HERCULES

Atticus Papadakis, a tall distinguished-looking man with a vague resemblance to Caesar Romero, stood with his wife Evangeline "Angel", a beautiful blonde Greek with a perfect 1950s-style hourglass figure. They watched as the four delivery men struggled to get the huge crate in through the front doors of the Attica Hotel on Sebastopol Road in Briarwood, in the Glen Hartwell to Willamby region of the Victorian countryside.

"Be careful with that thing I paid a lot of money for that," said Atticus.

"You paid fifteen hundred dollars," teased Angel.

"That's a lot of money," insisted Atticus. Although he loved Angel, he sometimes despaired of her lack of money sense.

"Not these days."

"Why can't you put this damn thing outside the door?" demanded one of the workmen.

"And have someone steal it?" asked Atticus, shocked.

"It weighs over a tonne," said the workman. Unless it comes to life and walks off, you're not about to lose it.

"Nonetheless, I want it in the reception area, to show that we are proud of our Hellenic origins."

"Hellenic smellenic," said the head workman under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, you're the boss."

They continued to struggle with the huge box, being on a wheelbase didn't seem to help much, until finally getting it into the reception area.

"This do you?" asked the chief workman, Heinrick.

"Of course not, it blocks the entranceway. People can't get in or out of the hotel."

"I thought that was the whole idea?" said Heinrick.

"What was that?"

"I said, you're the boss."

Finally, after more than half an hour of humming and hawing, they found the perfect spot for the statue and began to uncrate it.

Then, they lowered the wheeled trolley as much as possible, before struggling to remove the two hundred and fifty centimetre tall statue of Hercules. Trying not to have it fall over and smash. Or worse fall over and smash one of them.

"Be careful that thing cost a lot of money."

"Yeah we know, $1,500," said Heinrick.

"It adds beautifully to the Grecian decor of the hotel," enthused Angel Papadakis.

"I knew you'd love it."

"He's got a big dick, I'll say that," said Heinrick.

"Do you mind," said Atticus: "There's a lady present."

"Sorry, Angel."

"Although he's right," teased Angel: "He does have a big dick. But then all Greek men do!"

"Angel?" said Atticus, genuinely shocked by his wife's modern ways. If Atticus had his way, we would still be living in the days of the ancient Greek Empire.

"So who is he?" asked Heinrick.

"Hercules," said Atticus, frustrated at their ignorance.

"That's the Greek name for Samson, isn't it?"

"Of course not. Samson is a Christian biblical figure. Hercules was part of the Green Pantheon."

"That's that unfinished building in Greece, isn't it. Like the Roman Colosseum?"

"That's the Parthenon. Pantheon means a collection of Gods, like Ancient Greek, Ancient Roman, or Ancient Egyptian Gods."

"Sounds rather pagan to me," said Heinrick, making Angel giggle and Atticus glare at him.

"It is, I keep telling him that," teased Angel.

"From you, I have to take teasing my love," said Atticus: "From him, I don't."

He signed the delivery papers and stood admiring the statue.

"Ooh, he's got a big dick, hasn't he!" said seventy-something, blue-rinsed Mabel Hollander passing through the reception area, on the way to breakfast.

Looking at his wife, Atticus said: "Stop giggling and go help serve breakfast."

"Yes, my big-dicked love," she said giggling as she ran into the dining area.


Over at Deidre Morton's boarding house in Rochester Road Merridale, they were welcoming home Colin Klein. A redheaded journalist from England, who had been on special assignment in Sydney, reporting on the fraud and corruption charges against former Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese.

"So how'd it go, babe," asked Terri Scott, a beautiful blonde policewoman, the number one cop in the Glen Hartwell to Willamby area, and Colin's girlfriend.

"He got away with it."

"Oh, no," said Natasha Lipzing a tall, lean grey-haired lady. At seventy, the oldest resident at the house.

"Told you, they'd whitewash it," said Tommy Turner, a short fat blonde man. A reformed alcoholic, due to Deidre Morton seizing his stash.

"What went wrong?" asked Freddy Kingston, a tall, heavyset, balding retiree.

"Whenever they asked him any question, he answered 'Duh, I not remember'. And the Labor Party-appointed jury pretended to swallow it.

