I hope you enjoyed Disturb, and would love to hear what you thought. I wrote this back in 2002, and recently in the news there has been talk of pharmaceutical companies working on the same thing that I postulated five years ago. Let’s all hope they aren’t as unethical as the scientists in Disturb.

  Also, as an added bonus, following this afterword is a horrid little story I wrote a while back, but didn’t include in 55 Proof, called Dear Diary.

  Joe Konrath

  April, 2009

  JA Konrath’s Works Available on Nook

  Whiskey Sour

  Bloody Mary

  Rusty Nail

  Fuzzy Navel

  Cherry Bomb

  Click here for more J.A. Konrath ebooks on Nook

  Sept 15

  Dear Diary,

  First day of school! I hope this doesn’t turn into a repeat of last year, when Sue Ellen Derbin and Margaret “Superbitch” Dupont decided to try and kick me off of Pom-Pons. When I think about all those things they said about me it makes me soooo mad! Who cares if my parents never had a lot of money or anything, and so what if I don’t have any stupid designer clothes, I’m still a better person than them. They were so jealous of my blonde hair and blue eyes and my heritage. I hated those phonies soooo much!!! It’s so nice they don’t bother me anymore.

  My schedule is English, Algebra, Biology, Lunch, Gym, History, Art, and Music. It’s nice to finally be an eighth grader and get the classes I want. But I still don’t want to be here, and if I ever have kids I’ll let them decide if they want to go school or not. I don’t care if it’s a law, the law stinks and so does school!!!

  But it’s not all bad. Robert Collins is in my math class and he’s sooooo cute! He’s got the best butt I’ve ever seen on a thirteen-year-old, and when he smiles with those dimples I sincerely want to die! We got to choose our own seats and I sat next to him. Tomorrow I’ll wear more perfume and see if he notices.

  Sept 16

  Dear Diary,

  Pom-Pon tryouts were today, and I’m Captain of the first squad! With Sue Ellen and Margret Superbitch gone, it was waaaaay too easy. Debbie Baker made squad two leader, and I could tell she was pissed that I beat her out. Tough titties, Deb!!!

  But even better than that, Robert commented that he liked my perfume today! I wore a little extra, and while we were doing our problems he wrote me a note that said “Is that you who smells so good?” I almost died, right there in class.

  I know I’m going to save that note forever.

  Then I did something that was totally unlike me. I asked him if he was still going out with Pam Escher. He said no, Pam was now dating Stu Dorman. It seems Stu dumped Melissa for Pam and Pam dumped poor Robert. I feel bad for him, but not for me. Wouldn’t it be great if he asked me out?

  Sept 17

  Dear Diary,

  HE ASKED ME OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  I couldn’t believe it. We were done checking our homework and he leaned over so his lips were almost touching my ear and asked if I wanted to go out after school! So I skipped Pom-Pon practice and we walked over to Barro’s Pizza and shared a small pepperoni. I didn’t actually eat any, because of my special diet, but he didn’t notice. We talked a lot about school and about how everyone is too concerned about appearance rather than being real and he told me about his family that came from New York and I told him that my family actually came from Scandinavian. He was super intelligent and serious. I never would have guessed he was so smart because he’s so cute. I wonder if he’ll be THE ONE. He’s so cute it would be great if he was.

  Sept 18

  Dear Diary,

  I got in BIG trouble for skipping Pom-Pon practice. Debbie Baker kept sucking up to Mrs. Meaker, saying how I shouldn’t be squad captain if I didn’t show up. The little bitch. Mrs. Meaker didn’t say much, other than I had to make sure I didn’t miss it again.

  Robert and I passed notes back and forth during math. Nothing lovey-dovey, just talk because math is sooooo boring. I wish he had the same lunch period as I did. He said he would ask me out again after school but he has football practice. I told him I had Pom-Pons, and maybe we could meet after. He said great. But my practice ran late (practicing Debbie’s stupid new drills) so when I got to Barro’s he wasn’t there. I hope he isn’t mad.

