  Okay, if that’s what we’re talking about, sure, they can pinch people.

     As they passed the 6th floor, Kevin said “You know, I think we should tie somebody up and smother him.”

     “Oh, that’s so cool!” Matt chuckled. “I want to feel him sucking helplessly for air against the palm of my hand.”

     “Dude, you’re weird.” Derek giggled.  But then he added “But I’ll help you, it sounds like fun.”

“So who are we gonna kill?” Kevin wondered now.

“Everybody… starting with that guy right there!” Matt said with excitement.  There was a main in a grey suit prancing rapidly down the steps towards from above. His keys were jingling in his pocket as he came.  He was a “Content Advisor” who worked on the 11th floor. He always took the stairs, because he was trying to lose weight. Well… he would lose more than his weight this time.  He would lose his life.

     The overweight man saw the boys, and he moved over to the side to make room… they acted like they were going to let him pass, and then at the last moment Kevin grabbed onto the hand rail and simultaneously stuck his foot in the man’s path. Dashing down the stairs as he was, he didn’t have time to react.  He hit Kevin’s leg and tripped over it, and went flying down the stairs headfirst, screaming in sudden terror as he saw the hard cement steps rushing up to meet his face.

     The boys watched as he somersaulted grotesquely away down the stairs, crunching and snapping with each impact.  Blood splashed the wall.  He sprawled on the landing below, unmoving.  The teens stared down at him. They had killed him. It felt so…odd. And yet it also felt right. 

     And then a thin moan escaped from the broken man.  He was alive… paralyzed, but alive.  Not for long. Without having to say a word, the three 15 year old buddies trotted down the steps to where their first victim lay twitching. 

     “This is for what you people did to our friend.” Matt said as he stepped directly on the man’s exposed throat and pressed firmly. He began to gurgle and choke as the boys big skater shoe sank down lower, closing his windpipe forever. Derek put his own foot on the guy’s face and with slow brutality broke his nose and flattened it. Kevin was about to join them when a door opened right next to him and a woman peered into the stairwell.  She was hideously ugly.  She was wearing a YeeHaw employee badge on her shirt. Before she could make a sound, Kevin grabbed her and pulled her through the door.  He rammed her face into the wall, then got her in a sleeper hold from behind, squeezing her neck in his arms. She kicked the wall, coughing and choking.  Her shoe flew off and hit Derek, who only laughed as he continued stepping on the paralyzed man.

     Soon, they were both dead.  The strangled woman and the trampled man were left together on the steps, and the 3 evil boys of destruction went back up the steps… to the 11th floor.

     There was a long hallway, with 20 doors leading to private offices.  There was no security.  This area was off limits to the public, but they had stolen the master keys so they could go anywhere they wanted…so now they went into Sandy Frumpkin’s office. 

     Sandy Frumpkin was the Executive Manager in charge of Legal Bullshit.  It said so on the name plate on her desk. She was 45 years old, wore a wig, and was tone deaf. What that had to do with anything, nobody knows.  Or cares. All that mattered to the boys was that she worked at YeeHaw dot com, she had a heart, it was beating, and they wanted to make it stop. That’s what was important.

     She was sitting facing the window…smoking a pipe. The office smelled like pot. Kevin ran up to her and snatched the pipe away, then sucked a lungful of the hot smoke into his own evil lungs, then blew it back in her face… by this time, she was screaming because Derek and Matt were stabbing her with letter openers they found on the desk. She bled and screamed. Matt gave her chair a spin and she whirled in a circle and fell on the rug, moaning.  Derek kicked off his shoes and stood deliberately on her face in his warm, sweaty socks, holding onto the desk for balance.  She moaned in horror, smelling the odor of her doom as the big, soft feet pressed down, covering her face completely, blocking her mouth and nose.

     “Kill the bitch. Smother her with your feet dude.” Kevin said.

    “No! Noooo!” Sandy was trying to scream, in a muffled sort of way.  Kevin stood on her chest, flattening her to the office floor so she couldn’t escape.  Derek took off his shoes too and helpfully put his bare feet on her head and neck, helping Matt to smother her… to cruelly smother her to death under their smelly adolescent teenager-boy feet!!

