Only Judge Can God Me

Editor’s Preface

Greetings readers! We’re excited to bring you the newest edition of Only Judge Can God Me, as it was originally released. Written in the year 2085, this seminal work tells the story of the times before The Great Rejuvenation of 2044 from the perspective of one of history’s forgotten antagonists.

You will surely be familiar with those whose names are ubiquitous across history as the great tyrants – Hitler, Khan, Mao – but lost to history are those who perpetuate fear, fascism and suffering throughout their own communities. The low-level politicians, cops, attorneys, and the like.

On behalf of the Bonasus-Chowdhury family, we are honored that previous editions of this book have been taught in schools around the world. This was, of course, not the author’s intention when writing it. It’s well documented that Bonasus Hungarorum wrote these six tales in two weeks of madness and frustration, having lived through The Great Rejuvenation as a journalist and documentarian, nearly having lost his life a dozen times in the preceding years. He attempted to destroy the device it was written on, but the memory card was recovered and in 2088, the first edition was published. It is said that Bonasus was not happy about this publication and considered legal action against the publishers (ironically, perhaps). Though anti-capitalist, Bonasus was offered a sum of over one-hundred million dollars for the rights, which would be worth almost sixty-thousand notes today!

Knowing the good he could do with that money, he accepted and immediately invested in land for the first Nutopian Euterria Colony, establishing precedence for a way of life we find common now – living at one with nature. Bonasus also established the popular tradition of naming ones-self after an extinct species.

Unfortunately, this story remembers some of the atrocities committed against the land and animals in detail. The author also shares depictions of violence, deception, and malevolence that were also common at that time.

Having spent the money he’d received for the licensing of the book as he’d set out to and having spent over a decade suffering from a brain tumor, Bonasus Hungarorum ended his life on 29 September, 2090 at the age of 72. Coincidentally, the same age that Judge Austin died. Bonasus was always a vocal advocate for the right to die, which was considered a controversial idea in his time.

We often forget the trauma that occurred through the first generation of Nutopians and this story is just as much about Bonasus and his contemporaries as it is about the primary subject.

This edition, like those before it, has been presented in the way the author wrote it, with only minor typographical errors corrected. Since this book is presented in schools, footnotes have been added to briefly explain historical events or colloquial terms. Third-mode students and above will likely be familiar with many of these ideas.

Myotis-Sodalis-Wong

Professor of History

Jonas Salk University

Part One of Five: A Scar is Born

Nobody knows which of the famous Judges his parents named him after, Reinhold, Dredd, or Wapner, perhaps; nor do they know why this name was chosen. At the time, it was an odd and uncommon name. He was born fat and ugly, at over six kilos, but hardly as long as a bowling pin. His appearance was like that of the progeny from an ungodly copulation between a naked mole rat and elephant seal. So, imagine that but in baby form. Try not to imagine, though, the red shock of hair emerging like the eruption of a pudgy volcano from his mother’s torn vagina.

It wasn’t long before that ghastly infant grew into a repugnant toddler. You know how people say all babies are cute, even if they aren’t? Nobody ever bothered to claim this falsity about Judge. Wrinkled and flabby, like an obese old man. He’d never grow out of this particular look.

By the age of two, the closest young Judge Austin had come to being potty-trained was whipping off his diaper and wiping his excrement across the wallpaper and onto the furniture, smearing his malodorous feces between the fibers of the tattered upholstery, already cleaned so many times that it was nearly threadbare, with springs and foam poking through. Judge would smear his wretched shit into those as well. Heaven forbid his parents took him into public, as he’d surely find some unsuspecting stranger to be the recipient of his filth!

Finally, by the time he was six years old, Judge had learned how to use a toilet with relative consistency and his parents could send him to kindergarten. This was a favorable circumstance, because they’d just had twins, a boy and a girl, and needed a break from Judge’s destructive behavior to take care of the new babies.

At school, none of the other kids wanted to be friends with little Judge Austin. For the first week or so, the other children would come up to him and introduce themselves and he would respond by pushing them to the ground and kicking dirt in their face. At least a year older than his classmates, and twice their size, he could easily overpower and abuse them.

He didn’t fare any better with the teachers. When the rest of the class was gathered around on the big, cushy mat to learn about the alphabet or other subjects one would learn at that age, Judge would sit in the corner, attempting to stack wooden alphabet blocks.

