The Heavy Metal Executions (a short story)

skull and ax

That night, the theater contained a full house. In the audience sat white men and women of various ages. The men wore expensive suits. The women wore expensive dresses and jewelry.

At the moment, a bare stage sat in front of the audience.

Suddenly, loud heavy metal music blasted from the theater’s speakers. Next, a wheeled table rolled onstage. Strapped down on the table was a nude blond man. The man’s age appeared late twenty-something. A black cloth gagged his mouth.

Pushing the table was a young red-haired woman wearing a black dress.

Next, a muscle-bound man walked onstage carrying a huge ax. Jet black hair touched his shoulders. As white paint covered his face, black paint circled around his eyes as he wore black lipstick.  Also, he wore a black t-shirt containing a white, upside down, pentagram on front.

Folks in the audience started chanting.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

The redhead ungagged the blond man’s mouth and walked off stage.

“Please,” the man screamed. “Someone help me!”

The audience continued chanting.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

Ivan lifted the ax.

“Nnnooo!!!” the man screamed.

Next, Ivan slammed the ax into the man’s stomach.

The blond man released a loud shriek.

The audience cheered.

Then, they started chanting again.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

Ivan raised the bloody ax and slammed it down again.


In a cell, Cliff and Tyrone were watching the whole thing on closed-circuit television.

“Oh, my god!” Cliff yelled. “He’s chopping up Brian!”

Cliff owned short brown hair.

“You see that?!” he yelled. “Holy shit!”

Tears rolled down Tyrone’s dark-brown face. A self-proclaimed atheist, he silently started praying to The Lord to get his black ass out of this mess.


Onstage, Ivan continued slamming his bloody ax into Brian’s body.

Soon, he slammed it down on Brian’s throat, chopping off the head.

The audience cheered.

Then, they started chanting again.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

Ivan picked up Brian’s head and held it up towards the crowd.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

Carrying the head, Ivan walked off stage.


Five white men approached the cell. As a sandy-haired guy unlocked the cell door, Tyrone’s heart pounded faster and faster.

Yet, four of the men grabbed Cliff.

“No,” Cliff yelled.

With a black cloth, the sandy-haired man gagged Cliff’s mouth.

As he kicked and struggled, the men lifted Cliff in the air and carried him out of the cell.

Soon, Tyrone’s mind flashed back to the recent past.


Cliff, Brian and Tyrone were attending Electro Fest, an annual music festival taking place at St. Pablo Beach, Florida. In the field in front of a stage, thousands of people from all over the world either danced or watched the stage. Onstage, producer Tom Amoretti mixed music on his DJ setup. In his late thirties, the olive-skinned Tom Amoretti wore long dreadlocks.

A redhead approached the three guys. She wore a black t-shirt and black shorts. Tyrone noticed the woman’s round curves.

Next, the redhead silently handed each one of them a card and walked off. On the card was an invite to a party.


Soon, the redhead wheeled the strapped down and nude Cliff onstage. This time, a different metal song blasted through the theater’s speakers.

Ivan walked onstage carrying his ax.

Again, the audience cheered.

The redhead ungagged Cliff’s mouth and walked off stage.

Next, the audience started chanting.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

Ivan raised his ax in the air.

“No!” Cliff yelled. “I have a young daughter who needs me!”

Ivan slammed the ax down into Cliff’s chest.


The party took place at a huge mansion. Top 40 music played in the background. Tyrone noticed all of the people were white: no black people, no Hispanics and not even one Asian.

From a distance, Tyrone saw the redhead from Electro Fest staring at him. This time she was wearing a black dress. With a finger, she motioned for Tyrone to come over.

Then, Brian said, “Hey, bro. She wants you.”

Tyrone walked to her.

Next, the redhead held out her hand and said, “Hello, my name is Beth.”

Her voice was deeper than Tyrone expected. Not a man’s voice but a sexy feminine voice, the kind that aroused Tyrone’s insides.

He shook her hand and said, “Tyrone.”

Through small talk, Tyrone learned Beth was originally from Indiana. She followed her fiancé here to Florida.