     It was the same kind of stuff they used to do in the movies they made with John… only this time, it was real.  Nobody was filming this for sale on a website.  This was murder.  And it was good.

    “Auuughhh… mmmhhmmbmm…” the woman moaned as she began to pass out. It really didn’t take too long, with four feet on her face so she couldn’t breathe. She never breathed again, she died with sock lint up her nose.

     They stuffed her under the desk, then tossed her computer out the window into the parking lot. It smashed through the windshield of Bill Manneur’s Porsche, but the slightly insane CEO never noticed… he was too busy up on the next floor, gloating over gold and diamonds, and awarding a medal to Harbit Smacker, the lipless right wing Christian moralist persecution bigot who made a living turning in ‘bad’ web sites to the internet authorities.


     After killing three other people on the 11th floor, the evil boys came to the office of Bisquick Vultura, the Vice President of Corporate Idiocy. ( that’s what it said on his office door ) .  He was a 700 pound Cuban man wearing a dress and smoking crack.  Apparently, the YeeHaw corporate disdain for ‘abnormal websites’ didn’t carry over to it’s management, who were able to be as freaky as they wanted… talk about hypocrisy. 

     “Holy shit, look at the size of that guy!” Derek whispered, peering through the lightly frosted door glass into the office.

     Matt took a look. “Damn.” He said. “You think we can take him?”

    Kevin decided for them by saying “Yes.”—and then opening the door and rushing headlong into the office, attacking.

     His buddies followed at once.  There was nothing to do now but succeed.

     It would seem that the element of surprise was theirs. Perhaps it’s the fact that people at work in a private office do not expect to suddenly be attacked by homicidal teenagers who come charging in from the hallway with no warning. 


     Bisquick looked up.  He saw teen boys in skater clothes rushing towards him.  He hissed like a fool, but before he could do anything else, Kevin jumped up onto his desk and stomped on his head. WHAP!

     The fat man dropped the crack pipe and went racing backwards away from the desk in his swivel chair, screaming—there was a shoeprint on his face, and his left eye was hanging loose from the socket.

    “Whoah! You knocked his fuckin’ eye out!” Matt laughed.  Kevin stared at this disgusting sight for a second, then shouted “Oh, GROSS!”—but he was laughing. All three of them continued after the fat guy, beating on him, kicking him.  The desk chair broke and he fell on the floor. They began to trample him, jumping onto his back from atop the furniture, bouncing up and down on his head., kicking him in the butt. Derek crushed his fingers under his heel, then knelt down and poked hi thumb in the guy’s remaining eye, rupturing it deliberately with a grinding motion.  The man screamed and squealed like a pig.

     “This is for John.” Matt said, stomping on his head now…and again…and again…and again. Soon the fat man was unconscious.  His scalp split open.  His jaw broke.  His neck broke. 

     BOOM…BOOM…BOOM… Matt kept slamming his sneaker down until his foot started to hurt.  Then he stopped…. He had to save his energy for other victims.  Besides, the fat guy was clearly dead.

     “We showed you a thing or two, bitch.” Derek sneered at the corpse, before overturning a filing cabinet.  Papers showered down, hiding the dead man. They left the room…


     Up on the 12th floor, there were only three rooms.  One was the CEO’s office.  The second was his secretary’s office.  And the third, and largest by far, was the Corporate Conference Room.  This vast chamber was the size of a school gymnasium. Three of the walls were nothing but windows, all the way up to the 30 foot ceiling. A huge mirrored disco ball the size of a car hung from the ceiling. A conference table made of fake plastic wood stretched 50 feet across the chamber, and there were 34 people seated around the table, eating peanuts and drinking beer.  They were all roaring with laughter, like a bunch of lunatics.  Half of them were YeeHaw executives, while the other half were various assorted Moralists, Puritans, Bigots, and Idiots who had been invited to the “Corporate Appreciation Dinner”--- all of these people were in some small way responsible for the shutting down of the Fighting Boys website and the tragic suicide of it’s creator, John.  All of these people were intolerant swine.  They told themselves that they were open-minded and fair, that they welcomed all sorts of differing opinions and lifestyles—just nothing to do with boys!! You can’t show boys playing with their feet or wrestling or smothering people… it’s bad!!

