NO TRESPASSING!

     My name is John Coldiani, and I own and run a small 200 acre farm all by myself. There is a secluded corner of the farm that includes Point Lake, part of a chain of lakes. The other lakes in the chain are public, and for years were among the best lakes for duck hunting in the state. However, the hunters over-hunted them, and now most of the ducks fly into Point Lake. Like I said, it’s the only private lake, and I have no hunting and no trespassing signs at all of the entrances to my land. Still, some hunters just won’t take “no!” for an answer, so about once a month I get a trespasser near the lake. Unknown to the hunters, I’ve installed both cameras and traps to enforce the warnings on the signs.

     One evening, right around dusk, I was in my farmhouse when I heard an alarm sound. I went to my monitor and pulled up the live feed. Sure enough, there was a young man dressed all in down, carrying a rifle and obviously planning to take some of my ducks in Point Lake. I smiled wryly, knowing that he was within ten feet of one of my traps. There was a net hidden by some loose brush, with a rope rising up and over a limb of a sturdy oak tree. The rope was wrapped all in vines so that it looked just like a vine climbing up the tree. Just beyond this was one of my best duck decoys. It was sitting on a nest, and was motion activated so that whenever a man went within ten feet of it, it began to quack softly just like a duck on a nest of eggs. I watched as the hunter lifted his rifle, took aim, and then took one final, fatal step forward for a better shot. As his right foot came down, it hit the trip wire for my trap, causing the net to enclose him as it lifted him skyward, also causing him to drop the rifle harmlessly to the ground.

     It took me about ten minutes to get to where the hunter was snared in my trap.

Ignoring his cursing and screaming for the moment, I picked up his rifle, and also discovered that his ID had fallen out of his pocket. His name was Mike, and according to his ID, he was 37, had black hair and brown eyes, he had on a down jacket, down vest and down pants and was 6’2” tall and weighed about 190 lbs. Excellent, I love a man who stays in shape!

     Just then, my young trespasser, Mike, brought me out of my reverie. “Hey, mate! What’s the meaning of this! You better bloody well release me if you know what’s good for you!”

     “Now why would I do that, my lawbreaking friend from across the pond? You are British, correct? And you did see my signs, didn’t you?”

     “Yeah, I’m British and I saw your signs, but in Great Britain all lands are public when it comes to hunting, only the farming rights belong to the farmer! Plus, you’ve got the only lake in the chain with lots of ducks! What harm can taking one duck cause? Listen, mate, you caught me fair and square breaking onto your land. But you can’t keep me like this! Just let me go, and I won’t say a word to anyone. OK, mate?”

     “So you want me to let you down from there?”

     “Yeah! Now you’re talking!”

     “OK. This may hurt a bit!” With that, I took my knife and cut the rope causing to net to fall to the ground. He wasn’t prepared for that, and his head struck the ground, knocking him unconscious. I took advantage of this by tying his arms behind his back and tying his legs together before I tied off the sack’s opening. I then waited for Mike to awaken.

     He awoke with a moan, followed by cursing once he realized that he was still my prisoner. “All right, you fucking hayseed, you better let me go! Otherwise, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of what you call a life behind bars! Now, get me out of here, arsehole!”

     “Now is that any way to talk to your jailer and executioner? Although the word “arsehole” is a bit prophetic!” I laughed out loud at my joke, although Mike apparently didn’t get the joke.

     “Jailer and executioner? You mean you’re going to kill me, just for trespassing? Are you insane?”

     “I may or may not be insane, but before the sun rises in the morning, you’re going to be well on your way to being one dead Englishman! It may take you a few days to die, however. Now, enough talk, it’s time to take you to your place of execution!”

     With that, I picked up the net containing my British captive, threw it over my shoulder and began to march further into the woodlands. Mike was putting up quite a struggle, but I’d secured him, so that all he was able to do was squirm in the net. About thirty minutes later, we arrived at a clearing, which immediately got Mike’s full attention. He looked around and saw several poles, each about 12 feet tall, planted in the ground and reaching skyward. On the end of each pole was a human skeleton, each in various stages of decay.

     “Oh, bloody hell, what is this? What happened to these men?”

     “Why, the same thing that is going to happen to you tonight, Mike. They’ve all been executed by impalement.”

     “HELP! This bloke’s a madman! Someone, anyone, help me! He’s gonna fucking kill me!”