"They're as corrupt as he is," said Deidre Morton. A short dumpy sixty-plus woman who could hold her own against most Michelin Chefs.

"So does Albanese get back his place as head fascist dictator of Aus?" asked Sheila Bennett. An orange-haired Goth chick, she was the number two cop in the area, Terri's deputy and designated driver.

"Presumably," said Colin: "They didn't appoint a new deputy prime minister, so the current P.M. just needs to step back to deputy fascist dictator. Then Albanese is the head fascist dictator again. impure and simple."

"Gee, politics is rotten, isn't it?' said Sheila.

"You're not wrong," agreed Natasha Lipzing.


It was nearly midnight at the Attica Hotel on Sebastopol Road in Briarwood. Looking around slowly, and carefully, the statue of Hercules stepped down from his stand and walked up the steps to the first storey. Sounding almost like one of Doctor Who's Cybermen as he thump-thump-thumped along. At one stage it almost crashed through the wooden steps.

He walked down the hallway and easily turned the knob of the door, despite it being locked. Crushing the internal mechanisms in the process.

He walked inside and saw two women sleeping together. Natalie 'Nat' and Lizabeth Bascombe were registered as sisters. The two women regarded themselves as married, despite never having had the courage to officially come out. And never getting married despite it being legal for the past few years for gay couples in Australia.

Nat was a pretty ravenette with short hair and green eyes. Lizabeth was a beautiful blonde with long flowing hair, who had taken on Nat's surname as a show of her love.

Looking at the two women, Hercules smashed Nat in the face, shattering her skull and driving it into her brain to kill her instantly. Leaving the light off, so that she couldn't identify him, he tied up and gagged Lizabeth, then spread her legs and began raping her mercilessly with his oversized and now rampant penis.

"Uh-uh!" cried Lizabeth in shock, never having been sexually penetrated before. She woke up bleeding and trying to scream, unable to fight due to her hands being tied behind her back.

Effortlessly Hercules took her until she was bleeding internally and externally and would need thirty stitches just to survive.

Getting off her at last, the statue went back into the hallway and then broke open the next door. He found a married couple sleeping. Both were in their sixties, and neither appealed to him, so he smashed them both in the face, reducing their faces to a pulp and killing them both.

Then out he went into the corridor again, to rip open another door. This time he found a middle-aged woman Sophie Choice sleeping with her son, Brian. The woman was at best mildly attractive, her son-lover was attractive in an effeminate way.

Hercules smashed the mother in the face, killing her. Then he undressed the young man, tied and gagged him, lying him face down on the bed. Before starting to sodomise him ruthlessly, ripping the young man's sphincter to shreds, and making his rectum gush blood. He would die of blood loss before morning.

"Rrrr!" roared the statue, frustrated at its own inability to ejaculate. He kept sodomising the young man long after he had died of blood loss.

In a rage, Hercules went outside and tried a room on the other side of the corridor.

He found two beautiful sisters, in the Victorian countryside enjoying their gap year, before starting university in 2024. Elsie and Edie Lynde.

Unable to choose between the two sisters, he stripped them both, tied them both up, then raped them one after the other. Still growling in rage at his inability to ejaculate.

By six o'clock in the morning, although still unsatisfied, he decided that he had finished for the night.

Going out into the corridor, he went down the steps, careful to avoid the weak spot. He walked across to his small stand and stepped upon it, resuming his lifeless clay form.


At seven o'clock Angel and Atticus Papadakis, came down to start preparing breakfast for their 'guests'.

As they turned on the lights in the reception area, Angel stared in shock at the statue and said: "He's moved slightly."

"Who?" asked Atticus.

"Hercules, he's facing a little to his right now, he was facing straight ahead last night."

"Angel Face how is that possible? He weighs over a tonne."

"Yes, I know, but...?" she stared, still certain that the statue had been facing straight ahead the previous night.

"Anyway we've got to get the breakfasts going to feed the hungry animals," said Atticus.

"What was that?" asked blue-rinsed Mabel Hollander, standing at the top of the first storey stairs.

"I said, we must not let our cherished guests starve," lied Atticus.