      These people were all dirty swine and would soon be exterminated.


     Derek, Matt and Kevin looked into the conference room.  There was no way they could go in there and just take on 34 people at once.  They needed a plan. They sauntered back into the hallway, glancing about to make sure nobody was watching them—there was nobody around.  They saw a door labeled “Bill Manneur, President and CEO of YeeHaw dot com” but they were saving that for last.  They’d killed 14 people on the 11th floor, going from office to office and trampling them to death behind their desks, or strangling them in the bathroom.  One they just tossed out the window. Now they wanted to find a way to kill the 34 executives and idiots in the conference room… it was Matt who came up with the plan.

     At the end of the hallway they were standing in, there was a fake fireplace for ambience.  It was lit even now… and the flames had to be coming from somewhere.  Matt, big and cute though he was, had a mind as well… flames, he thought.  Where do flames in a fake fireplace come from? Gas lines. He looked around the hallway.  Now, you would expect that in a fancy corporate office, the gas lines would be hidden inside the wall, right? Not here.  There was a two inch diameter pipe running across the surface of the wall, with a label on it every five feet that said DANGER! NATURAL GAS!! FLAMMABLE!!

     Matt pointed this out to his friends. They all followed the pipe with their eyes, up the wall, then through the wall--- into the conference room.  Matt hurried back to the conference room door and peeked inside, looking up.  Sure enough, the gas line ran across the conference room ceiling… straight to the giant mirror ball. What the hell?

     “That thing must be full of explosive gas!! I bet it’s where the gas comes from, it must be a storage tank or something!” Matt exclaimed.

     Derek noticed that there was a blow torch sitting on the floor nearby.  An electrician had apparently forgotten and left it there after doing some repairs earlier in the day. He picked it up, turned the valve, and pressed the electronic ignition button.  Blue flame sprang from the nozzle, 6 inches long, burning at over 2000 degrees with a vicious hissing sound.

     “Dude, what are you doing!?” Kevin blurted in disbelief.

    “It’s now or never.  I feel lucky.” Derek said.  He rushed past his friends into the conference room, then threw the lit blow torch towards the conference table. Then he hurried back out into the hall and slammed the door shut.

     “Get down!” he urged,  dropping to the floor. Kevin and Matt got down, on top of Derek, lying on him just to be friendly. Also, in case the whole building blew up, they’d rather be together like this when they died.

     In the conference room, the 34 executives and idiots were cackling and screaming with mad laughter as they drank gin and ate sardines. They were belching hideously and spilling rum on themselves.  The lit blowtorch came looping through the air and fell into a  ten gallon cauldron of 120 proof grain alcohol sitting on the table. The big stoneware crock exploded in a blaze of blue flame shooting 20 feet straight up into the air, licking at the 12 foot diameter mirror ball… which had a large tank of natural gas concealed inside it. WHOOM!! The entire room exploded.

     The conference room was all glass on three sides, while the fourth side—the wall facing the rest of the 12th floor—was solid granite.  As a result of this design, the force of the explosion all went out the windows, taking the contents of the room with it.  Table, chairs, and 34 idiots were blown to pieces and hurled out the windows.  The granite wall protected the rest of the 12th floor.  The conference room was empty and windowless. The streets below were littered with flaming corpses and other debris.

      35 feet away, in his office, Bill Manneur the CEO heard the blast. It wasn’t very loud, because his office was soundproofed. But it was still unmistakably an explosion. “What the hell was that!?” Harbit Smacker demanded. 

    “It was nothing, just a sonic boom or a traffic accident.  Pay it no heed.” Bill Manneur said. “We get noises like that all the time here in the big city.”


     On the other side of the office door, the secretary was a bit more suspicious.  She rose from her enameled porcelain desk and went mincing like an idiot across the chamber and peered out into the hallway… there didn’t seem to be anything amiss…except the fake fireplace had stopped burning. Hmmmm, suspicious.  The gas flow must have been shut off…She turned and looked the other way down the hall, and all she was a fist, up close and personal.