     “First things first, Mike. No one can hear you. This patch of woodland is in the center of my 200-acre farm. That means that there’s no one around for 100 acres on each side. But you are right, I am gonna fucking kill you! Now if I were you, I’d make my peace with whatever god you worship, if any. This is gonna hurt!”

     I put the sack on the ground, and pulled Mike out of it. I laid Mike on the ground face down. There were four manacles just out from where he lay, making an X pattern. I pulled Mike’s legs to the left, and hooked one manacle onto his right leg. Next I cut the rope tying his legs together, and then pulled his left leg out and manacled it to the second manacle. Then I repeated these steps with Mike’s arms, and Mike lay there with his arms and legs to the side making a human letter X with his body.

     Mike now realized that I wasn’t playing around, and the reality of his mortality hit him hard.

     “Please, mate! I’m only 37! Let me go! I swear that I’ll never tell a soul! Please!” He caught his breath, he was crying so hard that he had trouble breathing.

     “You should have thought about that before you trespassed! Now give me a second, I need to get this pole lined up with your ass, or as you Brits like to call it, your arse!”

     Mike had seen the pole. It was tapered, starting at the tip with a width of roughly four inches, but as it progressed down its length, it widened to almost six inches across. “Please, mate, it’ll never fit! It’s too big! It’ll tear me apart!”

     “You know, you may have a point, Mike! I tell you what, I’ll lube you so it’ll slide in easier! What do you say to that?”

     “What could you possibly put inside me to lube me enough to prepare my body to accept that fucking tree?”

     “THIS!” I said, as I stepped out of my pants, exposing my erect, 10-inch dick and balls the size of tennis balls.

     “Oh, bloody hell! You’re not sticking that thing in me! Forget it, mate!”

     “You’re in no position to tell me what to do, Mike! Now I suggest you lie back and enjoy the ride!”

     With that, I positioned myself between Mike’s thighs. Taking my knife, I cut a hole in his down pants and grabbing Mike’s arse by the cheeks, I pulled them apart to allow easier access to his hole. I used no lube, simply shoving all ten inches home in one thrust. Mike howled and screamed as my dick tore past his scrotum and into his guts. Still, he seemed to calm down rather quickly, and I realized that his arse was very loose, telling me that he was gay. Indeed, as I began to rhythmically rape Mike, he began to respond to it, and his own dick, trapped painfully beneath his body in it’s down sheath, began to lengthen and harden. It took me about ten minutes to climax and send my seed shooting up Mike’s doomed ass and into his guts. I pulled out, then jacked myself off again and sprayed my cum all over Mike from head to toe! Now it was time for the main event, Mike’s execution. I approached Mike with my knife, ready to cut away his clothes.

     “Hey, mate, what do you think you’re doing? I don’t want to die, but if I must, I want to die in my clothes. At least allow me that shred of decency!”

     “Very well, Mike, but there may come a time when you rue that decision, and then it will be too late for me to do anything.”

     “It’s my bloody life, mate! I’m telling you, don’t cut off my clothing!”

     I had the pole hanging from slings holding it steady and even with Mike’s arse. There was also a sling ready to be positioned under the pole wherever it emerged from Mike’s body. I pushed the pole forward so that the rounded tip was barely touching his arse through the torn down pants. Next, I reached under Mike and opened the front of his down pants, exposing his dick and balls.

     “Hey, mate! You leave those alone! You’re a bloody pervert!”

     I found both them and the inside of the pants slick with Mike’s cum. Apparently, he’d ejaculated during the rape.

     “Gee, Mike, you made a real mess of those down pants. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to take off your pants during sex?”

     I pulled the dick and balls out of his pants. I wanted them to be free so that his humiliation would be greater, and also so that the ravens that live on my farm could fly by and enjoy a nice meal as well as avenge the ducks that Mike had planned to shoot. I also opened Mike’s down vest and coat, exposing his hairy chest to the elements as well.

     Now I went to the other end of the 12-foot pole and picked up an iron mallet. I struck the end of the pole, and the tip began its entrance into Mike’s arse.

     “Bloody HELL! Take it out! PLEASE!! You’re ripping me apart! It won’t fit!”