"That's not what it sounded like," said Mabel, careful to hold onto the banister as she came down the steps: "Just because I'm old doesn't mean that I'm deaf, you know?"

"My apologies, Mabel," said Atticus, before he and Angel went into the kitchen to help the chef, Cosmo Alexopoulos.

"Cosmo," said Angel, going across to start making porridge for Mabel Hollander and three other guests.

"I still don't see that porridge is very Greek," insisted Cosmo. He thought that they should only serve Greek food.

"We have to give them what the customers want," explained Angel Papadakis.


Over at Deidre Morton's boarding house in Merridale, everyone was sitting down to breakfast, all except Tommy Turner yawning widely.

"I don't know what's wrong with me this morning," said Deidre. She started serving out porridge and treacle, ham and eggs, homemade hash browns, toast and marmalade, and crumpets with margarine and vegemite.

"Yum, yum," said Sheila Bennett, helping herself to a vegemite crumpet.

"What you lot need is a generous tot of whisky to waken you all up," said Tommy.

"Oh, yuk," said Terri: "That's all I need in the morning."

"Alcohol puts me to sleep," said Natasha, covering her mouth as she yawned.

"Well, don't forget my tot," he reminded Deidre: "It's one thing to confiscate my stash, but we had an agreement that I could have a glass with each of my meals."

"What kind of glass do you want?" she asked going to unlock the alcohol cabinet.

"Just pour it on my porridge and treacle," said Tommy.

The others all stared at him in horror. Even Sheila, who had a more than healthy appetite stopped chewing her crumpet to stare at him in horror.

"What?" he asked: "Porridge, treacle, and whisky, it's the perfect breakfast."

"On second thought I had a couple of Scotch finger biscuits before going to bed last night," said Terri: "I think I'll forgo breakfast this morning."

"There will be no forgoing of breakfast," ordered Deidre as though talking to young children: "No matter how disgusting Tommy's eating habits may be."


When breakfast had been passed out to everyone who had come down at the Attica Hotel, Angel Papadakis and Jenny Galanis, a serving maid went upstairs to check on the missing guests. All of them from the first storey.

"Natalie, Lizabeth," cried Jenny walking in through the open door.

She started screaming as soon as she saw the state of the two 'sisters'.

Across the hallway, Angel Papadakis started screaming also as she found Sophie Choice with her face reduced to pulp, and her son Brian sodomised to death.


"What the Hell?" asked Atticus downstairs. He and Cosmo stopped doing the dishes and raced upstairs to check on the two screaming women.

"Angel...?" said Atticus, stopping as he saw Sophie and Brian Choice. He grabbed Angel and turned her around so that she was looking out into the corridor.


Across the corridor, Cosmo was comforting Jenny, his fiancé.

"Who could have done this?" she asked.

"I don't know, honey," he said, squeezing her tight.


Over at Deidre Morton's, they were eating as little as Mrs. M. would let them get away with, trying not to look at Tommy Turner as he ate his Porridge, treacle, and whisky.

Hearing a knock on the front door, Terri, Sheila, and Colin all said: "I'll get it." Then they raced each other to the door.


Outside they found Stanlee Dempsey, Jessie Baker, and Donald Esk waiting for them. All three sergeants of local police stations. Stanlee was a tall, muscular raven-haired man. Jessie was a huge bear of a man, with rusty red hair. Donald Esk had medium brown hair, which he had worn in a Beatles mop-top cut, until he got himself a girlfriend, Lisa, recently and decided to let it grow out.

"You're letting your do grow out?" said Colin.

"Yes, I've got a beautiful girlfriend who thought it looked silly. And my devotion to the Beatles isn't as great as my devotion to having a beautiful girlfriend," said Don Esk.

"He's not as silly as he looks," said Sheila.

"Well, he couldn't be, could he," said Jessie Baker, getting an elbow in the ribs for his trouble.

"So what's the problem?" asked Colin Klein.

"We've had a series of weird, and inexplicable murders at the Attica Hotel in Briarwood," said Stanlee.

"Why can't we have plain old murders, where someone has gone berserk with a knife or a gun, in this area?" asked Terri.

"Don't blame it on me," said Colin, who had been accused from time to time of being a monster magnet: "I was up in Sydney during your last few weird, and inexplicable cases."

