Bad as Fuck by Jason Armstrong Page A

publishers fight over the rights.  Maybe I should start working on my autobiography now in case I don't have time before they send me to the gas chamber.  Everybody wants to know what goes on in the mind of a serial killer.  Nobody gives a shit about the nice guy who lives next door and keeps to himself.  You don't care about the guy who bags your groceries until you find out he has a graveyard in his basement.
    That's another thing.  I'd have to buy myself a house that has a basement with a dirt floor.  Right now I live in an apartment with a roommate.  My landlord wouldn't let me build a dungeon; that would forfeit my deposit, I think.  And I'm just a poor college student; I can't afford a house.  I don't have the credit.  Plus, after I graduate I'll be paying off student loans until I'm in my thirties. Becoming a serial killer might have to be more of a long term goal.  There's lots of things I hadn't considered.  It just seemed so simple until I really thought about it.
    I don't know.  I think I'm just going to eat some pizza rolls and go to bed.
     
     
     
     
     

MORNING BREATH

     I'd been waking up lately with drool all over my pillow. 
    Much more than normal.
    It got so bad that I started to worry that I had a tumor or at least some kind of sinus problem.  I wanted to ask my wife what she might think was going on but we already hadn't had sex yet that month so I decided I didn't want to do or say anything to jeopardize any potential “situation” that might arise.  So finally I decided to stay up and see exactly what I was doing in my sleep for myself.
    The last time I remember looking at the clock it was about two in the morning.  The next thing I knew I woke up to my wife spitting into my mouth.  I was so shocked that I didn't move or say anything.  Never before had I been in this sort of situation so, not knowing how to react, I simply did not.  She wasn't exactly spitting, she was actually sitting over me and letting a thick strand of saliva flow into my mouth.  After the initial shock wore off I rolled over, still pretending to be asleep.  I wanted to ask her what the fuck she was doing but at that point I didn't know how dangerous the person I shared a bed with was.  I was scared just to turn away from this strange attack but she silently un-straddled me and went back to her side of the bed.  After I was sure that she was asleep I got up and brushed my teeth.  Twice.
    She has to work before I do so we didn't see each other until the next evening.  I didn't bring up what happened the night before.  Like I said, we hadn't had sex all month and I didn't want to get into a fight.  I figured if she wanted to bring it up I'd let her but I wasn't going to rock the boat.  But she didn't say anything and seemed fine so as we were getting settled down for the night I decided to try put the moves on her.
    “Oh, honey,”  she said.  “I'm just so tired.  I'm ready to pass out.”
    I bet she was.  She always was the first one to fall asleep.  Now I knew why; she was resting up to spit in my mouth in the middle of the night.  But I didn't say anything.  Instead I tried rubbing her back, hoping to change her mind.  But my plan backfired because within five minutes she was fast asleep.  After having not slept the night before I was wiped out but I needed to know what was going on.  It was horrifying having to go to sleep not knowing what was being done to me while I was unconscious.  So I set up our video camera on my book shelf in a way that she was unlikely to notice it the next morning and allowed myself to fall into a disturbed sleep. 
     The next morning I got up and right away checked the video even before I went to the bathroom.  And what I discovered was truly terrible.  Around three she slowly sat up and mechanically got on top of me again.  On the video you could hear me snoring; I couldn't believe I didn't wake up but I guess I was exhausted.  I figured I was going