     I ignored Mike’s protestations, and continued striking the pole with my mallet. Ever so slowly, centimeter-by-centimeter, the pole continued its journey through Mike’s body, first entering his arse, then into his guts, continuing through his torso up into his chest cavity. Mike had probably hoped for a quick death, but by using a blunted pole, I was able to traverse the interior of his body without damaging major organs or blood vessels, simply pushing them off to the side. After about an hour of this, I noticed a bulge near Mike’s right shoulder, and as Mike gave voice to the loudest scream yet, the tip of the pole emerged just under his right shoulder at the armpit. I kept striking the pole until about two inches protruded from the shoulder. Satisfied that Mike would never leave his pole, dead or alive, I ceased my labors and released Mike’s arms and legs from the manacles.

     Now came the delicate part of planting my latest human tree in the forest. First, I attached the sling at the top of the pole where it exited Mike’s shoulder. Then I cut away the sling near the end where I’d been working, causing that end of the pole to tilt downwards into a prepared hole. Next, I activated a pulley holding the sling near his shoulder causing that end of the pole to rise up, and causing the lowest two feet of the pole to drop neatly into the hole. Once the pole was vertical, it was simple to fill it in so that it was held firm. As I looked up, there was Mike about seven or eight feet off the ground, screaming and wailing as he swung his arms and kicked his feet in a futile attempt to remove himself from the pole. In actuality, all his struggles did was to cause him to slide down further on the pole, his travels being greased by the blood, semen and other bodily fluids oozing from his arse. Due to the tapering of the pole, he only fell a couple of feet before he stopped. I set up cameras all around Mike’s “tree” so that I could watch his execution from the comfort of the farmhouse. Mike tried one final time to try and have me show mercy.

     “Hey, mate! Please don’t leave me like this. I know I’m gonna die, but this is inhumane! Please, take my rifle and shoot me! Let me die quickly! PLEASE! I’m begging you!”

     I didn’t reply, I just cleaned up the area, picked up my tools and began the walk back to the farmhouse. Mike continued to yell after me.

     “Hey, come back here! Please!! Don’t leave me like this! You can’t leave me like this!”

     Unknown to Mike, I also had installed microphones at the base of his pole. All of a sudden, my voice came through.

     “Mike, I’m right here! Don’t you see me, mate?” He didn’t realize I was half way to the farmhouse, and had been speaking through my smartphone.

     “Where are you? I can hear you, but can’t see you?”

     “Mike, I’m right here! Oh, I know what’s happening. You’re getting delirious. Probably it’s from all the trauma and shock your body’s going through. It’s causing you to have issues with your vision. Sucks to be you, mate!”

     “You may be right. Please, mate, stay with me! I don’t want to die alone! PLEASE! Promise me!”

     “I promise I’ll watch you every second until you die, Mike!” The idiot didn’t realize I was speaking from the warmth and coziness of my farmhouse, as I watched him on my cameras. It was quite a sight. Mike’s thin tall frame trapped on that unforgiving pole. The pole’s pressure on his prostate caused his dick to be rock hard, and even when he shot a load of cum, he hardened up almost immediately.  There were cum stains all over his clothing. I also noticed insects and other wildlife were becoming interested in Mike. The bodily fluids oozing out of him and down the pole attracted cockroaches, flies, ants and other vermin who began to march up the pole to my helpless victim. About six hours in, I heard Mike’s screams become louder as ants and cockroaches began to invade his various orifices, and the flies began coming and going, laying their eggs that would soon hatch into maggots. Knowing that the insects would keep Mike up all night, I decided to retire and sleep in my comfortable bed. I knew Mike would still be alive and kicking on his pole in the morning, his attention to his fitness assured that, although right now I think that he’d much rather be fat and out of shape instead of having such a muscular physique.

     I awoke the next morning, and discovered that Mike had not had a restful night. Apparently at some point, out of need or possibly fear, he had pissed himself, as there was a rather large yellow stain on his down pants. I enjoyed my breakfast as I watched Mike’s continuing mental and physical decline.

     “Hey, everyone, look at me! I can fly!” This was followed by Mike lifting his arms up and down in a pathetic imitation of flight. This had an undesired effect, as three very large ravens landed near Mike. Two of them were on his shoulders, while one perched itself on his thigh. The two on his shoulders immediately began to peck at his eyes. Mike tried to swat them away with his arms. For a while he had some success, as they flew away, but very soon they returned and continued their assault on Mike’s vision. Mike’s strength finally waned, and the two crows succeeded in blinding him.