"Actually, we managed to explic them all," said Sheila.


Over at the Attica Hotel in Briarwood, they found the place swarming with ambulances, picking up patients, taking them to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital in Baltimore Drive G.H., before returning for more patients or corpses.

Inside, on the first storey, they found Jesus Costello, Elvis Green, and Tilly Lombstrom examining the dead. Jesus, pronounced 'Hee-Zeus' was the chief surgeon and chief administrator of the Glen Hartwell Hospital. Elvis, nicknamed due to his devotion to the dead king of rock and roll, was the local coroner. Tilly Lombstrom, a tall attractive fifty-something brunette, was Jesus's second in charge at the GH&DCH.

"Lord, Pelvie, Tils," said Sheila by way of greeting.

Jesus glared at her, Tilly smiled and Elvis said:

"Hey, baby," in his worst-ever Elvis Presley impression.

"So what's going down?" asked Colin Klein.

"Someone broke in last night, raped three women and a teenage man, and killed numerous others," said Jesus, leading them across to the door.

"He be much man," said Sheila.

"Superman more like it," said Jesus, showing them the crushed lock on the door: "He just twisted the door handle so hard that he shattered the inner mechanisms and opened the doors."

"Could he have used some kind of tool to do that?" asked Terri.

"Possibly," said Elvis" "But there's no sign of scratching on the handles to indicate anything except bare hands used.

"On the other hand we haven't found a single fingerprint, other than of the victims, anywhere," said Paul Bell, a tall thin wiry dark-haired cop.

They were discussing it as they walked down the stairs to the reception area.

Despite being wheeled out on a stretcher, Angel Papadakis pointed at the statue of Hercules: "It was him, I tell you."

"Angel?" said Atticus following her outside.

"He came to life and killed them, I tell you," she shouted: "He was on the wrong angle on the podium this morning."

"Angel," pleaded Atticus: "You're imagining things. You've had a terrible experience."

"No, she's right," insisted blue-rinsed Mabel Hollander coming out of the lounge room: "He had shit and blood on his dick this morning. Without thinking, I washed it off."

As they looked around at one another, Terri said: "Well, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing that ever happened in this area."

Tilly took an alcohol swab of clay Hercules's penis and they all headed off to the Glen Hartwell Hospital.


Jessie Baker, Stanlee Dempsey, and Paul Bell hunted around the outside of the Attica Hotel, and into the forest surrounding it. While Terri and the others followed Jesus, Elvis, and Tilly to the hospital to watch as they performed autopsies. The three women who had survived the rapes were under sedation, so could not tell them anything.


"What's the verdict Docs?" asked Sheila a few hours later.

"No sign of semen in any of the corpses," said Jesus.

"Although we have found this stuff," said Tilly, showing them a sample of brown matter, which clearly was not fæces.

"What is it?" asked Colin.

"Some kind of clay," said Elvis Green.

"What about the sample from the dick of the statue?" asked Terri Scott.

"A mixture of fæces and blood," said Tilly.

"So, you're saying that the statue of Hercules did rape and murder these people?" asked Sheila.

"Weeeell, don't quote me on it," said Tilly: "But as whacky as it sounds."

"So how do you arrest a statue?" asked the redheaded reporter, Colin Klein.

"Smash it to pieces with a Spaulding Hammer," suggested Sheila.

"Sounds good to me," said Terri Scott. Going out to her new police-blue Lexus, they drove around to the Department of Building and Works depot in Riordan Street, Harpertown.


Borrowing a couple of Spaulding Hammers which were so heavy that only Colin and Sheila could swing them, they headed back toward the Attica Hotel in Briarwood.

"Told you, you need to build up those scrawny muscles, chief," teased Sheila.

"All right, Sheils, I'll start going to the gym with you on Saturday mornings," promised Terri: "To Colin, she said: "Don't worry we can have a picnic lunch to eat in the forest after gym work.


When they went into the reception area at the Attica Hotel, they found that the statue was missing. Although the pedestal it had stood on was still there.

"Where the Hell's Hercules?" demanded Terri Scott.

"I don't know," said Atticus, troubled: "He was gone when I returned from seeing Angel to the hospital.

