Teddy Pass

Teddy Pass



Sounds like a porno, doesn't it? Well, it's not.

Teddy Pass is a highly dangerous game in which death is very likely to occur. It is not intended for whiny bitches or those who have a will to live. You think I'm joking. I'm not.

The game: Pass a teddy bear around counter-clockwise and whoever has it must put something of themselves inside it. Then the next. And the next. Until the bear itself has the ingredients to substain a life of its own.

All five players are to be stricken of devices that could be used for emergency contact prior to game start.

Dealer holds the key.

Let the game begin.

I followed the center of the seam all the way down, opened it up, ripped the stuffing out, and placed the comatose bear in the center of the circle we had created.

Five questions. Five answers.

Stan looked more than nervous when the game started. It was easy to tell that he didn't want to participate in the first place, but good ol' Stan, a loner sixteen-year-old, just had to hang with the cool kids. And loved to show off. Fair enough.

He was asked one question. How is your pain tolerance? The answer: Oh, I can take pain. One time I had a...

OK, Stan. That will do. Shut the fuck up now.

I hand him a pair of pliers. He shrugged and then put them in his mouth. Yeah, he was going to show me just how brave he really was. Until he started screaming like a little bitch. Stan pulled the pliers back and shook his head.

I can't do it.

You will.

No. I don't want to play this game anymore.

You pull the tooth, suffer a little pain and then you go on. You don't, and you die.

His face scrunched up in a wine. The once, felt good to be included attitude was quickly replaced with fear and dread.

Stan squeezed his eyes, let out a painful yell and yanked his tooth out. Blood ran down his lips and chin in a river. His brown eyes rolled to the back of head just before he collapsed on the cold, hard ground. That's fine. He did what he was told. He could die now.

The bear moved in delight as I picked up the ripped tooth and placed it in the hole I had cut. The look on the guy's eyes as a set of teeth appeared in its half crooked smile was fucking priceless.

Fear and astonishment.

I fucking loved it.

Kent was next. How is your health? His answer: Great.

Well then... let's draw some blood, shall we...

I handed him a blade and a small cup.

The way he was all in for the game and didn't hesitate to insert the tip into his flesh impressed. He pushed it deeper and deeper until drops of crimson came forth.

Kent looked drunk. His blood poured out and into the cup, eyes bugged out as he took a deep breath placed his hand over the gash. And slowly, he fell back in an intoxicating haze.

A web of veins appeared under the bear's brown fabric. Blue and vibrant in color. Both big and small.

Two down.

Next player..

Ryder squirmed, unable to stay still for more than a few seconds. He was waiting for the right opportunity,no doubt, to get up and bolt away without enduring the consequences it would bring. Like he would have been able to anyway. Not with a highly powered underground electrical fence in place.

I watched his eyes dart from left to right. Looking over the bodies of his near death friends. He knew. But, he could do nothing about it.

How is your vision? I asked.

He stammered. Sweat beaded off of him. Unable to control.

Its excellent. He whispered.

Then you know what I want you to do.

I handed him a scalpel. He refused it at first, but then quickly realized the only way out was to just do it and get it over with.

I nodded in agreement and told him once he has completed the task, he was free to leave.

Ryder screamed as he cut into the socket of his left eye. Blood filled his face. Fear. Death. Pain. He severed the muscles and tissue, furiously cutting at it quickly and without care. His life depended on it.

With a finger and a few more screams of mercy, the ping-pong shape eyeball popped out of the socket and he dropped like a watermelon to concrete. He tried so hard to grab at the grass in a desperate attempt to get away. To get help, but the pain... the pain was just too much.

Guess you won't be leaving just yet. Good. You'll get to see the final show.

Next player...

Trent screamed. He begged and pleaded. But he had known the consequences of the game. The dedication required. The objective. And he was in too deep now to just be let go. Stupid kids.

The question: How fast is your heart beating?

He shook his head and refused to answer.

You will answer or you will have a double penalty.

OK. OK. It's beating fast.

Very good.

His shaking hand wrapped around the handle of the blade. Tears streamed down his face.

Start from the bottom of your Adam's apple and cut down the center of your chest to your navel. Pull the flaps open, break your rib cage and cut your heart out.

But I'll die.

It’s likely.

Trent slowly and hesitantly took off his white muscle shirt then prepared himself for the cut. The blade rested on the bottom of his throat. Then just stopped. This mother fucker took a few steps back and then dropped the knife like a rebellious teenager.

Well, if I'm going to die anyway, it'll be how I want.

Brave. I'll give him that. But incredibly stupid.

He had a sudden rush of adrenaline as he turned to run. Sparks of light jumped up like a firecracker as soon as his foot made contact with the underground fence.

I couldn't help but laugh and shake my head as I sliced his chest, broke his rib cage and took out his heart. It pounded under my touch.

The bear rolled over, its fur and features of a stuffed animal returning. My body tingled with life.

I ripped my shirt off. Scars covered my body from the implantation of the willing victims that sacrificed themselves to keep my body fresh.

I now had new blood. Teeth. Blood. Veins. Eyes. And a Heart.

I am alive in more ways than anyone could imagine and I loved it.

Stupid kids would never learn.