“THE EXORCISM OF MICHAEL BLACKBURN”

“THE EXORCISM OF MICHAEL BLACKBURN”

The feeling that ran through my body as I read the invitation I had received was that of excitement and anxiousness. It was a formal birthday party invitation from my good friend Ben. Back twenty five years ago receiving a hand delivered card with details of a birthday celebration was the equivalent of being invited to the Rothschild's Surrealist Ball, you were in, and you were elite. You knew you could live free from the shackles that our parents placed on us even if it was for only an afternoon. But this party would be different, this party was a sleepover.

For the remaining days leading up to the party my head was filled with thoughts of what childhood memories could be made that weekend. Ben’s birthday is in August so of course us boys (no fucking girls allowed) would be like feral creatures slithering through the woods, riding bicycles without helmets, wrestle, jump, play, swim through waves that crash to shore, and getting high on too many sugary beverages. My undeveloped mind wondering what type of cake he would have? Standard or ice cream cake? What would we eat? hotdogs, hamburgers, both? and would we get a fucking loot bag? Of course I would do my due diligence to think of something cool I would have to buy him for his birthday, which meant pacing up and down a single toy isle of a Zellers department store, failing that throwing twenty bucks into a card and moving on. However what I was really thinking about was a chance to be bad!

BAD

1. of poor quality or a low standard.

synonyms: substandard, poor, inferior, second-rate, second-class, unsatisfactory, inadequate, unacceptable, not up to scratch, not up to par, deficient, imperfect, defective, faulty, shoddy, amateurish, careless, negligent, miserable, sorry

2.not such as to be hoped for or desired

synonyms: unpleasant, disagreeable, unwelcome

When I say bad I mean when your parents aren't looking your going to play with matches and gasoline, throw something at a passing car, alcohol, tobacco, firearms, or trespass. Growing up in a small town these are your past times as a young boy. Being bad was something we got good at and in my belief it’s a life skill. Rarely if ever did we get caught doing some dumb shit. I’m not going to say I was the instigator of our group but every group has some key players who really know how to steer the crowd in a disastrous direction. Perhaps we all took turns being the instigator.

The guests were all arriving around the same time to the birthday party. In attendance was Ryan he was the tallest, Craig he was the redhead, Mark and Matthew they were the rough housers, Chris a goofy stuttering son of a bitch, Ben was the funny one, Jamie was the shy quiet one (a ticking time bomb), and Michael Blackburn he was a nice kid but kind of a dork and was always our punching bag at every get together in which he was always invited and would always attend.

The festivities went as typical birthdays do, we were all fucked up on sugar, being loud and rude just barely keeping it within tolerance of Ben’s parents. The day had moved into night and we were setting up our sleeping bags in the basement. The basement was unfinished but to one end there was carpet, some old furniture, television, and Nintendo, this is where we set up camp. We were horsing around while the parents slept peacefully in their bed. At some point during the horse play the game became “everybody against Mike” and we were all chasing him and wrestling him until the point you could see he had physically and mentally had enough. Me being the oldest sibling in my family I knew all the tricks of the trade when it came to abusing trust. We would let him have some free time to catch his breath and we would all act cool to build up his trust at which point we would just get him again.

We indicated to Michael that we were through with putting a run on him and he should relax and in a show of good faith we would play the game “light as a feather stiff as a board” and we would lift him up into eternity. Light as a feather stiff as a board was some stupid party game or trick in which a group of individuals would surround a single person who is laying flat on their back and lift them off the ground while chanting “light as a feather stiff as a board”. The person for some reason actually felt light and everyone gets a kick out of it. Michael lays complacently on the carpeted floor, we surround him. We carry on with the ritualistic charade chanting in unison “light as a feather stiff as a board, light as a feather stiff as a board”. Micheal is hoisted from the ground effortlessly and a look of childlike pleasure envelops his face at which point someone calmly says “GET EM!”

Poor Michael was now surrounded with young boys who learned how to exploit someones good nature and manipulate them into feeling safe, we were drunk with power and were willing to see just how powerful we had become. It was a profound shift in all of our lives and I believe it has shaped me into the outstanding well adjusted member of society I am today. It was a relentless barrage of childish torture which ranged from twisting his arms behind his back, pulling his hair, and farting in his face. To the assailants it was a blur of organized chaotic dominance and things just organically progressed from there. “Tie his ass up!” one of the boys yelled. Voices were heard and instructions were understood and carried out but who the commands came from are a little unclear. As half the group kept Micheal held down the others scrambled to find binding supplies. The others returned with belts, ropes, and duct tape, Micheal was successfully hog tied. He was displayed before us in the typical discomforts of the hog tie formation, belly on the ground, hands and feet bound together behind his back, and his face being forced into the soiled carpet. We all stood there looking down upon our masterpiece of teamwork, grinning. We left him in this position for several minutes as we talked amongst ourselves and conjured up where the rest of the evening would be headed. It was a unanimous decision that we shouldn't spoil our hard work and just untie Micheal, we should take it one step further.