"He ran off into the forest soon after you lot left," said Mabel Hollander. Pointing at the now useless Spaulding Hammers: "He must've somehow known what you were planning for him."

"Damn," said Colin Klein.


Going back outside they found deep footprints running off into the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest.

"I think we need to bring in Bulam Bulam to help follow them," said Terri, referring to a grey-haired Elder of the Gooladoo tribe, outside the township of Harpertown.

"Yeah, it'll be nice to see the old codger again," said Colin Klein.

"Don't call him that," warned Terri: "He's very sensitive about it. He says that with sixty being the new forty, at sixty-five, he is really only forty-five."

"Well, that makes as much sense as a statue of Hercules running loose killing and raping people," conceded Colin.


At Harpertown they walked into the Grocery Shop on Chappell Street, where a tall grey-haired native Australian was serving an Elderly lady.

"Well, if it's not the return of the prodigal journalist," said Bulam Bulam, seeing Colin Klein.

"Technically prodigal means a wastrel," corrected Colin.

"I know that," teased the Elder, making them all laugh.

"I've just come back from Sydney, and already people are teasing me," joked Colin.

"Well, you don't make any friends in Victoria by going to Sydney," teased Sheila.


At the Attica Hotel, they started into the forest on foot, following the statue's footsteps. At first, even the three whites could follow the prints through the thick coating of pine needles and gum leaves on the first floor. But after ten kilometres or so, the ground started to become harder, the trees further apart, and the pine needles and gum leaves more sparse. Until, without Bulam Bulam they would have had to turn back.

They followed the footprints for nearly twenty kilometres altogether before even Bulam Bulam could no longer see them.

"Well they seem to be heading well into the outback," said Bulam Bulam: "With any luck, it's heading interstate."

"How is that luck?" asked Sheila.

"As long as it's not killing Victorians, why the Hell should we care who it kills?" asked the native Elder.

"The only reason I don't arrest you for that is because I know that you're joking," teased Terri Scott: "Let's sit down for a while, before heading back," she said panting.

"We can always take turns carrying you, chief, if your scrawny muscles aren't up to it," teased Sheila.

"My scrawny muscles are just fine," said Terri rubbing at her calves with her hands.


When they finally returned to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital, they were told that the three raped women had come around and could be interviewed for a short time.

"A few minutes only," said Jesus emphatically.

The three women were still too distressed to tell them much, except that the penis raping them had been enormous, and icy cold.

"Such as...?" began Lizabeth Bascombe.

"The penis of a statue?" suggested Terri.

"Yes, just like that," she agreed.

"He seemed quite angry, growling," said Edie Lynde.

"Growling at you?" asked Colin Klein.

"No," said Elsie Lynde: "I think he was growling at himself because he couldn't cum."

"Time to leave," said Topaz Moseley, a gorgeous platinum-blonde nurse as she and Jesus Costello came into the room.

"Thanks, Jesus, Tops," said Terri.

"Tops?" asked Topaz.

"Yeah that's your new nickname, now that you're in Glen Hartwell," explained Sheila.

"Well, I suppose Tops is better than Bottoms," said the gorgeous blonde.

"By the way," said Sheila to Colin: "We've nicknamed Terri Tare."

Colin snickered, until Sheila added: "And you're Col."

"Not snickering now, are you, Col?" teased Terri

"No, Tare," he said, teasing her right back.


Around 10:00 PM that night, a local tribe of Aborigines was having a corroboree, not far outside Willamby.

Watching from behind the gum trees around the corroboree circle, Hercules was entranced by the huge, sagging breasts of some of the middle-aged and elderly lubra.

Suddenly growling, he raced into the clearing, killing the leader of the corroboree plus three elderly bucks. Four young bucks raced across to grab their spears and hurled them from point-blank range at the living statue. Only to see them shatter upon impact with Hercules's baked clay body!

Grabbing three of the hugest-breasted lubras, the statues started running through the forest, faster than even the younger bucks could keep up with.

When he was thirty kilometres away from the nearest hunter, he staked out the three women out on their backs on the ground, spread-eagled and naked and then ravaged them one at a time for most of the night. Almost ripping their soft, opulent breasts off their chests in his desire to procreate.

