The Life and Death of Me in the Silken Arms of Pedro the Great

artwork by Mark Okui


It all seems so strange to me now like some old fading dream, but dear reader I assure you that this was no dream. No the story you are about to read is real! I know...I lived through it. But wait! Let me start from the beginning when everything was still calm...when everything made sense....

I was doing what I loved best...sailing. I had been in the South Pacific for about a month and had grown quite fond of the warm calm weather. I remember I was just off Tahiti; it was a sunny day, the air was warm and pleasant, and the water was crystal clear. I remember doing some light repairs on a sail and just relaxing in the sunshine. "A little swim won't do me in" I thought as I threw on my thong bikini and lathered up my buttocks with suntan lotion.

I sashéd over to the edge of my boat and gracefully slid unto an upside-down swan dive that would have made Farrah Fawcett proud. I hit the water hard, exposing my genitalia to the cold choppy ocean, and grinned as I felt my tight little shorts being torn from me. I surfaced coughing and wheezing like a Guadalupian gimp. Managing to retain consciousness, I clawed aimlessly through the water in a spastic attempt to re-clothe myself proper. Just then the sea became rough and unfriendly, so I jumped back on my boat. The sky had become dark and grey and the wind started to howl and was whipping at my sails. I scurried to secure myself and my property...and that's when I saw it. It covered the whole skyline in blackness. It was huge...too huge! Like three buildings stacked on top of three buildings!...and it was screaming wildly.

What was this monster from the deep? This huge Demon that blocked out the earth's light? I grabbed for my spectacles and threw them on in an attempt to see clearly... and see clearly I did!

It was horrible! My brain raced wildly as I stumbled backwards. Could this be real? Was this really happening to me? Was I actually about to be swallowed whole by a 250 foot rubber chicken?

I screeched like a tiny female weasel and grabbed for my pistol. I checked to see if there were any bullets...only one solitary bullet lay there in the case. It was my lucky silver bullet that my poor uncle Murray gave me (uncle Murray had killed a whole village of rubber chickens with this single bullet back in 31.) "No time to even think" I thought as I prepared myself to do battle with this rubber devil.

Next thing I knew I felt my left arm being torn from me. I lurched back and saw the monster was upon me, right there eating my flesh like a fried frog leg all moist and meaty. I began getting all misty and I could feel the corpuscles in my brain filling with gallons of ruby red blood. With one hand left I loaded up my gun in a sad attempt to stop this fricken floppy heathen.

I saw it bending down towards me, with its huge rubber arms bouncing and dangling in the heat of some twisted sexual fit. "The Bastard!" I thought, as it grabbed me in its beak and bit me in two large chunks of gurgling meat.

As my brain began shutting off I could hear his cute little sounds of sinful passion ringing sweetly in my ears. I watched in horror as my legs and torso fell into his hideous open gullet while my upper portion was left suspended there on the side of his face like a shivering human bread crumb.

I tell you folks, I lived like that for close to six long years. It was a sorry sight to see, a huge 250 foot rubber chicken attacking and pillaging ocean liners and steamships alike and all the time me just stuck there on the side of his chin. I watched in horror all the terrible things he did, the blood baths, the unthinkable death orgies.

I saw it all I tell you, but after a while I started to become used to it all, and sometimes even enjoyed it a bit. I starting rooting for him when we went a-pillaging. In time we became close friends and I named him "Pedro the Great": after my poor deceased grandmother (god rest her soul).

Well, needless to say, me and Pedro had some wild times together. We even made-out a few times when we were pretty sure no one was looking. I began to know him as Pedro the Frisky and I tell you there was something in the air.

But dear readers, please believe me when I say that the whole time I stayed with Pedro, through sickness and health, through good times and bad...I never let him get past second base! Even on our anniversary! (I'm no floozy don't you know!)

THE END

Troy Bruno Balthazar

Ben Is Dead #28 ("Bentime Stories") (September 1997)