“I already know all of this!” he would shout across the room anytime Mrs. Charlotte would offer to include him in the lesson.

He never was able to stack those blocks more than three high.

Since he was already a fair bit older than the rest of his class, and since kindergarten isn’t a place where students are reviewed for their academic performance, young Judge Austin was allowed to progress into the first grade. Indeed, despite his unruly and antisocial behavior, he was allowed to progress all the way to the third grade before his basic comprehension skills were even questioned – on paper, at least. It was later learned that those esteemed and patient pedagogues couldn’t tolerate another year with a student like him and didn’t want to risk their budget, so they passed him anyway.[1]

By the time he’d reached the third grade, Judge had assembled a ‘gang’ of other misbehaved, angry children to assist him in torturing his classmates, as well as those poor kids in the lower grades. He was old enough now to see other children as “different”. He especially liked torturing disabled and autistic kids. They didn’t call it autism back then and instead of embracing others the way they were, most people shunned these children, treating them like they were incapable of living their own life, thinking for themselves, or completing even simple tasks. Infrastructure, employment, just about any part of life was designed to accommodate only those in the majority.

For young readers, this may all sound like a strange idea, given the world you were born into. For those who lived in the time before The Great Rejuvenation, the way we live now would be just as foreign and unimaginable.[2]

Back then, the whole of society was built around what they called “Capitalism”. Basically, this meant that you could do any malicious or despicable thing to another person and as long as it was in the pursuit of money, it was okay. Encouraged, even. It didn’t matter how much money you had, you could keep exploiting people for more. Actually, the more money you had, the easier you could get away with terrible things because everyone else wanted money as well. All a person had to do was pay off a judge or a cop and they would get off the hook. Whoever made the biggest bribe would be the winner.

I know we are telling the story of Judge Brian Austin right now, but I have to continue my digression for a moment, if you will allow me, to talk about how mankind treated the planet back then. I don’t want to give you nightmares, but this “capitalism” would eradicate entire forests to build tire factories. Or dump hundreds-of-millions of tons of plastic and oil into the oceans. Worst of all, they would breed billions of animals and force them to live in cages with not enough room to even turn around while they force-fed them a mixture of processed grain and parts of other sick animals. Their only relief was that their torturous life would only last long enough for them to reach adult-size before they’d be slaughtered via assembly line. It was the same way the fascists tried to wipe out the Nutopians before The Great Rejuvenation. We’ll discuss those atrocities before the end of this tale.

Anyway, Judge Brian Austin was learning that it was easiest to pick on the kids he knew wouldn’t fight back. The autistic children often didn’t even understand why a person would do such malicious things, nor understand why or how to defend themselves. He found a combination of physical abuse and gaslighting was the most entertaining way to torture these individuals. Judge also enjoyed dumping children out of their wheelchairs, down the stairs, laughing maniacally as he watched their crumpled forms tumble over the steps. Bruised, battered and bloody, Judge would leave the poor child on the lower landing while he made his escape. Another easy target were the few blind kids at his school, who he would push into walls or trip in the hallways. Rarely did he get caught or did the victim report his abuse. Though, when they did, he would make up some story about how it was an accident or, worse, how the victim had stolen something from him and he was just trying to get it back. You see, the teachers back then would believe this sort of lie and accept violence as a reasonable response under capitalism. Before people were vetted for careers, many teachers, from elementary to university level, had no business teaching or being around young people. It was common practice until recently for teachers to throw things at children or call them the worst of names for most minor offenses, such as talking in class or forgetting to bring their homework to school. This behavior toward young people was considered inconsequential and generally overlooked when compared to the rampant sexual abuse perpetrated by teachers and those tasked with childcare.

At home, Judge had stopped acting like a terror and had, in fact, become a shining example of a well-behaved little boy. After school, he would help his mother with chores and look after his young brother and sister. Alas, this was all part of Judge Austin’s next devious scheme.

At some point, he had discovered that he could use his parents to protect him from any consequences of his actions. By convincing them that he was an upstanding young man, they would defend him against accusations from his teachers, believing that their little prince would never do something like that. At one point, his teacher even suggested it might be best to hold Judge back a year or put him in the remedial school, as he was unable to do the most basic of math and writing tasks.

Mother Austin met that teacher at his house after school one day and, after a few hours behind closed doors, the teacher had decided to let Judge progress to the fourth grade.