One of the lubras, over seventy years of age, died from the great size of his clay penis ripping her apart.

The other two fainted, but were still alive when their tribe found them the next morning.


Terri, Sheila, and Colin Klein were at the Glen Hartwell Hospital early the next morning, when the Aboriginals arrived carrying the three women into the hospital. Jesus had the dead woman taken down to the morgue and assigned Topaz Moseley and Annie Colfax, the Nurse-in-Charge, to wheel the two surviving lubras into the operating theatre, so that he and Tilly Lombstrom could stitch them up immediately.


"What's the news?" asked Terri, when the two surgeons exited the theatre.

"They'll both survive, thankfully," said Jesus.

"But they won't feel like having sex any time soon," said Tilly.

"What are our chances of interviewing them?" asked Sheila.

"Today nil," said Jesus.

"They did say that they were attacked and molested by a huge clay statue," said Topaz Moseley.

"It also killed a number of the bucks in the tribe," added Annie.

"Well, so much for it moving interstate," said Terri, as they started toward the elevators.


Although they were both only seventeen, Johnny Liversitch and Myra Beckinsale had been dating for five years. As they sat down on a St. Kilda red-white-and-black AFL football blanket, to eat a picnic lunch, he hoped that he could convince her to go all the way this time. But still she refused.

"Why not, babe?" he asked frustrated.

"Because I'm saving myself for marriage," she insisted.

"I didn't think girls did that anymore?" he complained.

"The good ones do," she said.

"But how can I know if you're any good until I've tried you?" he protested.

"Very funny, ha..." she stopped, staring in horror as the living statue came out of the forest behind Jonny.

"What is it, babe?" he said, turning around. His last words as Hercules smashed him in his face, hard enough to burst his head open like a squashed watermelon.

Myra screamed then fainted.


When she came to, she was staked out naked, spread-eagled in the Australian desert, with the clay-brown statue thrusting in and out of her recently virginal vagina, having almost counter-bored it as it shattered her hymen to fuck her.

God, please let me die! she thought, unable to believe what was happening to her. Wishing now that she had allowed Jonny to take her virginity. So that the mammoth clay penis would not be tearing her apart so much.

For three hours, Hercules worked over her, growing increasingly frustrated that he could not ejaculate into her.

Finally, in anger, the statue rose and ran back toward the cities. Leaving Myra spread-eagled, staked out in the desert. Not caring whether she died or not!


Myra Beckinsale and Jonny Liversitch were reported missing just as Terri and the others at Deidre Morton's boarding house were sitting down to tea at 6:30 that evening.

With at least three more hours of sunshine left, Bulam Bulam squatted on the bonnet of the lead vehicle, a Range Rover driven by Sheila Bennett, due to Terri's Lexus not being designed for deep forest driving.

They set out and soon tracked down the corpse of Jonny Liversitch.

Paul Bell took Jonny's body in the back of his police Land Rover to the Glen Hartwell Hospital, while the others continued through the forest.

Hercules's footsteps were easy enough to follow and they had attached spotlights to the roofs of the vehicles, in case they did not find Myra by Darkfall.

"Everything still all right?" Terri asked Bulam Bulam.

"Why wouldn't it be?" he asked.

It would be nearly midnight by the time that they found Myra spread-eagled naked to the sandy desert just past the forestland. She was frozen by the night cold, unconscious, but still alive.

Terri raced forward to cover her with a blanket. Then Stanlee Dempsey, Donald Esk, Jessie Baker, and Colin Klein all raced forward to pull out the stakes that she was tied to so that they could put her into the rear of the Rover, with Terri in there to take care of her as much as possible.

"All right, let's get her to GH&DCH," ordered Terri.

With Bulam Bulam climbing into the cabin of the Rover, they were able to drive back much faster than they had arrived.


It was nearly 1:30 by the time that they arrived at the Glen Hartwell Hospital. Having been rung at their home numbers Jesus Costello, and Tilly Lombstrom were waiting for them to put Myra into a warm bath to raise her body temperature before they even connected her to a fluid drip to help rehydrate her.

