ROGER'S FABULOUS VOYAGES, PART 3, CHAPTER 8. (standard:humor, 1734 words) [8/10] show all parts
Author: Danny Zil	Added: Jun 18 2012	Views/Reads: 2176/1654	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Roger is 'tortured' by the SS.

EIGHT 

Roger came to in a small room which was lit by a bare light bulb hanging
from a cord in the ceiling. Apart from a metal desk and two chairs 
there was no other furniture in the room. There were some hooks in the 
walls at varying heights and the floor underneath them was blood 
stained. There was an aura of evil about the place and screams and 
groans could be heard from the next room. Groggily, Roger sat up and 
looked round. 

An SS Captain was standing watching him and two uniformed heavies
guarded the door. The Captain, who was smoking a cigarette in a black 
holder, was a sadistic looking specimen. An old duelling scar ran from 
the corner of his left eye down to the corner of his mouth. His blond 
hair was razored close to his scalp. His blue eyes were cold and 
lifeless as a snake's. His tailored black SS uniform was impeccable, as 
were his highly polished black leather jackboots. 

Roger swallowed nervously and hauled himself up into a chair and looked
round. “Where am I?” he asked nervously. 

“SS Head Quarters,” the Captain's clipped voice answered coldly.
“Kapitan Kurt von Dorf at your service.” He bowed mockingly then 
clicked his heels together. 

Roger trembled. He trembled quite a lot. “I demand to see the
Commandant,” he blurted. 

“Why?” Kapitan von Dorf asked curiously. 

“To give him a big wet kiss!” Roger replied then clapped a hand over his
mouth. 

The heavies laughed. Although thick, it was obvious they understood
english. 

“Interesting,” said Kapitan von Dorf, sitting down at the desk. “I'm
sure he'll be delighted to know that.” 

The heavies sniggered. 

Roger edged his hand away from his mouth. “It's not my fault!” he
bleated. “I can't help it. I don't want to say these things, honestly. 
It's just that every now and then I'm made to say terrible things like 
Adolf Hitler was a kike faggot bastard!!” he yelled, his eyes widening 
in terror. 

Kapitan von Dorf stopped toying with his cigarette holder and stared at
him. The heavies by the door stiffened. The screams and groans from the 
next room stopped. The very building seemed to prick up its ears and 
listen. 

Roger swallowed. 

The Kapitan very calmly stubbed out his cigarette then looked over at
the heavies. “Rolf, Herman,” he said, a sadistic smile on his face, 
“bring in the manacles and the electric prod.” 

Roger fainted and slid to the floor before they left. 

The Kapitan stood up and slowly unbuttoned his uniform jacket. He
removed it and carefully draped it around his chair as Rolf and Herman 
returned. 

He pointed at Roger. “Get some water and bring him round,” he ordered. 

Rolf slipped out and returned with a bucket of water and threw it over
Roger's face. The spluttering Fleet Pilot sat up and shook his head. He 
hauled himself up on to the chair again and almost fainted for a second 
time when he saw the electric prod and the manacles lying on the desk. 

“You are fully awake?” the Kapitan asked him. 

Roger nodded. 



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