“That’s fascinating,” I said, cocking my gun. “I notice you didn’t mention bullet-proof.”
From the spot in Jay’s garden that I had managed to crawl to during the masked man’s diatribe, I sprang up and quickly fired two shots through the living-room window. They both hit their target, one stomach and one shoulder, and the man went sprawling onto his back. Holy shit, that worked!
I couldn’t resist letting out a triumphant “HA!” as I rounded the house and plowed through the open front door. I kneeled on the man as I tore his mask off to reveal…
Jay, trying to cough blood through a piece of poorly secured duct-tape.
See, kids? This is why violence never solves anything: You shoot someone because you think they’re a monster but it’s really your best friend who the monster was using as a decoy and now you’re on the run from the cops because you shot your friend with a gun registered in your name and that just sucks.
This segment won’t contain any transcripts of Enid’s logs and, for that, I apologize. I realize, by this point, a more fitting name for the series might be “Memoirs of Some Guy Who Read a Cam-Girl’s Diary and Proceeded to Make Increasingly Poor Decisions” but A.) that’s kind of a wordy title and B.) I’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment so back off.
I’m far enough away now that it felt safe to stop for a night and finally go over Jay’s condensed version of Enid’s logs. I will provide a copy of the filtered logs as soon as I can.
Oh, and I almost forgot: Of course, the video on that thumb-drive would only show a black screen after the first time I watched it but I WAS able to grab a screenshot from the initial play-through of the masked man seated in Jay’s chair. Maybe I’m just going crazy (and I’m sure that wouldn’t be too hard to believe), but I swear to god it looks like the mask is smiling in this one.
Chapter 3: Enid’s Logs (FILTERED)
[November, 2013] THURSDAY, 28th
JoylessLushClub – starts: 2:34pm
Client requests a private video-chat. His camera is aimed at a large flat-screen TV playing my least favorite moment from the movie “a Serbian Film.” I am almost positive this is that masked asshole again but then the client grabs the webcam and turns it to face himself, revealing a young Asian guy in what looks to be a college dorm room (either that or an exceptionally disgusting motel that had unframed Dali prints on all of the walls.)
“Isn’t that fucked up?” he asks, nodding at the TV. I tell him yeah but when you consider what the Serbian people have been through, it’s clear that the film is actually a poignant metaphor for their struggles. It’s just not something that I ever cared to watch again, if he didn’t mind.
“Oh my bad,” He says, sounding genuinely apologetic. He switches the TV off and turns back to the web-cam. “So…”
“Would you like me to take my shirt off?”
The client unbuckles his belt. “I would like the shit out of that.”
I remove my shirt and ask if he wants me to rub baby-oil on my breasts. “Hell yeah, and can we lose the panties too?”
He pulls off his own underwear and I start to apply the oil as he says, “I’m so glad there’s actually someone on here on Thanksgiving. I was SO fucking bored.”
“Right? I was worried there’d be nothing but total creeps on here today…”
“Yeah, I bet,” he says and nods. “Show me your feet.”
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