Once her body temperature had been raised, they performed surgery on her vagina, to repair the damage done by Hercules's oversized manhood.

"Will she be all right?" asked Sheila.

"She'll live," said Jesus: "But will be in hospital for up to six weeks.

"She may never get over her fear of intimate relationships with males," said Tilly: "That is a common side-effect of rape."

"Let alone being raped by a monster, then being left in the desert to die," added Jesus.


Not knowing how else to get satisfaction, around midnight the living statue had returned to the Attica Hotel in Sebastopol Street Briarwood.

After checking all around the hotel, to make certain that no police were hiding there, he pulled open the locked door and tentatively stepped inside.

After reaching the stairs, he decided to risk taking the elevator to the second story this time. However, his cold fingers could not press in the heat-activated buttons, so that he had no choice but to climb two flights of stairs.


On the second floor, he opened the door to Cosmo Alexopolous's room. From the doorway, he could see there was only a single male there and decided not to risk going inside.

The next room had an elderly woman, clearly in her seventies. Therefore she was useless for procreation. So again he backed out without harming her. Third time lucky, he found beautiful seventeen-year-old Jenny Galanis sleeping alone.

"He ripped her clothes off and started to tie her up, when the teen, always a light sleeper suddenly awakened.

"Wha...?" she said, and then he stuffed her nightie into her mouth, almost choking her.

No time to finish tying her, he held her hands above her head as he savagely raped her for three hours straight. Before finally tying her hands to the bedrail, and then going out in the corridor.

"Hey, who you?" asked a more than slightly under-the-weather guest, Gino Tomali, coming out into the corridor.

No time for subterfuge, the statue grabbed him by the neck and twisted his head around backward. Like Meryl Streep in 'Death Becomes Her'. Except that the drunkard did not stay on his feet afterward.

Not wanting to risk returning him to his own room, in case the drunkard's wife was awake, the statue returned to Jenny Galanis's room, and placed the body upon the single bed, beside a terrified Jenny.

"Hu hu!" said the statue, as close as it could come to laughter.

He went back into the corridor and came face-to-face with the sot's wife, Bettina Tomali. Who despite being close to fifty, was an attractive blonde.

"What...?" she said, before fainting as she saw Hercules.

He carried her back into her bedroom. Stripped her and tied her to the bed, with her panties in her mouth. Then he spent the rest of the night violating her. Almost ripping her firm, opulent breasts away from her chest in his excitement.

Yet again, he could not ejaculate and growled in anger. Until he saw the hint of sunlight under the bedroom curtains.

Realising that he had stayed too long, he raced out into the corridor and ran down the steps. Forgetting about the weak step, which he fell right through. Landing with a crash on the ground floor.

However, he was undamaged, and as the Papadakises came to see what the noise was, he raced out into the reception area, then charged outside to head toward the forest again.

"He went that way," said blue-rinsed Mabel Hollander, who had come downstairs early to wait for breakfast. Which was never served before 7:00 AM.

"Who did?" asked Atticus Papadakis.

"The bloody statue, of course," said the old lady: "Who do you think I was talking about? Anthony Shit-for-Brains Albanese?"


Half an hour later, downstairs the surviving residents of the Attica Hotel were having breakfast. Upstairs Jesus Costello, Elvis Green, and Tilly Lombstrom were examining the corpses, and trying to treat the rape victims assisted by Topaz Moseley and Annie Colfax, the Nurse-in-Charge.

Derek Armstrong and Cheryl Pritchard waited to take Jenny Galanis to the hospital. Behind them, four other paramedics waited to take the Body of the drunkard, Gino Tomali, and his wife, Bettina, to the hospital also.

Standing aside at last, Jesus said: "All tight, you can take her."

Derek and Cheryl came forward with a wheeled stretcher for Jenny.

"This one too," said Tilly Lombstrom.

They took Jenny downstairs - with them having to squeeze the stretcher into the small elevator, due to the statue having fallen through the weakened staircase earlier. Jesus followed along with them.

Then the next ambulance crew moved forward to take Bettina Tomali away. With Tilly following along.

Finally, Elvis Green stood up and said: "Take him too."

The final crew took away Gino's corpse. With Elvis following them out to the ambulance.

