“A Fish in Death Valley” is an explicit taboo story: A young man is abducted by a drug gang seeking retribution. A showdown in the sun settles all scores in the searing summer heat of Death Valley.

Transcript:

Announcer: Hello and welcome. This is season eight, episode two of the “Taboo Truths and Tales” podcast series coming to you from Las Vegas, Nevada. The title of this podcast episode is “A Fish in Death Valley.” Yes, that’s what I said. So let’s get on with our story today.

Narrator: I have a story. It happened in real life. It happened to me. I hope you believe me. I made enemies with the wrong type of people, violent types. If you know what I mean.

These men would hurt you just for the entertainment value of watching someone suffering, watching someone struggle, watching them take their last breath. I was taken. Taken against my will. Yeah, that was a bad situation. Very bad. But I brought it all on myself. Me, my fault, no excuses. I don’t deserve anyone’s pity. I did it. Yeah. It was entirely my fault. I deserved what I got.

I was hit hard in the back of my head. Fucking unbelievably painful. Knocked me out. Fast. Very fast. Next thing I knew, I was naked. I woke up completely unprotected by clothing. My boots were gone, too. My work boots.

I was outdoors. It was unbelievably hot. The air felt like it was way over a hundred and ten degrees. Way over that.

I heard one of the men say, “How perfect is that?” He said that. Death Valley. I realized I was gonna die there. In Death Valley. Naked as the day I was born. Dying in Death Valley. I realized I was gonna die there.



I exhaled and wanted to cry, but that is what the men who killed me wanted to see. The men who killed me. I can say that now. I can say that now, because they did. They really did that. Killed me in Death Valley. They strung me up on a bright, white rope. The white rope caught the early afternoon sun so beautifully. I was pissed that I saw beauty in that white rope catching the early afternoon sun. Why would a guy notice the color of the rope? Fucking makes no sense. The color of the rope was white. The coarse rope hurt my neck when the man tightened the noose so deliberately.

The men wanted to watch me suffer. Yeah, they did. I was there. I was naked in Death Valley. I had a tight noose around my neck–a white rope, catching the sun’s light. Made me think of angels. Made me imagine floating way, way up in the deep blue skies over the Mojave Desert.

One of the men noticed that I was drifting off. He grabbed my nuts and squeezed hard. I paid attention to the men from that moment on. My screaming and serious pain did not stop the man from squeezing my nuts hard.



He whispered gently to me, “You’re not gonna need your balls from here on. Maybe I can cut them off right now. Would you like that? I’m gonna cut your balls off right now. You won’t believe how much that hurts. Just won’t believe it. Would you like that? Ready to lose your balls to me?”

I finally started crying. Really crying very hard, very serious crying. I was sobbing, actually, sobbing. “Please don’t cut my balls off. I beg you. Please don’t.”

All the men laughed at me. There were four men. They had the advantage over me. I could only beg. “Please don’t cut my balls off. I beg you. Please don’t.”

One of the men clenched his right hand into a very threatening fist, then he punched me in my mouth three times. Pow. The first punch made me dizzy. Then two more quick punches made me see stars. It hurt so bad. I was coughing now. Coughing on my own bloody mouth.

Another of the men said, “Let me tell you about what’s gonna happen next.” I cried like a child. I cried like a grown man who was gonna have his balls cut off by four men. Crying over that is legitimate–very justified. Nothing bad about crying over that. I believe I was perfectly justified in crying over that.

“Let me tell you,” one of the men was shouting in my left ear. “Let me tell you,” the man shouted. “This rope is part of a fancy electronic hanging machine.” The man switched from shouting to a soft whisper. “Part of a fancy electronic hanging machine,” he whispered in my left ear. I was sobbing at that point. Sobbing.

“Part of a fancy electronic hanging machine,” he whispered again in my left ear. He took one step back and showed me a cell phone he was holding in his left hand. “I can use an app,” he said in a normal speaking voice. “I can use an app that’s installed here on my phone.” I thought he was gonna dial 9-1-1, but I didn’t say that out loud. “Just by pushing a button on the app,” he said. “Just by pushing one fucking little red button!”

I was sobbing nonstop now. “The red button I’m gonna push causes an electronic motor to draw up the rope.” The other three men laughed at me. I just kept sobbing. Perfectly understandable. Yeah, perfectly understandable. For a grown man to sob as he listens to details–odd details about an electronic motor. Connected so that the electronic motor will draw up a rope and tighten the noose around his neck. Around my neck.

The electronic motor will draw that rope up and up. The noose will tighten. Oh fuck! That noose will close off my throat. That goddamn noose. It’s gonna tighten as the electronic motor does what it’s supposed to do. Draw the rope upward. The noose around my neck will hold me. I cannot get away. The noose will pull me up off the ground. Just a few inches off the ground. All that’s needed this afternoon to finish me off.