  Sept 19

  Dear Diary,

  Robert looked hurt in Math today, but I wrote him a note in English to explain everything and when he read it he forgave me. He asked me out again after school, and I agreed, even though I would miss another practice. Practicing five times a week is too much, if you ask me. We met at Barro’s and got another pepperoni (which I didn’t eat), and we talked for two hours. I told him all about runestones and Viking mythology and the Heimskringla and he really seemed interested. Then halfway during our talk he reached out and held my hand. I thought I would die!!!!! His hands are so strong and big. Maybe he is THE ONE.

  Sept 20

  Dear Diary,

  WEEKEND!!!!! I’m gonna spent it all in my basement, getting stronger and watching my diet. If you want to be the best, that’s what you have to do.

  Sept 22

  Dear Diary,

  That bitch Debbie got me kicked off as squad one leader!!!!!!!!! I just missed two stupid days! I cried in the bathroom for a half hour. I want to kill her! She talked to Mrs. Meaker and Mrs. Meaker said I wasn’t meeting up to my responsibilities. I hate them both.

  Robert waited for me after practice so I had a shoulder to cry on. He even kissed me, but it was only on the cheek. He’s such a doll. He invited me over to his house for dinner, but I lied to him and said my parents already had plans. I couldn’t tell him about the basement. But maybe I will soon.

  Sept 23

  Dear Diary,

  Debbie didn’t come to school today. I wonder why? (Ha!) I asked Mrs. Meaker if I could have my squad leader position back, and she said maybe. She’ll say yes when Debbie misses another practice.

  Robert kissed me on the mouth today, for the first time! It was weird and exciting! He even used his tongue!!!!! He’s soooo sophisticated. It was right after practice. He waited for me, and wanted to walk me home. I lied and said my parents didn’t allow visitors. He believed me, and then he leaned over and kissed me. I thought my knees turned to Jell-O. I now know that he is THE ONE.

  Sept 24

  Dear Diary,

  I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’ve decided to show Robert the basement. I invited him over after practice and lied and said my parents weren’t home. I said I’d make dinner. He was impressed that I could cook. I didn’t tell him that I couldn’t.

  By the time we got to my place it was already getting dark, and Robert said he should call home and check in. But I told him to look at my basement first, because I had a big surprise.

  When I turned on the basement light, the hissing started. Robert asked if it was the furnace, and I giggled. Then I pulled the cover off the cages.

  Debbie Baker was tied up in the first one, naked, lying in a smelly puddle of her own piss. She twisted and banged her head on the cage door and looked so funny I had to laugh. Robert just stared.

  Then I pulled the tarp off the other cage. Margret “Superbitch” Dupont hissed. Sue Ellen Derbin was crying, like always. Sue Ellen had no arms or legs, and was lying naked on the hay I put down for her, which she messed again. Gross! I had to stop feeding her so much dog food.

  Superbitch Margret had one stump of an arm left, severed at the elbow. Both had those awful brown scars where I had to burn them to seal the wound after I cut off a limb. I couldn’t let them bleed to death. That wouldn’t be right.

  Robert got really freaked out, and I explained to him they were hissing because I cut out their vocal cords. That way they couldn’t attract attention. He turned around and tried to go up the stairs but I had locked the basement door. I told him I thought he was staying for dinner. That’s how you get strong. By eating your enemies. One piece at a time. That’s what my Viking ancestors did. But the people have to be alive when you eat them, or else you don’t ingest their souls. Their souls are what really made you strong. They made me strong. That’s why I was Pom-Pon captain. And that’s why I was going out with the cutest boy in school.

  As I explained this to Robert, he started to yell for help. I tried to tell him not to be scared, because he was THE ONE. THE ONE to share this secret with me. Together we could live forever. It was okay. You didn’t have to eat them all at once. You just do it a little bit at a time. I told him I had already eaten my parents. It took two years before I finished the last of Dad.

  But Robert just kept on screaming, and I finally had to hit him over the head to shut him up. I guess he wasn’t THE ONE after all.

  I stripped off his clothes and tied him up and used the long scissors to snip his vocal chords. Then I looked over his trim body and decided what I wanted to eat first. I plugged in the electric saw and built a fire in the pit to heat the cauterizing iron.