Even better, Judge thought, was being left alone to ‘babysit’ when his mom went to the store or to run some errands. When she was gone, he’d strip his toddler brother and sister and rub his tiny penis all over their naked bodies. He was too young and dim-witted to understand the mechanics of sex, even though his cronies had attempted to explain it to him. The greatest pleasure for young Judge was fingering the anuses of his young siblings, licking his fingers to keep them clean and lubed. Before long, he was able to taste the flavors of baby food they’d been eating. Sweet potatoes and beets were his favorite.

Wanting to remember these assaults led to his next interest – photography. Turns out, the old men with their leather jackets and aviator sunglasses who hung around the picnic tables at the park would pay him ten dollars for a photo of a naked child. More if there were two kids in the picture. Back in those days, they didn’t have digital cameras – photos had to be printed on paper – and many people didn’t even own a camera.

Judge’s birthday was coming up and since he had been acting like such a well-behaved boy lately, his parents had promised him a special present this year. He asked for a camera.

When his birthday came around, he was pleased to receive a Canon SLR and ten rolls of twenty-four exposure film. This will make me almost two-thousand dollars! he thought. The only catch was, he couldn’t take the rolls, with their pictures of nude children in compromising positions, to the local film-processing shop. He’d have to figure out how to print the photos himself.

The science lab at his school had bottles of chemicals in a storage closet in the back. The following weekend, Judge and his stooges broke into the school and loaded as many bottles as they could carry into a rickety shopping cart. Especially any bottles that had labels from Kodak or Agfa.[3] The alarm sounded as soon as Judge kicked the glass window next to the doors, slicing his leg.

When the two flunkeys went back into the school for more bottles, Judge limped hurriedly off down the street with the shopping cart they’d stolen from the nearby supermarket. As the boys came out the door, arms laden with jugs of chemicals, they were dumbfounded to discover their so-called friend had abandoned them. In his place was a dullard of police officers, hiding behind their vehicles while pointing assault rifles at the eight-year-old boys.

I’m sorry, I should explain. Before The Great Rejuvenation, the police and military were used as enforcement for the capitalist agenda. You all know the twelve tenets of Nutopia. Back then, they called that sort of thing a “law” and there were thousands of them. Millions, probably. The fascist oligarchy used these laws to control the behavior of the people and to punish those who were different or didn’t fit in. It was less than two-hundred years before The Great Rejuvenation when most people finally decided that it was wrong to own another person and to force them to work until they died of exhaustion and malnutrition. This was allowed for the sake of profit. Under capitalism, this was called slavery and was integrated into society and the economy as a critical component. I know, I don’t understand how it took them so long to learn how depraved and ignoble this sort of thing is, either. The problem was, the capitalists didn’t actually believe slavery was wrong, but they pretended to while they looked for other ways to control and exploit people. The immediate return to forced labor under The Regime is evidence of this.

It didn’t start all at once. First, they decided to pay employees the most menial of wages, to where they could barely survive. Many of them did survive, though, and had to keep working, doing backbreaking work for over twelve hours per day while their children starved to death or died by any number of maladies. Medicine was heavily rationed and when it was available, the common laborer could not afford to have access to it.

It took a long time, but eventually the workers discovered they could band together and refuse to work unless they received better wages and conditions. The capitalists sent the police and military to murder the workers who refused to comply and return to work. The common tactic used by the government in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries was to discharge firearms haphazardly into a crowd. Since there were many other starving families out there, it was easy to find replacements to replace the workers for next-to-nothing.

There was an outcry amongst the people over workers being slaughtered by the dozens for refusing to work in the absence of a living wage. In order to appease the populace, the politicians made more laws, this time for workers to get a specified minimum amount of pay – which still wasn’t enough to survive on but was a decent compromise between the capitalists and the oligarchs, who were often the same people or from the same families. The worker received little from these negotiations, while the politicians and business owners lived luxuriously.

Unable to work their own people to death, the United States government and their allies began sending their militaries to other parts of the world. Between raping and murdering indigenous people, the soldiers forced them build farms and factories. There, away from these new laws, the corporations could use slavery and exploitation to work generations of other people to death while simultaneously poisoning their water and air, draining their natural resources, and destroying the wildlands.