Now all four men are laughing at me. They are thrilled at what they are witnessing. They see a grown man scared shitless, naked. His neck in a noose. He knows he’s gonna die there He knows it.

“Fuck, it’s hot out here,” one of the men says. Then all four men laugh again. “We could let him stand out here in the hot afternoon sun. He would die much slower that way.” That’s what he said. I just sobbed desperately. So fucking desperately.



Then I watch the man push the red button on his cell phone app. He raises his cell phone in the air. He shakes his cell phone so that I will notice he is shaking his cell phone. His other hand pushes the red button on the app.

“Wait for it,” one of the men shouts. Oh fuck! It feels like an eternity passes.

But then there’s a cute buzzing sound coming from his cell phone. All four men laugh at that oh so cute buzzing sound coming from the cell phone. Like a little cartoon song. The man shakes his cell phone at me like he wants me to think the cell phone is dancing to the cute cartoon song. Fuck!

I feel the rope lifting me upward. All four men laugh as they watch me getting lifted upward by the rope so that the tips of my toes are barely making contact with the sand there on the floor of the desert. “Watch him stretch his fucking toes,” one of the men shouts.

The other three men laugh at me as I try to stretch my feet downward to the desert floor so that my toes can support my body weight. So that the noose does not squeeze my neck. So that I don’t get strangled by that white rope catching the hot afternoon sun in Death Valley.

“Next he will start kicking to free himself,” one of the men shouts. The other three men laugh at me as I kick my legs as if because one of them said I was gonna kick.

I just wanna get out of there. I wanna free myself. If I just kick hard enough, I just might kick one of these men. If I kick one of these men, they will set me free. They will let me go.

All four men laugh as I kick the hot air violently. They are too far away from me. I will not be able to kick any of the men. I cry out like a wounded dog. Pathetic sound. Scares me as I feel myself being lifted up higher in the air. My throat is being squeezed by that noose. All four men are laughing and applauding as they watch me.

“He is flapping around like a fish caught with a hook in his mouth–a fucking fish flapping in the air,” one of the men shouts. “Look at that guy flapping around!”

The other three men applaud in approval of my cock and ball swinging left and right, left and right, left and right, left and right. I am just a hooked fish on the line. Flapping around trying to break free. Flapping does no good. I know that now. I accept that. I may as well face the truth.

The man with the big threatening right fist steps closer to me. I am flapping, kicking, struggling desperately to free myself. He swings his big threatening right fist squarely into my nuts very hard, very fast. One time. Very hard.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I cannot scream. It is humiliating. My balls hurt so much. I cannot scream. I cannot breathe. I am being suffocated by the tightening noose around my neck. And I am kicking and jerking around trying to break the rope. Trying to get away. Trying to escape.

Please, let me get away. Please, please. I will do anything you want. Anything at all you want–just let me down from this hanging machine. Let me go. I promise I will not say anything to the cops about this. I promise, I promise, I promise, I promise. I swear. I will be quiet, silent.

Oh fuck! How hot it feels now. I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. Oh fuck! All around me, it’s getting dark. Sun must have set. Yeah, that’s it. So fucking dark around me. My lungs are burning. I have run out of air. I promise, I promise. Let me go. Let me get down from here. I promise–promise I will be good. Let me go. Let me go. Let me down. I promise. I promise. Oh fuck it hurts.

And the hot afternoon winds push me just a little bit. I feel myself swinging in the wind. Just a little. I feel myself swinging in the wind. I cannot hear anything. feel the wind. It’s so hot. I am swinging on a rope in the hot afternoon breezes. How can I feel this? I can feel the breeze. I can feel the breeze pushing me left and right.

I cannot move a muscle. I cannot hear a sound. There is only the hot afternoon breeze all around me, swinging me left and right.

Somehow I am on the ground once again. I am lying on my back. Flat on my back. I am no longer swinging in the air. Flat on my back. I feel it. Flat on my back. But I cannot see. I am blind. I cannot hear. I am deaf. I cannot move a muscle as much as I try to.

So this is what it feels like to be dead. Doesn’t feel like anything. Just nothing. Just dark. No sounds. No nothing. Nothing at all. It didn’t hurt at all. It didn’t hurt at all. Didn’t hurt. Expected it to hurt a lot, but nothing. Nothing. Not a fucking thing.

Please, please, let me out of here. I will do anything. Please. Just let me out of this place. I need to go home. I wanna be safe. I wanna get out of here. It didn’t hurt at all. Not at all. Oh fuck, I don’t wanna be dead. Gotta go back home. Please, please Let me go back home.

Announcer: You have been listening to “A Fish in Death Valley” from Las Vegas Nevada. This was written and produced by Madeira Desouza as episode two from season eight of the “Taboo Truths and Tales” podcast series. I want to thank you very much for listening to this podcast episode. I hope you will tell others about listening to “A Fish in Death Valley,” so they can also listen too.

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