Thursday, April 20, 2017

There Was Hair All Over The Place (part 3 of 3)

On television was "Dagon Live!" the Saturday night show from the Philistine Temple of Dagon, whose location in the desert was a closely kept secret even from the show's contestants. There, in the ancient, subterranean temple of fertility, ordinary Philistine citizens competed for cash prizes by fighting political prisoners in boxing matches. The prisoners were always drugged or otherwise handicapped, so no Philistine ever lost an individual match. The challenge for the contestants was to knock out as many prisoners as they could in a limited number of rounds. The more prisoners felled, the more money for the contestant.

The opening shot of the show framed a beautiful spokes model who stood before two closely erected and ornate columns, each carved in the image of Dagon: a half-goat-half-fish entity. "Good evening and welcome to 'Dagon Live!'" the spokes model piped.

Delilah mouthed the word "bitch." She knew the spokes model. She had beat Delilah in an audition for the part on the popular show.

"Here," the spokes model continued, twisting in her sparkling dress," in the super-secret temple of our Lord God and Benefactor, Dagon the Bountiful, Philistines will compete for cash and the glory of God!" The emcee took over and introduced the first contestant, who entered between the supporting columns of the temple. Afterward he motioned the contestant to the side as a file of slouching prisoners marched in, also between the pillars.

Delilah closed her eyes. She felt like she was closing her eyes on her own life.

The door the the motel room opened. "You like mushrooms? Hope so." Even the powerful Samson appeared burdened as he balanced pizza boxes and liquor bottles in his mighty arms.

"Yeah," Delilah muttered.

"You watching that show?" Samson said. "Ain't no show for a girl like you to watch." He set down the food and undid her bonds. "'Course, I watch it pretty regular myself."

"I auditioned for it once," Delilah said.

"What? You were going to fight? Were they going to let you use your whip? You've got the fighting spirit, honey-lion."

"No, I wasn't going to be a contestant. I was going to be a spokes model."

"Well, you're pretty enough, too."

"I'm really not hungry," Delilah said.

Samson sat on the springs,opened a pizza and a bottle. "How can you watch this? All them people getting hurt."

Delilah laughed nervously.

"What? That tickle you a little?" he growled.

"It's just that after all the people you hurt, after today, you worry about people getting hurt?" Then she felt the anger coming back. "I guess if the dead are Philistine, it doesn't matter."

"You shut up!" Samson said. "How do you turn this damned TV off? Give me the control." He turned off the TV and downed a third of a bottle. "You ain't got no idea what I've seen."

"What have you seen?" Delilah asked as a sarcastic challenge. Would the man ever stop talking about his homicidal self? She tugged at her leather corset, aware that her skin stank beneath it.

"What have I seen?" He chuckled then drank deeply again. "Well, I defeated an entire army of your kind. Had some help from the Lord and a few of my good buddies, though." He shook his head and smiled. "And all throughout that battle I had the jaw bone of an ass in my fist. I shit you not. I busted their heads left and right with that bone." He paused and said as if uttering something profound and mocking it at the same time, "With the jawbone of an ass, I whooped their asses!"

"Yeah," Delilah groaned. Then she discovered that sometime during this repartee Samson had untied her. She rose to a standing position for the first time in hours, wobbling. "I guess you've seen some big stuff, alright."

"Oh," Samson said, "I guess you've seen stuff too, huh? Impress me with your life."

Delilah walked to the window and peeked through the curtain. She was too tired to be startled at the sight of a SWAT team member just outside glaring back at her. She knew that she would never subdue Samson. No one could. "I'm dead," she whispered.

"What are you talking about, hun? This'll all work out. The Lord closes one motel room door, and then he opens another motel room door. Now why don't you come over here and tell me what you're worried about."

She sat again next to him. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Shut up. I just wanted some fun."

Delilah suppressed a spasm that was a sob and a laugh at once.

"Yeah, baby. Why don't you tie me up once again? For old time's sake?"

"I hate to tell you this, Samson, but tying you up is a waste of your time and mine. Besides, all I've got to tie you with that's long enough is the laces of my corset. You'd break them if you sneezed."

"Just do it," Samson said. "You're right that nothing can hold me. And it's true I got the strength of the Lord upon me that will never, ever let me be harmed or taken prisoner. But I know how to make it work. I promise."

"You promised before." She tied him down even though the laces were barely long enough to knot around his massive chest.

"Do stuff to me."

"I can't."

Samson sighed. "It's okay, I suppose." He stared off toward the blank TV. "You know where that Dagon temple is? I'd like to get there between them pillars and mess the place up some, maybe bring down the roof. You know, it'd be a good feather in God's cap and all."

"No," she sniffed. "I've never been there.I auditioned somewhere else. The only way someone like you could get there is if you were a prisoner for one of their shows."

"Delilah, you'd be surprised what can happen."

"Samson," Delilah said, thinking of the new attack the police were preparing, "I have to tell you...."

"You know, hon, I seen lots of shit. Lot's of it. I'm a real strong guy, but I got this, you know, tired streak growing in me. I'm real tired from what I done and what I seen."

"Yeah. I think I understand."

"You know what they done to my girlfriend, these Philistines?"

"No."

"They burned her."

"My God."

"I busted them back real good. I took my revenge, but it wasn't enough. Never will be."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah. You was right. I'm just trailer trash. My folks wasn't even sure who my father was. Some guy who wondered into town. An angel? Who knows?"

"What are you talking about?"

Samson said dreamily," That guy who came through town. He said I would be a judge of Judah, a Nazarite, and that no razor should touch my head."

"What?" Delilah said, and then, feeling a sudden concern for him, "No!" She stood up. A tear ran down Samson's cheek and got lost in his long, long hair.

"Ask me, honey-cat. Ask me how I can be restrained."

"No, I won't." She looked nervously toward the window and the broken door.

"It's the only way, Delilah. It's the only way for both of us. You'll hand me over to the police. No fuss, no muss. You'll be a hero. Me, I'll be a prisoner who can bring down the house of Dagon."

"Be quiet, you piece of shit." Now she cried.

"Ask me."

"How... oh, God... how do I make you powerless, Samson?"

A few minutes later she held the straight razor Samson had provided her. She held it loosely having completed an awful task. They both cried, and a single knot in a single lace held the strongman down. There was hair all over the place.

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