     The raven on Mike’s thigh was eyeing a bigger prize, Mike’s erect dick and those delectable looking balls! Mike was already kicking and struggling from the loss of his eyes. He was moaning, he was too weak to scream. Suddenly, the raven began pecking at Mike’s right nut. Mike tries to shake it off, but the bird has a single-minded determination. After about ten minutes, it succeeds in tearing the sack open, and the nut drops out hanging by its cord. Mike has a huge orgasm as this happens, sending ropes of cum 10 feet away. The raven bit down and swallowed the nut. It then repeated this with Mike’s left nut, with Mike moaning in obvious pain. Finally, a second raven joined the first, and together they made short work of Mike’s now shriveled cock. Their appetites satiated, they then flew off with the other birds. I kept watching, and Mike bled out within ten minutes. Like the previous men who had violated my lands, I left Mike’s body on the pole to rot. About a month later, I was in my farmhouse again, when my alarms went off and I found another man had been foolish enough to ignore my warning signs. As I marched him into the woods to face the same punishment that Mike had received, I looked up at Mike’s pole, and found only a skeleton remained, still clad in remnants of its down clothing..

DOWN FOR THE COUNT

     Luke Samson was the defending champion in the Great Lakes Wrestling Tournament in his weight class. He was 28, 5’8” and 158 lbs with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. The tournament was next weekend, and he’d been practicing relentlessly so that his body was in the best shape of his career. He intended to successfully defend the title. Tonight, he was at home watching tape of another young, strong wrestler, Barry Davis. Barry had come in second last year, and was widely regarded as Luke’s greatest threat. Barry was 26 with jet-black hair, brown eyes, and was 5’9” tall and 165 lbs. He was quick and fast, but was totally out-classed by Luke when it came to talent.

     Barry was with his older brother Kevin. Kevin was also a wrestler, but was 30 years old with brown hair and eyes, and was 6’ tall and 195 lbs. He was also a champion last year in his weight class, and was heavily favored to win his belt again this year. They were sitting around discussing moves, when Barry mentioned Luke.

    “Kevin, I want to win a belt this year, too! But that damn Luke Samson’s in my weight class, and there’s no way I can beat him! He’s way too fast. What can I do?”

     “Barry, everyone has a weakness, and Luke’s no exception.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Luke is head over heels in love with Laura. He’d do just about anything for that girl!”

     “Well, yeah. Just like I would for Sarah. But how does that help me win a title?”

     “Do you still have Luke’s cell phone number?”

     “Yeah, but what good is that? Surely you’re not suggesting I call him and ask him to throw the match?”

     “Barry, trust your older brother. Give me the number, and I guarantee you Luke won’t show for the match!”

     “But how can you guarantee that, Kevin?”

     “Just give me the damn number!”

     “Okay, here it is!”

     Kevin used the number to send a text to Luke. The text read as follows.

     “Luke, it’s Laura. I went out on old route 384, and I ran out of gas. A nice farmer let me borrow his phone to send you this text. Silly me, I forgot to charge my phone and it’s dead. Please be a dear and come bring me a can of gasoline. I parked my car in the barn, and I’ll meet you there. There’s a sign by the entrance that reads “The Two D’s”.  That’s the farm. The farmer’s such a nice man; I know you’ll love him! See you soon, Luke!”

     Luke saw the message and immediately jumped into his black convertible Corvette. He made a quick stop at a gas station, and then headed out on old route 384, which at one point had been a major highway, but was now a two-lane road, with only farms and woodlands along its path. It took a good two hours to reach the farm. The barn was about a mile down a dirt path. He drove down the path, and parked his Corvette. Then he grabbed the gas can, and headed for the barn. He opened the doors and called out Laura’s name. In the dark, he couldn’t see anything. Suddenly, the barn lit up, someone had thrown a switch, turning on an overhead bank of lights. Luke was temporarily blinded, but as his eyes adjusted he saw Barry Davis wearing a wrestling singlet.

     “What are you doing here, Davis? And where is Laura?”

     “Oh, she’s not here, Samson. And I’m here to ask you not to defend your title.”

     “What are you smoking, Davis? There’s no way I’m going to miss that tournament! And it will be a special pleasure pinning your sorry ass! And Laura sent me a text that she was here, so once again, where’s my girl?”

