Taconic

The story is told of a young couple and their small child who decided to have a picnic at a nearby campground called Taconic. The picnic grounds there were on a sprawling field of grass surrounded on three sides by canyon walls hundreds of feet high. A waterfall topples from the highest point, and the stream that feeds it is so small that the falls turn to mist before meeting the rocky well two hundred feet down. The family, the Wickers, they were called, were very excited. Taconic was a favorite, and it was a gorgeous day. As they hiked the ten minute trail that would bring them to the box-canyon, they were smiling and playful. The Wicker boy was running ahead and running behind and howling into the woods. His name was Robert and his parents loved him very much.

They set up the picnic. It was a little colder that day than it had been, so mom Wicker corralled Robert and put on the sweatshirt she’d brought just in case of that very condition. She felt good sliding the thing over her son’s shoulders. She was protecting him, warming his body and being prepared on his behalf. When she’d finished the boy ran into the field again, frolicking and jumping about, shouting some strange song or another. His excitement and boldness were spellbinding to his parents, and they sat rapt, and appreciated the canyon walls, the sun high in the May sky and the most important person in either of their lives. They didn’t even talk to each other, but instead sat content with the silence between them and the natural sounds of the day.

After a while, Dad Wicker got horny. Mom Wicker could tell by the way his breathing ticked up and his face flushed in the noon sunlight. She looked at his jeans and thought “bingo!” She attacked him then, kissing, biting, fuming and moaning all over him. She took out his cock and swallowed it whole. Fifty yards away, the boy, Robert found a toad. He was chasing it around on his hands and knees when his father bent his mom over the oven fried chicken and shoved the length of him into her with conviction. Mom Wicker cried out in equal parts pain and pleasure. Dad pumped away, screaming obscenities and growling as he thrust. There were a few other couples in the park when the Wickers had arrived, but they’d bolted when the loud moaning started, all except for one man. He was alone, and he was watching everything carefully. His name was Doug Salvatore and he’d come to Taconic to kill himself.

But the family didn’t notice. They also didn’t notice as the man turned, and headed for the far wall of the canyon. There was a path there, switching back and forth as it climbed. The man followed it, and fifteen sweaty minutes later, he was off it. Now the man was above them almost 200 feet, perched alongside the waterfall with the toes of his sneakers lipping over the edge. If the Wickers had been paying any kind of attention, they’d have been really weirded out by this climbing, perching man. Perhaps they’d have called their son back over. Maybe they would have left the area, or called the DEM cops stationed at the entrance to the park. Instead, the boy, Robert had a tea party with his toad and two imaginary friends while his father and mother tried for orgasms five and six respectively.

I’m gonna fuck your ass. I’m putting it up your ass Mom Wicker!

Oh put that cock in my ass Daddy. Ohhhhh Daddy. Ahhh. Ahhh. Ahhhhhooooooouuuuugh. Augh. Augh. Augh!!!!

Ugh.

Ugh.

Ugh!

Ugh!!

Uugghh!!!

Oh! Ow! Ow!. Whoaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mom Wicker was screaming full throat now, emboldened by the recently deserted field. Her shrieks filled the air and rolled like a noisy tide across the fields, bouncing in confusing ricochets off the high cliff walls. A flock of sparrows who’d been chattering and bleating in a nearby tree suddenly took wing all at once. A family of beavers, hard at work all morning, was startled from their damming. Robert Wicker, a bit bored now with his tea party, jumped at the sound and looked over at his parents.

Then two things happened at once. The first thing was that Daddy Wicker shouted:

Ass to mouth Mommy!

And began laying the physical groundwork of a position switch.

The second thing was that the man who’d been standing at the top of the Taconic Waterfall jumped.

Mom Wicker loved the idea. She reverse thrusted, and Daddy Wicker came out of her with a loud “Thook” sound. Little Robert the three year old was staring intently now; fascinated by this weird sort of play his parents were into. He had no clue what was happening, but he knew the words flying from her mouth were bad words. Was Daddy hurting her? Was Mommy in pain? The boy began to sprint towards his parents to help out however he could.

Meanwhile, in the sky over their heads, the jumper had gone unconscious, which was ironic since he’d been worrying about that in the days and weeks before the big event. He wanted to make sure that he was out cold at impact, so as to avoid even the slightest instant of pain. He’d considered taking a bottle of Tylenol PM™ pre-jump but decided against it. He couldn’t risk passing out before he got to the launch pad, or worse yet, on the climb up to the launch pad. Doug Salvatore was a man with a deadline. If he didn’t make it, there were things much worse than death waiting for him.

Mom and Dad Wicker are just completing the position shift. Mommy is on her knees, about the make Daddy’s shit-smelling erection disappear in her throat. The little boy, Robert, after running as fast as he could for 100 yards, had reached his parents. They finally notice him when he says:

Daddy stop!

Roberts’s parents - Daddy back-bending on his knees / mom kneeling forward with two hands on his cock like a microphone - both turn their heads at the same time, shouting in unison:

ROBERT!!!

And then Doug Salvatore, unconscious and at terminal velocity, fell on the boy’s parents with a noise like the world’s biggest baseball landing in the world’s biggest mud-puddle.

SPLURCH!

Robert was the one they would identify first. His fingers were all intact enough to get a print. Salvatore’s left foot (clad in a gigantic Timberland) clipped him on the head like a hammer strikes a roofing nail. The boy’s head exploded outward in a misty spray of brain, teeth, and hair. The rest of him absorbed the residual force and every bone in his body was turned instantly to powder. He kept oozing and sliding into the ends of the body bag they zipped him into.

His parents were another story. Doug Salvatore weighed 280 pounds, and most of that weight was first deposited directly onto the back of Mom Wicker’s head. Since her head was, at the time, hovering a few inches over her husband’s dirty dick, those two areas were all but annihilated at impact. They were compressed in an instant, everything burst and strewn about the area. Mom Wicker’s back took a knee like a jackhammer, splitting dramatically into a few pieces of meat and a spinal column. Her legs from the thigh down were left intact. They jumped and danced for a while. Daddy was turned - from the belly button down - into pile stinking crimson gruel. Above the abdomen, however, he’d remained intact. Doug Salvatore’s chin had met Daddy’s abdomen, which absorbed most of the force of impact. In the moments after the crash landing, just seconds before Doug realized he was still alive, Daddy’s poor carcass voided explosively onto the would-be suicide’s head. Doug became conscious when blood and shit started leaking into his open mouth simultaneously.

His gag reflex kicked in and he sat bolt upright, spitting, gagging, coughing, sneezing…He was dumbfounded. Taconic Park Canyon was 200 feet high. He looked around and saw the carnage all about him. Piles of shit, and puddles of gore glistened in the late day. The stench was otherworldly. He had fallen for what seemed like forever. There was no way he could still be intact but yet…

Next to him on the ground was Daddy Wicker’s head. Doug was staring at it, spellbound, when its eyes popped open. He didn’t have time to jump back before the head said:

Hi Doug!

Doug jumped back then. Yelling in terror and no longer puzzling about his fall. He had to leave. The park, the town, the state…He had to run as fast as he can from the fields and find his car and just keep moving. He took a last look at the head - silent now, eyes closed, and turned and ran straight into somebody else. A man. A non-descript man of medium height and weight. A man with eyes that changed color. Lu said:

Hi Doug!

And then Doug Salvatore closed his eyes, and shut down for a while.