CEMENT SHOES

She walked through the casino parking garage.  It was very late, and she had

been playing blackjack all night.  She had a great arrangement going on with

one of the pit bosses.  He let her win while she kept him sexually satisfied.

Her boyfriend Tony never knew what was going on, or so she thought.

Suddenly, a black Cadillac pulled up alongside her.  It had been silently

tailing her, but she never heard it because she only wearily thought about

reaching her car.  Just as it stopped, a large man bolted out, whisking her

into the back seat.  "Where are you taking me?", she asked in vain.  The

Cadillac sped towards the Jersey Shore into the night.

Though she was blindfolded for the duration, she could tell from the salt air

that they were headed for the docks.  The Cadillac stopped alongside a

party fishing boat, and its passengers filed out and headed up its walkway.

She stumbled awkwardly onto the boat, where she was led into a dimly-lit

room.  The blindfold was removed, and the first thing she saw was a large

tub of wet cement.  Her worst fears were suddenly realized.  She looked

incredulously at her captors, hoping it wasn't what she though it was,...

but it was!  She started to cry, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Take your shoes off hon, your gettin' a custom fit!", a raspy voice called

out to her.

Reluctantly, she slipped off her shiny black pumps, revealing a stunning

pair of bare feet.  The floor felt cold and damp and slightly itchy as she

stood, staring down at her alabaster feet.  "O.K. hon, you know what comes

next, let's go!", the voice said again.  Not only was she going to die, she

was going to feel the instrument of her death between her toes!  The focus was

on her face.  All eyes could see her moving slightly forward and left; she was

lifting her right foot.  Suddenly, a slow, slurping, gurgly sound could be

heard.  It was the sound she made as a young girl, when she played barefoot

in the mud,... but this wasn't mud!  Her face began to writhe in agony as the

cold cement sent a chill through her leg, up her spine.  The sucking sound

culminated in a dull thud; her foot had reached the bottom of the tub.  Her

tears intensified - she began to plead, "No, please, no...", but to no avail.

"C'mon now hon, you can do it again!", the voice beckoned.  Slowly, the

focus moved down as she proceeded to lift her left foot.  A dim light sparkled

off her gold ankle bracelet.  She raised her foot and began to splay her

beautifully pedicured toes, which were painted a seductive red.  She gingerly

penetrated the silky cement with her long, slender toes.  The thick, sticky

mass oozed and lathed between them, making the same gurgling sound as

her other foot.  As she bared down with her weight, the displaced cement

engulfed her foot hungrily, sucking it down around her ankle.  Finally, there

was another thud,  and she was standing well past her ankles in the

batter-like substance.  A chair was produced and she was invited to sit

down, while her hands were tied behind her back.

She began to wriggle her toes in the thickening slag.  It seemed to get warmer

as she churned it between her toes, around her soles, then past her ankles in

a continuous circular motion.  It felt almost relaxing, not unlike the

paraffin treatments she would get at the beauty salon.  If she kept it up,

could she prevent it from setting?  She found she couldn't swirl her feet

non-stop for more than a minute.  Each revolution seemed slightly more

difficult than the previous.  It was as if thousands of tiny strands of thread

were weaving between her toes, slowly binding them together.  The voice called

out again, "Don't bother squishin' it up hon, it's quick-drying!"  She tried

to keep it up for a few minutes, but eventually lapsed into an exhausted

stupor as she contemplated her fate.  Time passed by, but she got no feedback

from her captors.  Who were they?  What had she done to deserve this?  There

were no answers.  Finally, the leader called out, as if to gauge time, "Why

don't you try wigglin' your toes now hon?"  She couldn't remember if she

had been doing this all the while.  She lost track of time.  How much had

elapsed?  Five minutes?  Thirty minutes?  She proceeded to wiggle her tired

digits, then began crying harder.  "I can't!", she said with a whimper.  The

cement had completely hardened, encasing her beautiful bare feet from her

shins to her toes!

Finally, the leader called out, "O.K. hon, we're ready for the next phase!"

Someone went behind her and cut her hands loose.  Two large men on either

side helped her out of the chair.  She lacked circulation in her arms and legs

and began to shiver.  She almost collapsed under her own weight, her legs too

weak to hold her up.  A handtruck was wheeled behind her, and the two men

strained to set her upon it.  Suddenly she realized that she would soon meet

her demise.  She began to scream and howl, competing with the loud squeaking

from the handtruck wheels.  A side door was flung open to reveal choppy water,

lit by the light of the moon.  She stood by the edge, tottering with each

pitch of the boat, trying to maintain her balance.  Suddenly, a familiar voice

called out, "This is what you get for stealing from my Family!"  It was Tony!

She tried to call out to him, but could feel a shove in her lower back.  She

fell overboard and plunged into the sea, her arms reaching over her head to

grab the heavens.