'Bored Games'
by David Arkwright
It is the year 2666. The people of earth have grown desensitised to the extent that we have now come full circle, back to the ancient Roman practices of gladiatorial blood-sports for our jollies. Which was fantastic, until by lottery I won the misfortune of a place in B.M (Blue Murder) Games 12th Annual Bored Games.
I survived the early heats; Hungry Hippos with rabid Hippopotami, Kerplunk with fragmentation grenades, Buckaroo with landmines and even Twister; directed contortions on a mat with another contestant, the penalty for slipping being the low-yield semtex butt-plug you had forced up you detonating.
Sadly, the other guys arse had gone off in my face, as the referee gleefully yelled;
‘ANAL IGNITION!’ to a roar of approval from the baying audience. After that I had spent 3 hours in the showers, softly weeping under the scalding jets whilst the armed guards chanted “ass-face” at me.
Which left one, final, ordeal between me and the $10.00 prize; Operation. The objective is to safely remove your previous opponents major organs without touching implanted trigger-sensors.
Under the hot studio lights I probed into the gore of Arse-holes chest cavity, the steel tongs shaking in my hands and clattering against the splayed ribs in the hushed silence. Sweat stung my eyes as I cut the heart free and tentatively tugged it with the tongs, my heart pounding.
An angry buzz sounded. Arse-holes nose glowed red, and I whimpered my last words;
‘Oopsy-daisy…’ as the world grew bright, then disappeared.