  I didn’t want Robert to bleed to death. That wouldn’t be right. I couldn’t ingest his strength then. And he looks strong enough to be able to feed me for a loooooooooong time.

  Taylor liked toes.

  He wasn’t a pervert. At least, not that kind of pervert. Taylor didn’t derive sexual gratification from feet. Women had other parts much better suited for that type of activity. But he was a sucker for a tiny foot in open-toed high heels, especially when the toenails were painted.

  Painted toes were yummy.

  The truck stop whore wore sandals, the cork wedge heels so high her toes were bent. She had small feet—they looked like a size five—and her nails matched her red mini skirt. Taylor spotted her through the windshield as she walked over to his Peterbilt, wiggling her hips and wobbling a bit. Taylor guessed she was drunk or stoned. Perhaps both.

  He climbed out of his cab. When his cowboy boots touched the pavement he reached his hands up over his head and stretched, his vertebrae cracking. The night air was hot and sticky with humidity, and he could smell his own sweat.

  The whore blew smoke from the corner of her mouth. “Hiya, stranger. My name’s Candi. With an I.”

  “I’m Taylor. With a T.”

  He smiled. She giggled, then hiccupped.

  Even in the dim parking lot light, Candi with an I was nothing to look at. Mid-thirties. Cellulite. Twenty pounds too heavy for her skirt and halter top. She wore sloppy make-up, her lipstick smeared, making Taylor wonder how many truckers she’d already blown on this midnight shift.

  But she did have very cute toes. She dropped her cigarette and crushed it into the pavement, and Taylor licked his lower lip.

  “Been on the road a long time, Taylor?”

  “Twelve hours in from Cinci. My ass is flatter than roadkill armadillo.”

  She eyed his rig. He was hauling four bulldozers on his flatbed trailer. They were heavy, and his mileage hadn’t been good, making this run much less profitable than it should have been.

  But Taylor didn’t become a trucker to get rich. He did it for other reasons.

  “You feeling lonely, Taylor? You looking for a little company?”

  Taylor knew he could use a little company right now. He could also use a meal, a hot shower, and eight hours of sleep.

  It was just a question of which need he’d cater to first.

  He looked around the truck stop lot. Pretty full for late night in Bumblefuck, Wisconsin. Over a dozen rigs and just as many cars. The 24 hour gas station had a line for the pumps, and Murray’s Eats, the all-night diner, appeared full.

  On either side of the cloverleaf there were a few other restaurants and gas stations, but Murray’s was always busy because they boasted more than food and diesel. Besides the no-hassle companionship the management and local authorities tolerated, Murray’s had a full-size truck wash, a mechanic on duty, and free showers.

  After twelve hours of caffeine sweating in this muggy Midwestern August, Taylor needed some quality time with a bar of soap just as badly as he needed quality time with a parking lot hooker.

  But it didn’t make sense to shower first, when he was only going to get messy again.

  “How much?” he asked.

  “That depends on—”

  “Half and half,” he cut her off, not needing to hear the daily menu specials.

  “Twenty-five bucks.”

  She didn’t look worth twenty-five bucks, but he wasn’t planning on paying her anyway, so he agreed.

  “Great, sugar. I just need to make a quick stop at the little girls’ room and I’ll be right back.”

  She spun on her wedges to leave, but Taylor caught her thin wrist. He knew she wasn’t going to the washroom. She was going to her pimp to give him the four Ps: Price, preferences, plate number, parking location. Taylor didn’t see any single men hanging around; only other whores, and none of them were paying attention. Her pimp was probably in the restaurant, unaware of this particular transaction, and Taylor wanted to keep it that way.

  “I’m sorta anxious to get right to it, Candi.” He smiled wide. Women loved his smile. He’d been told, many times, that he was good-looking enough to model. “If you leave me now, I might just find some other pretty girl to spend my money on.”

  Candi smiled back. “Well, we wouldn’t want that. But I’m short on protection right now, honey.”

