Jerky

This is what happens when I'm prompted to use a Disco dance for a story. Can you guess which dance I went with? Originally written for the Not Quite Write story contest.

Another smoking, charred husk of human meat careened into the writhing maw of the Wailer.

Doug could hear the crowd of thousands erupt with righteous cheers as the next dissident, Isaac, was forced onto the platform. He was scrawny, and his wild flailing and unintelligible string of panicked cursing did little to prevent his placement at the mouth of the crackling, copper descent. A rebellious arc of electricity leapt from the charged surface of the chute.

Poor Isaac, thought Doug.

A masked woman with a fluorescent green fauxhawk rose above the gargantuan structure on a hoverfloor. She called to the ravenous observers with her amplified voice:

“Shitizens of Chode! Are you ready for more? The Wailer wants its jerky, and jerks—”

“RIDE THE SLIDE! RIDE THE SLIDE! RIDE THE SLIDE!” The screaming, filthy mass of humans filled the entire stadium with the discordant chant.

It’s all just noise. Doug stood in line with the other prisoners and tuned it out.

The Executress waved her hand. Four broadchested guards wearing spiked leather cuirasses closed in on the screaming man.

“No! Please! I’ll be good! Don’t—” His cries were cut off by the collective shove and immediate contact of his bare skin with the metal slide. Isaac convulsed and sizzled as he picked up speed.

Doug couldn’t see the moment Isaac ceased being something resembling a person, but he could imagine his friend’s burned-out carcass sliding into the Wailer’s chasm of gums.

“What a fuckin’ scrotum,” laughed another guard, “whinging all the way to the end!”

Wang Wiper, Doug scowled, Isaac will be remembered as a hero to everyone who resists. Just you wait.

More noise as the Executress played to the audience, shouting their braindead Chode propaganda. It was all so scripted. Only when she finally reached the part of her diatribe that he wanted her to say did he begin paying attention.

“—and the Wailer: Our Savior! The Beast That Calls Out! When Empathy and Reason dare to stain our kingdom of Chode, it signals us and guides us to the wretched traitors! And we, in turn, keep its colossal appetite sated with singed sacks of sorry-ass jerk jerky!”

Doug stepped out of the line. “Your ‘Savior’ is the only reason these people—” he waved his bound hands around the whole stadium, “don’t rise up to seize their world back!”

The din of the crowd faded at his brazen declaration. The Executress, taken aback for a moment, sneered down at the mouthy prisoner. Guards moved to grab him, but stopped at her raised hand. “True or not, all shitizens belong to us, for the Wailer is eternal!”

“Before you caught me, I swallowed five high-yield arc capacitors that, when overcharged, will explode four-times hotter than the sun.”

She looked confused, just as Doug thought she would. “Why would—”

“So let’s test that ‘Wailer is eternal’ theory now!” He shoved past the prisoners ahead of him and leapt for the electric slide. “Open wide, big boy! This jerky is extra spicy!”

---