     After Kevin punched the secretary in the face and dazed her, the three boys dragged her back into her office.  There was a two foot tall man standing in the corner, wearing a green and pink checkered suit.  “Yeeeee-Hawwwwww!!!” he screamed.

     “YeeHaw THIS, you bastard.” Derek said, stepping up and kicking him in the stomach.  It wasn’t hard, since he was so short. Derek’s Nike drove the tiny freak back against the wall and smashed him against him, bruising him and hurting his back.

    “ooorrghh.” The weirdo groaned, collapsing. Derek sat on him, covering his entire torso and head under his shiny black athletic shorts.  He Bounced gently, crushing the midget under his butt. It felt good.

     Meanwhile, the secretary was being tied to her desk chair by Kevin and Matt.  They’d found a coil of rope hanging on the wall.

     “You kids are in so much trouble” the woman moaned as she started to regain her senses after the punch.

     “We’re not in trouble.  You are.” Matt said. He had his big hands on her shoulders, holding her down in the chair as Kevin tied her arms to the armrest. Soon she was helpless, and Matt went behind her and promptly pressed one big soft hand over her mouth, while with his other hand he pinched her nose.

    “It’s time to smother and die.” Kevin giggled at her, sitting down on her lap and leaning close to watch as she slowly began to change colors and shiver in morbid horror, sucking desperately for air against Matt’s big, warm hands that covered her face. The boys glanced once at the door to the inner office, where their final prey awaited them. They smirked with pleasure, then returned their attention to the suffocating secretary. Her face was beet red and she was jerking about in feeble motions trying to get free from their deadly embrace, but Matt and Kevin calmly and patiently held on, doing their work. She had the YeeHaw dot com logo tattooed on her forehead. They had no mercy for the likes of her.


          In the inner office, Bill Manneur was sitting with the Vice President of Website Shutdowns, and Harbit Smacker.  Also in the room were two more YeeHaw employees, and 2 other ‘concerned citizens’ who were getting medals for reporting ‘bad sites’ so they could be censored or shut down. They were all unaware that anything was the matter outside the office.

     “With the continued support of good people like you, YeeHaw will soon be completely rid of anything even slightly abnormal.” Manneur was saying. “We don’t care about the perverted freaks who we kick off our servers, they are not people the way you and I are people—they are dangerous weirdos who will—“ but then he paused, frowning across the room towards the entrance.

     “Who are you idiotic punks!? Who let you in here!?” he lectured. 

     The other people in the room turned to see what he was talking about—there were three teenage boys entering the office.  They looked like brats.  They were tall and lanky with long arms and legs, and big hands and feet… and in fact they were barefoot. They’d left their shoes in the outer office after smothering the secretary… they wanted to kill the CEO with their bare feet. It was more fun.

    “Those boys—they—they have BLOOD on the legs of their pants!!” Harbit Smacker shouted in accusation and horror, pointing at them.

     “Yeah we do. And some of yours might end up there too.” Derek said with complete confidence.  He and his two friends had killed over 50 people in the building already, and they felt invincible. They were doing a good thing, ridding the world of morons, and having such fun at the same time.

     “Urchins!! Hooligans!! Fools!!” Manneur screamed, pointing at them and rising from his desk. “Barefoot boys with black painted fingernails and shaggy hair are not allowed in the building!! Get out of my office!! Miss Gurch, call security!!”

     Miss Gurch was the secretary.  She would not be calling anybody.


    The three boys advanced into the office, went over to a pair of YeeHaw flunkies who sat near the window drinking scotch—and shoved them out the window. The men were too amazed to react in time, and then they were tipping over backwards in their rocking chairs and crashing through the floor to ceiling picture window, racing towards the pavement 150 feet below surrounded by a sparkling cloud of broken glass.


     “What the fuck!?” Manneur roared at his desk. 

    “Mister CEO, watch your language!” Harbit Smacker lectured.

    “Shutup you prissy fool!” the executive snapped. “There’s a serious problem here!! Those teens just threw my employees out the window!!”

     He stabbed a button on the desk and roared “Securityyyyy!!” but the security man was dead already… he’d been in the conference room.