  “I’ve got rubbers in the cab.” Taylor switched to his brooding, hurt-puppy dog look. “I need it bad, right now, Candi. So bad I’ll throw in another ten spot. That’s thirty-five bucks for something we both know will only take a few minutes.”

  Taylor watched Candi work it out in her head. This john was hot to trot, offering more than the going rate, and he’d probably be really quick. Plus, he was cute. She could probably do him fast, and pocket the whole fee without having to share it with her pimp.

  “You got yourself a date, sugar.”

  Taylor took another quick look around the lot, made sure no one was watching, and hustled Candi into his cab, climbing up behind her and locking the door.

  The truck’s windows were lightly tinted—making it difficult for anyone on the street to see inside. Not that Candi bothered to notice, or care. As soon as Taylor faced her she was pawing at his fly.

  “The bedroom is upstairs.” Taylor pointed to the stepladder in the rear of the extended cab, leading to his overhead sleeping compartment.

  “Is there enough room up there? Some of those spaces are tight.”

  “Plenty. I customized it myself. It’s to die for.”

  Taylor smiled, knowing he was being coy, knowing it didn’t matter at this point. His heart rate was up, his palms itchy, and he had that excited/sick feeling that junkies got right before they jabbed the needle in. If Candi suddenly had a change of heart, there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She was past the point of no return.

  But Candi didn’t resist. She went up first, pushing the trap door on the cab’s ceiling, climbing into the darkness above. Taylor hit the light switch on his dashboard and followed her.

  “What is this? Padding?”

  She was on her hands and knees, running her palm across the floor of the sleeper, testing its springiness with her fingers.

  “Judo mats. Extra thick. Very easy to clean up.”

  “You got mats on the walls too?” She got on her knees and reached overhead, touching the spongy material on the arced ceiling, her exposed belly jiggling.

  “Those are baffles. Keeps the sound out.” He smiled, closing the trap door behind him. “And in.”

  The lighting was subdued, just a simple overhead fixture next to the smoke alarm. The soundproofing was black foam, the mats a deep beige, and there was no furniture in the enclosure except for an inflatable rubber mattress and a medium-sized metal trunk.

  “This is kind of kinky. Are you kinky, Taylor?”

  “You might say that.”

  Taylor crawled over to the trunk at the far end of the enclosure. After dialing the combination lock, he opened the lid. Then he moved his Tupperware container aside and took out a fresh roll of paper towels, a disposable paper nose and mouth mask, and an aerosol spray can. He ripped off three paper towels, then slipped the mask on over his face, adjusting the rubber band so it didn’t catch in his hair.

  “What is that, sugar?” Candi asked. Her flirty, playful demeanor was slipping a bit.

  “Starter fluid. You squirt it into your carburetor, it helps the engine turn over. Its main ingredient is diethyl ether.”

  He held the paper towels at arm’s length, then sprayed them until they were soaked.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Candi looked panicked now. And she had good reason to be.

  “This will knock you out so I can tie you up. You’re not the prettiest flower in the bouquet, Candi with an I. But you have the cutest little toes.”

  He grinned again. But this wasn’t one of his attractive grins. The whore shrunk away from him.

  “Don’t hurt me, man! Please! I got kids!”

  “They must be so proud.”

  Taylor approached her, on his knees, savoring her fear. She tried to crawl to the right and get around him, get to the trap door. But that was closed and now concealed by matting, and Taylor knew she had no idea where it was.

  He watched her realize escape wasn’t an option, and then she dug into her little purse for a weapon or a cell phone or a bribe or something else that she thought might help but wouldn’t. Taylor hit her square in the nose, then tossed the purse aside. A small canister of pepper spray spilled out, along with a cell phone, make-up, Tic-Tacs, and several condoms.

  “You lied to me,” Taylor said, slapping her again. “You’ve got rubbers.”

  “Please…”

  “You lying little slut. Were you going to pepper spray me?”

  “No… I…”

  “Liar.” Another slap. “I think you need to be taught a lesson. And I don’t think you’ll like it. But I will.”

  Candi’s hands covered her bleeding nose and she moaned something that sounded like, “Please… My kids…”