     Barry read the text word for word to Luke, and it suddenly dawned on Luke that he’d been tricked! He was still confused, though. He knew Barry Davis very well, and the man didn’t have two working brain cells to rub together! But Luke would have no time to ponder that. With a roar, Barry charged at Luke, who was dressed in street clothes, not wrestling attire. But even in street clothes, Luke was twice the wrestler that Barry was. He sidestepped the charging bull-headed man, and quickly put him in a chokehold. Barry was struggling for air, but Luke clamped down even tighter. He was solely focused on knocking out Barry, and then heading back to town. Unfortunately, he was so pre-occupied with Barry, that he didn’t even realize Kevin was in the barn until it was too late. Just as Barry’s knees began to buckle, Kevin stepped behind Luke and brought his arms up under his armpits, and then locked his hands behind Luke’s neck. Luke was totally taken off guard and was instantly immobilized. Barry pulled away from Luke’s struggling fingers and took a few deep breaths of life-giving air. Now it was time for phase two of the Davis brothers plan.

     As Luke continued to struggle, Barry donned a special pair of weighted gloves. With an evil smile on his face, he delivered a solid punch right to Luke’s abs. Luke grunted in pain, as the wind was knocked out of him. Then he looked at Barry and said, “Is that the best you can do? No wonder you’re such a loser as a wrestler!”

     Barry didn’t reply to Luke, he instead addressed his reply to his brother. “Hold him tight, Kevin! I want the son of a bitch to feel every punch!”

     As Barry approached again, Luke realized that the man holding him was Barry’s older brother! This was serious!

     Barry sent another flurry of blows to Luke’s stomach. Luke’s well-defined abs were turning black and blue, and losing a lot of their sharpness. Barry worked non-stop on Luke’s abs for the next 15 minutes. By the end of the time, Luke was visibly sagging in Kevin’s arms.

     Kevin then spoke up. “Barry, we need to wrap this up soon. I know you’ve had a lot of fun beating Samson’s abs to a pulp, but now we need a knockout blow. Take your right hand and drive it into the bottom of Samson’s chin, just like I taught you! One nice strong uppercut, little brother!”

     Barry followed suit, and instantly put Luke’s lights out. Once Luke was no longer a threat, they took Luke further into the barn, stripped him naked and tied his hands over his head with a rope dangling from the ceiling. They now waited for Luke to awaken.

     Thirty minutes had passed and Luke was still out cold. Kevin looked at his little brother and said, “Man, Barry, I hope you didn’t kill him! We don’t want him dead, YET! HAHAHAHA!”

     Before Barry could reply, both brothers heard a groan, and looked over to see a bruised and battered Luke begin to stir. They also noticed that blood was dripping from a split lip Luke had suffered when Barry delivered his uppercut!

     Luke slowly focused his eyes, as he regained consciousness. He realized immediately that he’d been stripped of his clothes.

     “Hey, you motherfuckers! What’s the meaning of this? I’ll see you both in prison for kidnapping!”

     Kevin replied, “Hey, Barry, Samson’s threatening to send us to prison! Are you scared, Barry?”

     “Of course I’m not scared! How can he send us to prison when he’ll be rotting in HELL!”?

     “What the fuck are you two assholes talking about?”

     “Samson, it’s like this. I asked you real nice to not show up to defend your title and you refused my very reasonable request. So now, we have no choice but to kill you!”

     Luke realized that both men were serious; they actually planned to kill him! He also realized that naked and bound, there was very little if anything that he could do to prevent it!

     Luke began screaming, “HELP!!!! MURDER!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!”

Kevin looked at Luke and said, “Go ahead and scream, Samson! My brother and I use your fear as motivation and energy to kill you, and the closest farm is ten miles away!”

     Luke asked how they knew where the nearest farm was, and Kevin explained that their father had farmed this land for decades, and when he died last year, Kevin and Barry inherited it. It had been kept out of the papers, and they hadn’t even used the farm since their father died. In fact, they had planned on putting it up for sale, until they realized it would be a perfect setting to murder Luke.

     “Enough talk for now, Samson! My little brother and I have work to do.” With that, both brothers donned weighted gloves, and began using Luke as a punching bag; hitting him in the abs, lower back, genitals and ass. Soon, Luke looked like he was wearing a belt, but not a championship belt. It was a belt of black and blue marks that totally encircled Luke’s waist. At first, Luke was crying out in pain, and even cursing his killers from time to time. But about midway through the beating, Luke lost consciousness and sagged in his bonds as the beating continued. Satisfied with the effects of the beating, both men took a well-deserved break to wait for Luke to once again awaken.