Chris had his family video camera and adding insult to injury began filming the ordeal, the victim surrounded by his captures displaying there newly acquired alpha male demeanour. Ben took the initiative to rummage through old boxes his family had in storage and returned to us with old halloween masks and costumes, “better hide our faces” he said. We dawned our new faces, there was the skeleton, an old man, the devil, a gorilla, a ninja turtle, a witch, and Santa.

“TIE HIM TO THE POLE!” was yelled from one of the boys. The victim was now freed from the hog tie only to be retied to a floor support jack post. He was knelt down facing the post his ankles were wound with duct tape, his shirt removed, and blind folded. His arms were outstretched around the post and fastened in place with tape and rope, it looked like some sort of half prayer half sacrificial pose. Most importantly he was immobile, blind, and completely helpless. We danced circling around him like predator sharks, taunting him, belittling him, and beating him all while the film kept rolling. The torture was relentless, it was cruel, and it was most unusual. Continually circling the victim each boy took there turn assaulting Micheal, the more unusual and disgusting the punishment, the funnier it was. Slapping him on the back and face as hard as we could, putting tape in this hair, hitting him with a pillow, and farting directly into his face bare assed. Micheal I will say was taking this punishment like a champ and was only letting out the faintest whimper of distress because he knew crying or screaming for help would only further outcast him and he would never be invited to another birthday party again.

The abuse became more sadistic when our belts were used as whips. It was like a reenactment of Christ being chastised and Michael was to be our martyr and resolve us of our sins. Absolution would be obtained. We whipped his bare back with full force, Michaels clenched teeth and moans would go unnoticed as we cackled. No one was innocent of the torture brought upon this boy, we all took part and we all took pleasure. “Beat his ass!” Nothing would demean him more than to be whipped with a leather belt solely on his ass, not a drunken step father alive could match us in unbridled fury. “His bare ass!” “pull down his shorts.” Orders were carried out and his shorts were drawn down, we now had his little white ass prominently exposed for us to administer the most devilish whippings our little ropey arms could muster. One by one we remorselessly whipped and beat Micheal Blackburn’s bare skin with such precision and pleasure, his skin becoming red, swollen, and lined with welts. Each crack of the little leather belts bringing misery to the victim while every time the belt was raised by an executioners hand brought excitement. “GUYS STOP!” he screamed quivering but we didn’t stop we continued harder and faster, the situation growing funnier and more evil by the second until we heard the door crack open from the top of the stairs. Everyone paused immediately, a hand was held over Mike’s mouth, and silence was held as Ben’s mother questioned “what’s going on down there?” Quickly Ben and Jamie removed their shrouds and darted to the bottom of the stairs and as quickly as they turned into pain inflicting little monsters they transformed back into just rowdy little boys. “It’s getting a little bit loud and we can hear you on the second floor” she said. Staring up innocently from the basement we smiled and apologized for the disruption and promised to keep it down. She accepted our lousy apology and asked us to go to sleep, after all it was the middle of the night. We had been torturing our classmate, our so called friend for hours and capturing it on film, my how time flies when you’re having fun.

We didn’t mind beating a fellow peer but we did mind waking and angering a parent and with his mothers suggestion of rest we decided Michael had endured enough. We removed our masks and cut Mike free, He collapsed into a fetal like pose and would cower anytime one of us even came near him. Not an apology was made, not a “hey man we were just messing around”, not a “we’re still friends, right?”, not a word was said by anybody. We simply found our sleeping bags within our makeshift berric, got comfortable and went to sleep.

The next morning we arose and headed upstairs to the welcoming smell of freshly cooked bacon and pancakes. We gathered around the large family dining area and enjoyed a well cooked meal, not one of us mentioning what had unfolded just hours ago. We all just acted like nothing happened, like we were all good pals, Michael didn’t rat us out or break down in tears, he just sat there and enjoyed his breakfast and God knows he fucking earned it!

We have all since grown up and are in our thirties now. Ben and I are still good friends and will occasionally talk about what happened that night, it’s still funny to us. The video footage had never been watched at least to my knowledge because if it had I’m sure we all would have been institutionalized. As for Michael Blackburn, I’m sure he must have killed himself by now.