Free King of the Perverts by Steve Lowe

produce a squint, but for a proper AP, you were supposed to follow with a kick to the shin to get her hopping around like she has a ‘peg leg’.” He makes air quotes when he says peg leg.
    “Your little bunny did that to herself tonight by running into the dresser, but the result ended up being the same – one pissed off bunny hopping around on one leg while squinting. The angry pirate ! After careful consideration by our panel of judges, which consists of me, myself, and I, by the way, it was decided that the result is what really counted. The chick even shouted, ‘ARRR’ at one point. It was perfect! More importantly, it was also hilarious, and if I might say so, darn good television. Let’s see HBO’s Real Sex pull off some shit like that!”
    I still don’t know what to say. Mongo claps his paw on my shoulder and smiles at me like a proud father. These two are happy as pigs in shit, but all I can think about is the ex-con running around outside somewhere wiping my DNA from her eyes and deciding which part of my body she was going to remove first.
    “So, this puts me in first place then?”
    “You got it! You’re one challenge ahead of the pack with five completed. You have five more to go. Halfway there!”
    Which is about twice as far as I actually expected to get about four days ago. Shit, I just might be able win this thing.
    Peter Oh’Tool says, “I gotta run now, but we’re sending over information on the next challenge. With the hot streak you’re on, I can’t wait to see what you do with this one. Ciao, compadre.”
    I get up and walk to the other side of the room while Mongo takes my seat and bangs away at the keys. I stand at the foot of my bed, looking at my empty suitcase. I know the reason why I didn’t start packing now. It’s the reason why I ever agreed to do this show in the first place. Why I talked myself into getting butt-ass naked in front of a bunch of hidden cameras and letting some Armenian mongoloid film me in weird sexual situations with random barflies. The only reason all along.
    I want to win that million dollars.
    And maybe I need to win it. To buy my way out of this fucked up life I’m stuck in.
    To get away from this shithole of a town in this armpit of a state.
    To forget about my disgusting tramp of an ex-wife.
    To start new, in a new place, with a new life. That’s what I really want. All I have to do is endure a little longer.
    I bend down and close my empty suitcase. As I set it back on the floor next to the bed, Mongo turns in his chair and claps his paws excitedly.
    “We have next challenge,” he says. “ Dirty sanchez !”
     

 
     
     
    Interlude 5
    The Phone Call
     
     
     
    It’s late in the afternoon and I’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess. I’ve got so many conflicting emotions going on right now.
    Am I doing the right thing here? Am I doing anything considered right or good?
    Just because Pauline told me to hit her, does that make it right that I did it?
    She’s a grown woman, after all. There are people out there into much more depraved shit than what Mongo and I are doing here. Sadists and masochists out there strapping up in leather and whipping and beating each other, autoeroticism and all that weird basement shit. And those people like it. They want to do it. Consenting adults.
    We’ve been consenting so far, right?
    Yes and no, I guess.
    Danielle didn’t ask to have a cum-and-pubes beard smeared on her face. And Pauline didn’t ask for a money shot to the eye or to be caught on camera hobbling around and ridiculed, at least not in so many words.
    That’s the real problem with this whole thing. It’s not so much about what I did with these women, but rather the way they’re going to be portrayed once the show airs. After what has happened thus far, I can’t imagine any of them will agree to allow the show to go on. Unless maybe they obscure their faces and don’t use their names. Didn’t they have to