"Should we follow them?" asked Colin Klein.

"No, I've got an idea," said Terri. Then to Bulam Bulam: "The tribe he attacked, tried spearing him, didn't they?"

"Yes, to no effect, the spears broke on impact."

"Do tribal people still use bows and arrows?"

"Not for centuries. The woomera and spear have such flight distance, that bows and arrows became redundant."

"I can shoot a professional bow," said Sheila. "I almost qualified for the Aussie Olympic Team when I was twenty."

"Almost?" teased Colin Klein."

"Yes, they were afraid that I would show up the men ... they're afraid of strong women."

"The women and men don't compete against each other, Sheils," said Terri.

"Well, in a truly equal society, they would."

"Then, I suppose they should have mixed toilets now?"

"Hey, I'm happy to have mixed showers," teased Colin.

Bulam Bulam and the other men muttered their agreement.

"Yes, I bet you all would," said Terri. Then to Sheila: "Tell me that you are really a championship-level bow-and-arrower?"

"The term is archer, and yes," said Sheila.

"Then I have a brilliant idea, as long as we can get a bow and arrow, a helicopter, and some sticks on TNT."

"Well, Louie Pascall in Lenoak owns a helicopter, he uses it to round up his cattle," said Stanlee Dempsey: "But I doubt if he'll lend it to you if you're planning on blowing it up."

"Do I really look that stupid?" asked Terri, adding: "Remembering before you answer, that I am the top cop in the area and could have you fired."

"No, chief, you look like a genius."

"Crawler," said Sheila. Then to Terri: "Remembering that I am the only expert bow-and-arrower in the area."

"Archer, I thought you said?"

"I decided I like your term better."


An hour or so later, Louie Pascall was flying the chopper with Sheila and her bow and arrows, with TNT sticks tied to them in the front passenger seat. Colin Klein, Terri Scott, and Bulam Bulam had squeezed into the back seat.

"You can sit on my lap, babe, if you like," said Colin to Terri.

"No thanks man, I prefer to stay just good friends," said Bulam Bulam.

"Burn!" said Sheila.


They went out for five days, during which time another seven rapes and five murders occurred. Still, they had not seen hide nor hair of the living statue.

Suddenly Sheila pointed at a gum grove and said: "Head down there, Louie."

"Can you see him Sheils?" asked Terri, who now was sitting on Colin's lap.

"No, it's a couple making out," said the orange-haired Goth chick. Putting down her bow and arrows she picked up her mobile phone to start filming.

"Sheils, you pervo!" said Terri.

"Wait a minute, that could be him," said Sheila, picking up her bow and arrows again. Making certain that her safety harness was attached, then opened her side door as they swooped down lower as Hercules came out of the gum forest snarling at the young couple.

Ignoring them Sheila aimed her first arrow, saying: "Light it."

Bulam Bulam leant over the front seat to light the ten-second fuse of the TNT.

Sheila fired the arrow which went straight at the living statue. He grabbed the arrow in mid-flight and held it up in triumph.

Then the TNT exploded blowing to pieces his left hand, and arm to the shoulder.

"Good shot, Sheils," said Terri.

Sheila aimed again, as Hercules turned to run, saying: "Light it."

Bulam Bulam lit the fuse and Sheila aimed lower.

This time the TNT shattered both of the statue's feet and legs to the crotch.

Falling over, helpless, Hercules could only wait as Sheila fired three more arrows, blowing him to pieces.

Finally, the helicopter landed.

Getting out, Sheila said: "Isn't anyone gonna congratulate me on my fine aim."

"Nice shootin', Tex," said Terri, Colin, and Bulam Bulam together. Using Sheila's own favourite saying back at her.

Racing across to the shattered statue, Sheila rooted around, until lifting up his genitalia, still in one piece.

"Look what I got," said Sheila.

"That goes into the evidence locker," insisted Terri.

"Aw, I wanted to keep it as a souvenir."

"And she wonders why she can't get a boyfriend?"

"It's because modern men are afraid of strong women," said Sheila.

"Well, we certainly are," said Colin Klein, Bulam Bulam and Louie Pascall.

"Told you," said Sheila, making them all laugh.

THE END
© Copyright 2023 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia