Killer on the rampage
OK, where was I? Oh, yes, so I killed my first man back in 1977. I was 8. I was cleaning my gun (it was a .22), drinking Mountain Dew, and listening to Kiss... Dude came up, was wearing a cowboy hat with one of those feather roach clips hanging off of it... He smelled funny.
He stood there watching me for a while, eating all my green M&M's (I kept them apart from the other colors, was saving them to give to the girl down the street)... I think I said something like "HEY!" but he just laughed.
His teeth were stained with chocolate.
Then he took a drink of my Dew.
Again, I said "HEY!" but this time very menacingly and he stopped. He had a little smile on his face as he slowly let the Dew dribble back into the can, all backwashy with chocolate and spit.
I would like to say that everything went blank or I suddenly saw red before my eyes, but even back then I was showing the signs of a natural born killer. I would like to say it was an accident, but it wasn't. I was very deliberate. Took a single bullet, loaded it into the chamber, looked him in the eyes and pointed the gun at him. He laughed at me, he laughed. I can't believe he laughed at me. Nobody laughs at me, nobody.
I stayed cool and kept looking him in the eye. He didn't believe that I would or could do it, his expression never changed. Didn't change until I shot him in the jaw.
The trouble with .22's is that they really don't pack the punch I wish they did. Sure, the dude was fucked up, but there was just a little blood, a little hole. And he was still alive. I knew then that I couldn't go back and I really didn't want to.
He looked confused about what had happened and he watched me load a couple more rounds into the gun. He was probably making some sort of sound, but like I said, I had the makings of a real natural born killer and we don't really notice things like that... I remember the smells, the feel of the wind, the recoil of the gun, but not much about the victims. People call them victims, I prefer to think of them as "winners". Here's your prize motherfucker, I like to say. This really confuses them. I like people (sorry, the winners) to be confused before they die. I think they go to a better place this way.
Anyhow, I loaded up and then unloaded into the dudes skull. Killed him.
Didn't go through his pockets or nothing, just drug him down to the gravel pit, dug a shallow grave, shoved him in it, covered him up, then pissed on it. Kinda like marking my territory or something. I don't do that anymore. The peeing.
I've probably killed a couple dozen (who am I kidding, more like 50+) men since then, some for money, some for fun... I kill the ladies all the time, heh, ladykiller. But really, yeah, I don't have any trouble taking the ladies down. I like to get creative with him, act out little scenarios, you know. Sometimes I pretend like they broke my heart and act all hysterical before I whip out my gun.
"I love you!!! I love you with all my heart and soul!!! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME??? HOW COULD YOU??? You pretend like I don't even exist!!!"
I like to throw the "..don't even exist" part in there, since they don't know who the hell I am it seriously fucks with their heads. I usually let them start babbling about this before I put the gun to their lips and shush them... "Shh.." I whisper in their ear, stroke their hair a bit, run the gun down their chest to just over their heart and pull the trigger.
They typically cease to exist for me at that point. Like I didn't even really do it, or they really just disappeared. One minute I am screaming at them, the next moment they are gone... it is kinda confusing in a way, I don't get that sense of accomplishment... I guess there is always something lacking.
This one time, I had to take out a whole family of midgets... I think they were midgets, they might have been orphans, I get those two confused sometimes... they were smaller than my usual "winners"... I remember I was in a hurry... I set their tents on fire and shot them as they came running out... now that I think of it, I think they were boy scouts... which are the ones with the uniforms? Midgets? Uhh... No! I remember, I stepped in some Elephant poop and it smelled like popcorn and cotton candy! Midgets... ok, I feel good about that... So I set their tent on fire and they all came running out, screaming really high pitched... I had to crouch down to get a nice clean shot... I remember there were balloons... big red balloons, floating away and I took a couple shots at them between the killings... this one balloon, I shot at it, and it didn't pop, it just kinda jumped, and floated away on the breeze... sometimes I think I see it, just ahead of me, going down the street... I think about following it, but, you know, I don't believe in dreams and I fear where it might take me.
This one time I shot a hunter... I thought that was kind of Ironic, but it might have been a simile... or a pun or something...