The military was like a police force these governments would use against other countries and the police was a military force they would use against their own people, understand? Either way, their purpose was clear: use weapons and violence against as many innocent people as possible in order to bleed labor, resources, and quality-of-life until they were completely depleted. The funny thing is, these police and military soldiers, they didn’t get any of these profits or benefits. They were paid just as poorly as the worker. Most people back then, in their willful ignorance, had this belief that they could be the next capitalist oligarch. The government would manipulate them into contracts to kill their own people – or people they’d never even heard of before – by promising a fast-track to power and fortune. They were known for hiring the dumbest of the dumb, as creative thought was considered unpleasant while blind subordination was commendable. For the most part, though, the dimwits signed up because they were angry bullies who wanted to take it out on someone. The primary perk of the job was the ability to rape, steal, and murder legally, which was what most of the soldiers and cops wanted to do in the first place.

How does this relate to slavery, you ask? Well, those same people who owned slaves in the past, or who would have owned slaves, had they the chance, these were the same people who owned factories and prisons and ‘behavioral health’ hospitals.[4] They wouldn’t necessarily be able to work people to death anymore and, in fact, that would be counter-productive. More labor meant more money. Their goal now was to label as many people as criminals and ‘crazy’ people as possible so they could lock them away for the longest possible time. Then, they would charge the government for each person that they kept in their prisons while also forcing those prisoners to work, creating merchandise to be sold by these corporate institutions. This is how they got so many of those ridiculous laws made. For example, when those workers decided to band together for better conditions, they created vagrancy laws so they could send these police to kidnap and hold in their prisons as criminals anybody who was in public and not working or going to and from work. These laws were enforced with particular viciousness toward those with a darker skin-tone.[5] If a person were to argue or resist being kidnapped in any way, they were most often beaten within an inch of their lives, shot in the back, or choked to death. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. The immoral and simple-minded do all the work. Does that make sense? I know it doesn’t make logical sense, but I hope you are beginning to understand how things were when I was young – and I promise, it’ll all come together later in the life of Judge Austin. Remind me to tell you about how the capitalists used their violence to control the way people think. Presently, we should return to the story of Judge Austin. Where were we? Oh yes.

When the police showed up to the Austin home to question Judge about the break-in at the school, he claimed to have been home all day, playing in the yard, as young boys are wont to do. The cut on his leg, he told them, was from climbing a tree. The baby-killers looked in Judge’s room, but found nothing, as he’d already hidden the bottles behind the abandoned gas station down the road.

Those were places where people would buy processed oil to burn in their vehicles…ah, fuck! Let’s just keep going with the story for now.[6]

As if he weren’t blockish enough already, randomly mixing chemicals together in the shed behind his house without any ventilation or protective equipment certainly didn’t help. Judge rather enjoyed inhaling the fumes from the photo chemicals. Several minutes in the shed would leave him dizzy with blurry vision. He’d hold out as long as he could before running outside for air, passing out about half of the time.

After several attempts at putting film in the solutions in different orders, he got an image to appear! It wasn’t anything high-quality, but it didn’t have to be. All that was needed was a product for the old pedos at the park.

Having gotten his old sidekicks arrested and expelled, Judge spent the next year as a loner. The other kids would avoid him, afraid of his violent outbursts. A wrong look or using words over three syllables would be grounds for Judge to sneak up behind them outside the school for a beating. Occasionally, Judge would follow the other children home from school to vandalize their house and steal their pets. By the time he made it to the sixth grade, he’d convinced a couple new dullards to hang around with him and bully the other children.

Sure, beating up disabled kids or exchange students was fun, but it wasn’t satisfying Judge’s urges. It was in this year that he began two new endeavors: raping young girls and torturing animals.

Apologies, this section of the story always makes me furious.

Judge Austin and his shitbag friends would follow an unsuspecting young lady into the restroom at school. One boy would block the door while the other held a knife to the girl’s throat. Meanwhile, Judge would attempt to rape and sodomize her. His perpetual impotence would lead to Judge penetrating the girl with various on-hand objects. Even if he couldn’t find anything suitable to shove into her virginal pussy and asshole, he’d never allow his friends to fuck her. Even at this age, Judge Austin was obsessed with power and sadism. At the very least, he’d give the helpless girl a beating, being sure to pay special attention to her hairless pubic region, often battering it until bruised purple. He’d take photos of her, naked and crying, to share with the old men.