     This time, it took about an hour for Luke to awaken, and when he did, he found he was in constant pain, regardless of how he moved his body. He looked at his captors and saw nothing but hatred and vengeance in their faces. “Guys, be reasonable, there’s no way you’ll ever get away with this. Laura will have the cops looking everywhere. Just let me go. I’ll even promise to stay away from the tournament. I’ll say I got a bad cold, and I have to withdraw. What do you say, guys?”

     Kevin grabbed Luke by the face! “Listen, Samson, there’s no way you’re leaving this barn alive! You’d turn us in the first chance you got! Now, you better say your prayers, because when you wake up next time, it will be dying time for you, asshole!”

     Luke said, “What do you mean?” but before he could say anything else, Kevin had delivered a vicious uppercut, knocking out Luke once again!

     The two men untied Luke from the overhead rope, and then dragged him to a spot about ten feet away. They stood him on the back of a farm wagon and tied his ankles together, then his knees, and then bound his arms behind his back. Finally, Kevin brought the noose over Luke’s head, cinching it tight with the knot at his left ear. Barry held Luke upright, while Kevin took the free end and dragged it to a nearby pole. He pulled it taut, so that Luke was forced to stay upright, and then tied it to the pole. Luke woke up, and instantly saw that he’d been noosed! He saw that he was on a wagon, with Kevin in the driver’s seat and two horses pulling the wagon. Barry was by the door to the barn, opening it. Luke started to cry out, “NO!” but his words were cut off as Barry cracked the whip and the horses and wagon began to race towards the door. Within seconds, Luke was hanging free, trying in vain to find the floor of the barn. Kevin knew what he was doing, he’d set the noose so that there was no drop, and Luke was left to slowly strangle to death.

     With Kevin and Barry watching intently, Luke’s body began to jerk and twitch. Within a few minutes, they saw his face begin to turn from a healthy tan color to orange and then red. His mouth began to open and close, trying in vain to bring life-giving air into his lungs.

     Kevin looked at Luke as he struggled, with Luke’s muscles bulging against the restraints, and said, “Hey, Samson, what’s wrong? A strong man like you with all those muscles can’t break the ropes binding you and free yourself? Man, you’re one sorry ass excuse for a wrestler!”

     Barry was also caught up in the excitement of watching Luke die. He yelled out, “Hey, Kevin! Maybe after Samson’s dead, you can console his girlfriend Laura. At least with you, she’ll see what a REAL man is like, not this wimpy asswipe!”

     In a few minutes more, his face and extremities took on a bluish tint, as his heart stopped circulating the blood through his body, and his tongue, also blue, protruded between his split lips. Then with a final sigh, Luke’s body became still for the final time. Kevin and Barry left his body hanging for another hour. Then they cut the rope, letting the corpse fall to the floor. The body was placed in the wagon, and they took the body out to a field. There, Luke was fed into a woodchipper, reducing his body to unrecognizable bits of flesh and bone. Now all that was left was to get rid of Luke’s car.

     Barry drove Luke’s Corvette, with Kevin following in their car. They went out to a cliff face in the country. Once there, they took the can of gas that Luke had brought with him, and doused the car with the gasoline. They also put a rag in the gas tank and lit the rag, then pushed the Corvette over the cliff. A few seconds later, they were rewarded with a very loud fireball and explosion.

     As they got in their car, Kevin turned to Barry and said, “That’s the end of that! Now, let’s get ready to go win us a pair of belts!”

     That weekend, the entire arena was abuzz. Defending champion Luke Samson had been missing for three days, and there had been no sight of him. Suddenly, the announcer called for Laura to report to security. She raced off, hoping that it meant that Luke had been found. Her hopes were soon dashed, however! “I’m sorry, Laura. We just found Luke’s car. You know that bad curve on county road 495? It looks like Luke was out in his Corvette, and took the curve too fast! He went over the cliff and the car exploded in a fireball! I’m afraid he’s dead!”

    Laura flew into hysterics, but eventually composed herself enough to ask when she could claim the body. “I’m sorry, Laura. We didn’t find his body. It probably got all burned up in the fireball! Please accept our condolences!”

    Meanwhile, up in the ring, the belts were being awarded. Kevin and Brady Davis stood arm in arm, both proudly wearing their championship belts, a repeat for Kevin and the first of many that Brady would win over the years!