I know, I know, you are probably thinking, uhhh, that's kind of a reach there, but what I didn't mention was that I was wearing a Rabbit suit... get it? That's funny.
He stood there watching me for a while, eating all my green M&M's (I kept them apart from the other colors, was saving them to give to the girl down the street)... I think I said something like "HEY!" but he just laughed.
His teeth were stained with chocolate.
Then he took a drink of my Dew.
Again, I said "HEY!" but this time very menacingly and he stopped. He had a little smile on his face as he slowly let the Dew dribble back into the can, all backwashy with chocolate and spit.
I would like to say that everything went blank or I suddenly saw red before my eyes, but even back then I was showing the signs of a natural born killer. I would like to say it was an accident, but it wasn't. I was very deliberate. Took a single bullet, loaded it into the chamber, looked him in the eyes and pointed the gun at him. He laughed at me, he laughed. I can't believe he laughed at me. Nobody laughs at me, nobody.
I stayed cool and kept looking him in the eye. He didn't believe that I would or could do it, his expression never changed. Didn't change until I shot him in the jaw.
The trouble with .22's is that they really don't pack the punch I wish they did. Sure, the dude was fucked up, but there was just a little blood, a little hole. And he was still alive. I knew then that I couldn't go back and I really didn't want to.
He looked confused about what had happened and he watched me load a couple more rounds into the gun. He was probably making some sort of sound, but like I said, I had the makings of a real natural born killer and we don't really notice things like that... I remember the smells, the feel of the wind, the recoil of the gun, but not much about the victims. People call them victims, I prefer to think of them as "winners". Here's your prize motherfucker, I like to say. This really confuses them. I like people (sorry, the winners) to be confused before they die. I think they go to a better place this way.
Anyhow, I loaded up and then unloaded into the dudes skull. Killed him.
Didn't go through his pockets or nothing, just drug him down to the gravel pit, dug a shallow grave, shoved him in it, covered him up, then pissed on it. Kinda like marking my territory or something. I don't do that anymore. The peeing.
I've probably killed a couple dozen (who am I kidding, more like 50+) men since then, some for money, some for fun... I kill the ladies all the time, heh, ladykiller. But really, yeah, I don't have any trouble taking the ladies down. I like to get creative with him, act out little scenarios, you know. Sometimes I pretend like they broke my heart and act all hysterical before I whip out my gun.
"I love you!!! I love you with all my heart and soul!!! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME??? HOW COULD YOU??? You pretend like I don't even exist!!!"
I like to throw the "..don't even exist" part in there, since they don't know who the hell I am it seriously fucks with their heads. I usually let them start babbling about this before I put the gun to their lips and shush them... "Shh.." I whisper in their ear, stroke their hair a bit, run the gun down their chest to just over their heart and pull the trigger.
They typically cease to exist for me at that point. Like I didn't even really do it, or they really just disappeared. One minute I am screaming at them, the next moment they are gone... it is kinda confusing in a way, I don't get that sense of accomplishment... I guess there is always something lacking.
This one time, I had to take out a whole family of midgets... I think they were midgets, they might have been orphans, I get those two confused sometimes... they were smaller than my usual "winners"... I remember I was in a hurry... I set their tents on fire and shot them as they came running out... now that I think of it, I think they were boy scouts... which are the ones with the uniforms? Midgets? Uhh... No! I remember, I stepped in some Elephant poop and it smelled like popcorn and cotton candy! Midgets... ok, I feel good about that... So I set their tent on fire and they all came running out, screaming really high pitched... I had to crouch down to get a nice clean shot... I remember there were balloons... big red balloons, floating away and I took a couple shots at them between the killings... this one balloon, I shot at it, and it didn't pop, it just kinda jumped, and floated away on the breeze... sometimes I think I see it, just ahead of me, going down the street... I think about following it, but, you know, I don't believe in dreams and I fear where it might take me.
This one time I shot a hunter... I thought that was kind of Ironic, but it might have been a simile... or a pun or something...
I know, I know, you are probably thinking, uhhh, that's kind of a reach there, but what I didn't mention was that I was wearing a Rabbit suit... get it? That's funny.
posted by Catfish at 11:25 AM
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