“Tell anyone and we’ll kill you,” Judge would tell his victims with a sadistic grin before spitting in the poor young lady’s face. Leaving her sobbing on the tile floor, Judge and his friends would exit, laughing and congratulating each other on another successful undertaking.

“Boys will be boys,” the teachers said when one girl went to them for help. Judge and his friends raped her again in retaliation. This time, instead of assailing her in the school restroom, the malicious group of boys followed her home and attacked her in her bedroom after school, when her parents weren’t home. Selecting various items from around the girl’s room – a doll, a lava lamp, a microphone – Judge stuffed all of her orifices, from her vagina and anus to her nose and ears. He then proceeded to kick the girl, naked on her pink shag-carpet rug, until each item fell out in turn. Although she survived, the girl never walked or spoke again. She’d wanted to be a singer. Now she had no use for that defiled microphone.

Afraid of getting caught after such a serious assault and worried about the consequences when he finally did kill a person, Judge took to torturing and mutilating animals instead. First, it started with household pets. He gouged the eyes out of the family cat and buried it alive in the forest behind his house. He fucked his sister’s hamster, tearing apart its insides and causing its death. His sister cried for days over that hamster.

When he could find roadkill or a dead dog, he’d sexually assault the carcass before cutting it open and licking his baby gravy from the rotting guts of the poor creature. Sometimes, as a special treat, he’d dine on their intestines or brain. If his parents weren’t home, he’d sneak small animals into the house and put them in the microwave to watch with reprehensible glee as they burst open like a hot dog, leaving behind a steaming pile of dehydrated entrails and matted fur.

This isn’t a joke or some far-fetched yarn. There truly are people so depraved and sadistic in this world. We eliminated a great many during The Rejuvenation, but there will always, always be more. It’s a disease that has plagued our species. What they want most is to pervert our society for their own narcissistic purposes. It can’t be said enough how important it is to the long-term peace and prosperity of Nutopia that we watch vigilantly for these early signs before these reprobates can rise to positions of power again.

How Judge Austin made it to ninth grade, we may never know. Presumably, his mother or father exchanged sexual favors with the teachers for passing grades. Sadly, this was in the days of book burnings. Schools would routinely prohibit books that portrayed people of color, homosexual, trans or otherwise ‘different’ in a positive light or as anything more than an auxiliary character or the antagonist. Self-righteous Christians would proclaim the sinfulness of these people. Not just in these stories, but for existing at all. Writers, actors, and producers were all targets of the fascists for portraying or enabling these characters. Unsurprisingly, the Religious Reich that was at the forefront of banning literature did nothing to stop children like Judge from getting their hands on racist, bigoted, hate-filled slop.

The first week of high school, Judge Austin discovered Mein Kampf, a quasi-biblical sort-of manifesto by Adolf Hitler. His fascist group of Nazis invaded many countries in Europe and constructed a system for the genocide of millions of people because of their ethnicity or sexual orientation. This book became Judge’s companion and guide. Like many of the Neo-Nazis of his time, Judge misconstrued everything he read – not just in this Hitler book, but in every book, film, or social event. Their simple minds could only view the world through a narrow lens where they were unable to take responsibility for their ineptitude and instead chose to make everyone else their scapegoat. Oddly enough, this convinced them of their superiority.

It’s no surprise that a wave of backpack thefts was alleged to have been carried out by Judge. He’d determined himself to purchase a new wardrobe. He’d preferred to have stolen it. Theft from stores was more exciting than taking backpacks and pocket change from the kids at school. Since the clothes he wanted were kept behind the counter at the local surplus store, he had to find another way to get them. Stealing from other children and then selling their property back to them – or to other little scumbags – was the best he could come up with. That was the other thing about stealing from stores – Judge could pick what he wanted instead of having to fence a bunch of stuff he couldn’t use.

In a few weeks, he was finally able to get his hands on the matching black pants and jacket, tan shirt and little silver skull-and-crossbones pin. He wore it every day, never taking it off. Even sleeping in it. The kids at school already called him “Grody,” so it wasn’t a big change as far as they were concerned. The putrid smell of onions and rotting meat emanated from his flabby body. Fetid moisture dripped from his distended chins as he held a classmate down and spit into their mouth.

“Swallow it, Tar Baby,” he’d shout at one child dangling a mucousy loogie over the poor kid’s mouth.