     At this point there were 7 people in the office--- the three boys, the CEO, Harbit Smacker, and two idiots sitting on a velvet couch clutching the big gold medallions they’d been awarded by YeeHaw for reporting nasty sites and groups.

     “You stupid assholes!” Derek yelled at the pair of morons on the couch. “People like you killed our friend John! It’s time to pay!!”

    “What…I don’t understand!” one of the pale men stammered.  He was short and thin, like an ugly child with a big nose and a bald patch atop his head. And he smelled like lemons too.

     Derek kicked the side of the couch, causing it to break and fall over, dumping the two frightened swine to the carpet.  The three teens lost no time. They started to jump and trample on them, mashing their fare feet down into their enemies faces, pushing and crushing. They stood on their bodies and danced.  They kicked. They did a good job, and it was fun for them. Matt was jumping back and forth from one of the idiots to the other, landing on each one’s body with both feet, then turning around and jumping back onto the other one, bruising and hurting them. 

    “No, Please stop!!” one of them cried out, his broken arm flopping madly on the rug like a bird wing. “You’re killing me!”

     “That’s the idea, man.” Derek said solemnly, then covered the guys face with his foot and pushed down.


     While the two ‘award winning citizens’ were trampled to death over a 60 second period, Manneur and Smacker were paralyzed by disbelief. Finally, the CEO began to move… he rolled slowly back away from his desk in his chair, heading for a secret door in the nearby wall so he could escape in a hidden elevator… but he was too slow. Derek saw him and threw a potted plant. It broke over his head and he fell over unconscious.

     Matt finished off the last of the two dunces on the rug by crushing his throat with his heel, then joined Derek and Kevin where they stood around the unconscious President and CEO of YeeHaw. He was a rather plump, pink-skinned man in a 5000 dollar Italian suit. Soon he would be a plump, bruised corpse in a 5000 dollar Italian suit. They would beat him to death like a dead chicken.  They would trample him and slowly flatten him out like a big piece of clay.  They would stick their feet in his face and cover his mouth and nose. They did all of this, and more, taking nearly 10 minutes before he was dead… and then they tossed him out the window.


     And that left Harbit Smacker.

     He was cowering in the corner, trembling in fear.  When they came for him, ragged and hot from their dun with the CEO, he began to rage at them. “You perverts! You freaks! You devils! You’re just primitive animals with no morals!!”

     “Shutup.  People like YOU don’t deserve to live.” Matt said, brushing his black hair out of his face. “The old order is passing.  Freaks such as yourself who don’t understand how to be tolerant of others  must be destroyed!”

     “Nooooo!” Smacker screamed. Derek stepped on his head and pushed him back down into the corner. Matt and Kevin crowded close, and together the three friends finished their mission of vengeance, pressing the life from this repulsive man under their big bare soles, pressing him down into darkness and ruin.  He clutched feebly, hopelessly at their legs, trying to hold them away, but it was pointless.  He couldn’t hope to hold them off. He made a squawking sound like a chicken as Kevin’s foot pushed down on his mouth, hurting the muscles of his jaw and crushing his lips against his teeth.

     Are you watching this John? We’re doing it for you, buddy. Derek thought with affection, feeling his heavy teenage feet crushing down into the foolish man’s abdomen as he stood there and sort of shuffled around, pressing and crushing. He could feel internal organs shifting and being displaced under his weight.  He could almost imagine he felt muscles bruising and tearing.

     Smacker managed one final scream of agony and madness, but it was a muffled scream, blocked by Kevin’s foot. Matt was standing on his chest now.  The three pals were holding onto each other, holding onto the walls, keeping their balance and keeping their weight pressing downward.  Just by standing all over him, they made sure he could not breathe.  By then moving their feet around, this additional motion caused him to start bleeding internally, caused his bones to begin cracking.

     They slowly pulverized him, and when the end came he was not very nice to look at. He never was to begin with actually…


     Derek, Matt and Kevin went back home and continued making movies and having fun with each other. Nobody ever suspected that they had carried out the massacre.  YeeHaw was taken over by another company and renamed BooYa, and they were much more tolerant of different forms of human expression than their hideous corporate predecessor had been.


---The End--