After five months, her fiancé told her he just wasn’t feeling their relationship.

The next day, her fiancé packed his things and moved out of their apartment. Beth later found out he moved in with another woman.

“Damn,” Tyrone said.

“It’s okay,” Beth said. “I’m better off without him. So, what about you? Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m a web designer. Also, I’m a native Floridian. Born and raised in Orlando.”

“You live in Orlando now?”

“No, I live in Altamonte Springs.”

Beth smiled.

Then, she said, “You want to follow me upstairs?”

Suddenly, Tyrone felt his dick rising. This white girl wanted to give him some pussy.

“Sure,” Tyrone said.

He followed Beth up the stairs. On the second floor, they walked down the hallway and into an empty room.

 The room contained a king size bed covered with a black comforter. Black pillow cases covered the pillows.

“Sit on the bed,” Beth told him.

She walked over to a black dresser. On top of the dresser sat a bottle of Mister Pierre’s Scotch and two scotch glasses.

Beth brought all three over to the bed.


Drinking scotch was the last thing Tyrone remembered. Next thing he knew, he awakened to see himself in a cell with Brian and Cliff.

Soon, the men arrived and opened the cell.  Tyrone’s heart started pounding fast again.

Next, he yelled, “You motherfuckers stay the hell away from me!”

The men overpowered him.


Another metal song blasted as Beth pushed the nude and strapped down Tyrone onstage.

Tyrone heard a male voice say, “A nigger.”

At that moment, the audience cheered louder than they ever did all night.

Beth ungagged Tyrone’s mouth and walked off stage.

For a split second, Tyrone wished he could kick that bitch right up her ass.

Ivan walked onstage. This time, he was carrying a huge sharp knife.

The audience chanted.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

Tyrone felt Ivan grabbing his dick. Now, he knew what the sharp knife was for. Ivan was going to cut his dick off.  Tyrone realized The Lord had failed him.

Yet, he continued praying anyway.

“Jesus, help me!” he yelled. “Oh, help me, Lord!”

Suddenly, Tyrone started pissing.

Ivan released his dick.

Audience members started laughing.

Embarrassment burned Tyrone’s face.

The audience chanted again.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

After he finished pissing, Tyrone felt Ivan grabbing his dick again.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

“Come on, man!” Tyrone said. “Not my dick! Please, don’t chop off my dick, Mr. Ivan!”

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

Tyrone felt the edge of the knife touching his dick.

“I-van! I-van! I-van!”

“Nnnnooo!!!” Tyrone yelled. “Not my dick, man! Not my dick!”

Suddenly, Tyrone felt Ivan releasing his dick.

“Cut the music,” Ivan said.

The music turned off.

Ivan looked into the audience and said, “I am one-sixteenth Choctaw Indian.  Native Americans don’t consider black people their enemy. Because of that, I won’t do this.”

Tyrone heard the knife drop to the floor. The Lord answered his prayers.

The audience started booing.

As the booing continued, Ivan walked off stage.

Next, Tyrone saw Beth walk onstage towards him. She was holding a syringe needle.

“Time to go to sleep,” she said.

She injected the needle into his arm.


Tyrone awakened to a small crowd looking down at him. He found himself lying on the beach. The time appeared to be morning.

Within the crowd, he saw Beth aiming a cold look at him. She was wearing a black, two-piece, bathing suit.

“Are you okay?” Tyrone heard a young Latina ask.

Tyrone noticed Beth’s cold stare again.

“Yea,” Tyrone said. “I’m okay.”

“What happened?” the Latina asked. “Too much partying last night?”

Tyrone knew what Beth’s stare meant; keep his mouth shut about what really happened last night.

Tyrone sat up.

“Yea,” he said. “I partied too much last night.”

Beth turned and walked away.


Image by bykst


About Patrick Scott Barnes

Most of Central Florida knows Stone Crazy (Patrick Scott Barnes) as a poet. Yet, he also photographs, DJ and blogs. The rest of the time, the now sober blogger guzzles Diet Coke in Central Florida nightspots.
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