“You like that, you fucking Christ-Killer?” he’d laugh while sitting atop a curly-haired boy. Judge Austin had an affinity for wiping shit from his soiled pants under the nose of his victims. A little “toothbrush” mustache in the fashion of his hero.

At this point, his erratic dress and behavior had even caused him to be exiled from the park where the old pedophiles congregated. They refused to buy any more photographs, saying he was drawing too much attention to them. He was getting used to being excluded from even crass coteries like this. Judge managed to sell the whole shoebox of prints and negatives to a guy from Iowa named John Gacy.[7]

One day, Judge followed Christie, a little blonde girl two years younger than him, into the bathroom. As she finished her business and stood up, Judge smashed the door open, hitting her in the forehead and knocking her unconscious. He then dragged her, bleeding and barely breathing, across the unwashed tile floor, propping her limp body across the janitor’s mop bucket. He attempted to force his tiny cock into her hairless asshole, but was unable to get it up, so he instead used the handle of the mop to violate her rectum. Christie missed the rest of the school year while her colon healed from multiple surgeries.

Boys will be boys.

Even though the adult staff chose to look the other way, as they had done countless times in the past, the young men at Max Hayes High School weren’t such cowards. At lunch, a few days after the assault, a group of boys snuck up behind Judge as he was greedily slurping down a Diet Coke.[8] The largest of the group, a senior called Jan, hit him in the back of the head with a can of Bush’s Baked Beans. Immediately, he was overcome by a dozen arms, holding him down while another dozen legs kicked and stomped their retribution. Judge’s shirt was soaked through brown and red from blood and cola. Unfortunately, the yard supervisors chose this moment to finally do their jobs and broke up the crowd before Judge got what he truly deserved.

Nevertheless, Judge had to spend a couple of weeks in the hospital with a ruptured spleen and broken ribs. The group of boys who stood up for themselves – and on behalf of their classmates – were expelled from the school. A highly unusual practice at the time. Typically, the educational institution of those days would punish the victim of schoolyard bullying, not the assailant. They had plenty of cameras and other technology to monitor the school with but chose to ignore any evidence and make their decisions based on the emotion or politics of the lead adult. News outlets frequently showed footage of teachers bashing children’s heads against concrete walls or adult school employees punching little kids with all of their might, but it didn’t change anything. A moment of media outrage was quickly replaced with fascination over the latest celebrity sex tape or other news about how billionaires were spending their wealth.[9] There were a lot of evil people back then, but there were even more who were just lazy and mindless.

Fortunately for the rest of the students, Judge was soon expelled as well. Stories of his physical and sexual assaults had emerged in the community. A trip to the grocery store brought about stares and whispers. Gossip flooded their neighborhood and city. Judge’s parents opted to move across the country in an attempt to give their son a fresh start.

Packing their possessions and family into a rented truck, the Austin family drove from the state of Ohio to California, on the other side of the continent. They bought a house near the city known as San Diego.[10]

Hoping to give Judge the best chance at turning his life around for the better, his parents signed him up at the best private school in the city. They’d destroyed his Schutzstaffel costume and purchased a new wardrobe of jeans and colorful button-shirts, as was the style in those days. Judge vowed to get back at them for this.

When the first day of tenth grade came around, Judge decided that instead of going to class, he was going to wander the town and see what trouble he could find. Within walking distance were shops, neighborhoods and even a wooded area.

At first, he’d spend his days stealing antifreeze from auto-repair stores, pouring the toxic liquid into discarded liquor bottles. Judge would then make his way to the dry creek-bed under the bridge in the middle of town. He’d force the homeless and drug-addicted veterans who lived in this camp to drink the virulent fluid. At knifepoint, if necessary.[11]

After a murdering a few of those hapless young men, Judge became bored. His brother and sister had been sent to a boarding school, both for their protection and so Mr. and Mrs. Austin could focus their energy on their eldest child. Judge yearned to penetrate the assholes of virginal boys and girls.

Occasionally, a preschool-aged child would be left alone to play in their front yard. Looking around to be sure no adults were watching, Judge would make friendly conversation with the kid before inviting them to check out his bike, which was just out of sight. Leading them around the corner, Judge would wrap one ham-hock arm around their tiny body, using his sausage fingers to cover their mouth while carrying the child off to the nearest concealed or wooded area.

After attempting to rape the youngster, often unsuccessfully, Judge Austin would subject them to other tortures. If he had his backpack, he could pour bleach from the repurposed mustard bottle into their eyes. Or he could jam pencils in their ears, nostrils, and any other orifice, depending on how many pencils he had. When he found the child unexpectedly, he’d have to resort to impromptu torture like jamming twigs under their fingernails and toenails or stuffing his sock in their mouth as a tool for waterboarding – or dry-boarding if there was no water nearby.

Their new neighborhood was only a couple of blocks from a small, forested area. As much as a forest was permitted to exist in a major metropolitan area.[12] A handful of tiny ponds dotted the nature preserve. This is where Judge would dispose of his newest batch of victims. Having satisfied his lust for the day or needing to get home before his parents got off work, Judge would hold the young child’s face in the muddy, algae-rich water at the shore of one of these ponds until they stopped kicking. He’d then throw their lifeless bodies into the pond to be picked apart by birds and fish or drag them into a thick area of brush for the worms and coyotes. This kept Judge entertained for several weeks but the wave of missing children quickly attracted the attention of authorities and neighbors, who began keeping a tight eye on the children. It wasn’t long before search efforts discovered the remains of a couple of the murdered kids, putting an effective end to Judge’s escapades – for now.

This, however, didn’t stop him from kidnapping pets that had escaped their yards – or who were left behind unlocked gates where they could be easily stolen. He entertained himself by burying the animal’s head in a mound of dirt and watching it thrash around and attempt to dig itself free. Inevitably, it would dig a crater into the pile of dirt before exhausting itself and going limp. Judge would laugh like a madman at this event, continuing to laugh as he dissected the former family pet.

A dog with a collar was his favorite find. If it had a leash, even better. Otherwise, he’d tie a rope around the collar and swing the pooch overhead like he was twirling a flail on the battlefield. Or a lasso on the frontier. He’d practice letting the pup go at various points in the rotation, seeing if he could smash it into a tree or large rock. This worked best with little dogs, of course. Shih tzus, chihuahuas, brisinosans. Like the children, it wasn’t long before folks started keeping a close eye on their pets. There were strays down by the bridge, but they put up too much of a fight.

One day, a month or two later, Judge was on the way back home to pick up the mail and erase any telephone messages before his parents got home.[13] The school had been attempting to contact them about Judge’s truancy. He’d tried to forge notes from his parents, excusing his absences, but the administration couldn’t believe any high-school student could be so illiterate, let alone their parents. If he destroyed any evidence of cutting class, he could get away with his depravity for a while longer before being forced to get an education.

On this day, though, he was distracted from his mission by a girl, a few years younger than him, riding down the street on her bicycle. The pleated green skirt flapping against the back of her banana seat incited an urge in Judge that he couldn’t resist. As the girl circled the block for a third time, he hid behind some bushes in a yard, just feet from the sidewalk. As she passed, Judge rammed a stick into the front-wheel spokes of the bicycle, causing the girl to tumble forward and smash her face into the pavement. The wet crack of her skull bouncing off the concrete gave Judge an immediate erection, engorging him to his maximum potential of almost two-and-a-half inches.

Leaping from behind the hedge, Judge Austin dragged the girl into the ant-covered soil. Pressing her face into the wet dirt, he tore her cartoon underwear off and attempted to ram himself into her shapeless ass. To his disappointment, he became impotent again. After a minute or two of attempting to stretch his wet noodle and cram it into the lifeless girl, he gave up and broke another stick from the boxwood, similar to the one that laid broken between the spokes of the girl’s bicycle. With an overhand grip, he stabbed the branch into the young lady’s anus until it broke off. Blood trickled out of her asshole and down the lips of her tiny pussy.

Suddenly, the girl started to struggle. She turned and screamed, waking to see the flabby, sweaty boy looming above her.

“Shhh, shh. Quiet. I’m not going to hurt you,” Judge whispered, holding his hand over her mouth. This was a busy street, just across from an elementary school. He didn’t want to draw any attention this way.

“You fell off your bike and I saved you,” he panted into her ear. Spittle flew from his lips and spattered on her face.

Reaching up to feel the lump on her head, wiping blood and dirt from around her eyes and nose, she believed him.

Picking the girl up from under her armpits and lifting her to her feet, Judge showed her the mangled bicycle. He brushed dirt from her back and legs before picking up the bike and pushing it for the girl as he escorted back to her house.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Judge asked the girl when they got to the door. She had never been asked this question before. Like Judge, she was an outcast at her school. Her short red hair, freckles and microdontia were features the other children liked to tease her about. Though, unlike Judge, she had never used violence in retaliation. Even at this early age, she had been conditioned to believe that she needed to have a boyfriend and, eventually, a husband to be considered valuable to society. This line of thinking had been deeply ingrained into the thinking of little girls for thousands of years, perpetuated by the invention of religion after religion. The men who created these religions claimed that their god or gods wanted women to be subservient to men. In reality, it was women who held power over the human race which, as you know, would come to be recognized during The Great Rejuvenation.

This girl, dressed in her white button-up shirt and plaid skirt, would wait for Judge in front of her middle school each day. He’d meet her and they’d walk to the local McDonalds for cheeseburgers before disappearing behind the dumpster where Judge would lick young Brenda’s pre-pubescent asshole or stick pieces of drinking straws and styrofoam wrappers into her weeping vagina.

“You’re never going to be anything,” he’d tell her as he forced her to eat the crusted shit from under his scrotum.

“Without me, you’re nothing,” he’d say, stuffing his flaccid micropenis into her nostril.

“You should just kill yourself, you stupid bitch,” he’d whisper. “Maybe then I would love you.”

Brenda tried to skip school so she could spend the whole day with Judge, but she wasn’t able to get away with it for more than a few days. Her teacher phoned her father and they decided that it was best to put her in a school for problem children.

“I’m going to kill myself!” Brenda screamed at nobody in particular in the principal’s office, where her dad and teacher sat beside her.

“You should really consider getting your daughter some psychological treatment, Mr. Spencer,” the principal suggested.

“Don’t fucking tell me how to raise my daughter,” he raged back at the elderly pedagogue. Standing to leave, he grabbed Brenda by one skinny bicep, lifting her feet off the ground, and pulled her into the hallway.

“I’ll kill you all!” Brenda screamed, kicking her legs and attempting to thrash her way out of the older man’s grip.

Judge never saw her again, but it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t have the attention span to do any one thing for very long and by the time Brenda was shipped off, he was moving on to his next venture. For all his vileness and stupidity, nobody can say Judge Austin wasn’t ambitious.

Up until now, Judge had been a loner. Not going to school, he’d been unable to meet anyone his own age. Given his track record, he wouldn’t make many friends, anyway. All he needed, he thought, were a couple of guys like him so they could team up on younger kids.

Not long after abandoning Brenda, Judge met The Nazi Lowriders, a youth prison-gang of white supremacists. The Lowriders had recently begun manufacturing methamphetamine and needed some dumb kid to smuggle supplies in from Mexico.

“This is the best day of my life,” Judge thought. The gang gave him his first car and paid him to drive for a few hours each week.

When he wasn’t transporting precursors, he hung around scrapyards and abandoned warehouses with his “brothers’’ while they manufactured the drug. At night, they’d roam the streets of southern California, throwing bricks and bottles from the windows of their car in an attempt to hit any handicapped or non-white person walking down the street.

“Heads up, Kike!” Judge shouted as he tossed his brick at an elderly couple.

They’d set fire to houses in immigrant neighborhoods, laughing at the idea of ruining the dreams of these hardworking families.

“Go back where you came from, you fucking beaners!” They’d shout as they ran away.

By this time, Judge had been expelled from a couple of schools and the district wouldn’t transfer him again. He didn’t care. School is for losers, he thought. I’m going to get rich as a meth dealer, he’d tell himself. At that time, many people did get rich by selling drugs, both legally and illegally, as the markup was significant and the risks were high.

One of the Nazi Lowriders got ahold of a blank diploma from one of his clients, a school counselor. They traded a few grams of the drug for it and had their only literate member forge the names and signatures. “Judge Bryan Austen” the member wrote in big letters across the center of the paper. Somewhat literate would be a better way to describe him.

Judge took the diploma home, lying to his parents when he told them that he’d buckled down and worked especially hard this year and had graduated early! His parents never considered him the brightest crayon in the box. More of a burnt umber. Hoping their years of trying with Judge had paid off, they chose to believe him. It’s hard to say whether or not they were in denial or just wanted the whole experience to be over with. There’s no further record of Judge Austin’s parents. They disappeared that summer and were never heard from again. Maybe they chose to disappear. Maybe somebody made that choice for them.[14]