two sick fucks with a single swoop!
Ahh but who am I kidding? If I had what it takes to do it, I wouldn't have had to go through any of the things I just went through. Plus, if I'm being honest, the deranged nature of this man has me curious. Even after that freak show, I feel less like dying now than I have all day.
For no reason at all, I picture myself, on hands and knees, crawling over to the dead woman and chewing on her limp jaw. It makes me ill. What in god's name was that? It's this damn silence! Blood is squirting unapologetically over all my thoughts, and I can't take any more of it! I gotta change the topic in my head; get another tape playing in the stereo of my mind.
Desperate for relief, I release the first words I can think of.
"That was wrong." I put as much moral authority as I can into the proclamation. The stranger sighs and slaps a palm to his forehead.
"I know, I know. Ahhh damnit. I was just thinking the same thing. Do you think we should go back for it?"
WTF?
"Go back for what? What are you talking about?"
"What am I talking about? What are you talking about? We shouldn't have left that dog up there. I hope it doesn't get hit by a car... but then again, that would be an easier fate than freezing, starving, or being taken to the pound. We should have brought it, maybe found it a good home. It seemed to like you. You could have kept it."
I'm stunned that that is where his mind is at-almost too stunned to speak-so for a second, I don't. He just pulped a woman's head and all he's worried about is her dog?
Ah, shit. And now I'm worried about her dog! He's right. We probably should've brought that pup along. But why am I thinking about the dog? That is not the issue at hand!
"I'm not talking about the dog! What was wrong was what you did to that woman!”
The stranger snorts a quick, derisive laugh, as if I am nothing more than a child trying to convince him of the existence of Santa. "Wrong? Which part exactly?"
"Which part?" I get a little hysterical. "WHICH PART!? How about the part where you turned her head into a puddle of mush, huh? How about THAT fucking part!"
"Is it wrong to turn a head to mush?"
“Is it wrong to...?” I should just stop talking. This man is being absurd. No good can come from arguing with a lunatic, but he's got me heated so I continue anyway. "What kind of jackass question is that? Of course it is wrong. IT’S WRONG TO KILL PEOPLE YOU STUPID DUMMY!"
The stranger instantly takes on a very sober expression and tone. "Oh. I see. And are you talking about all the time, or only certain situations?"
"What?"
"Like, would it have been wrong for you to kill me to stop me from killing her?"
I can tell he's trying to pull me into some trap, yet I push forward anyway, curiosity and the conviction that I'm right shoving me along. "Well, no, not if that was the only way I could have stopped you."
"That's strange. So sometimes it's okay to kill... but only in the right circumstances. Is that what you're saying?"
"Pretty much." I don't like where this is going.
"So when is it okay?"
"I dunno, when it's justified. Like, if you have to for self-defense, or to protect other people. Or in war, or if the person is evil: like a murderer or something."
"And what I did was wrong."
"Yes, that's correct. I shouldn't have to explain this to you."
"O contraire, my friend! You just made a claim I do not agree with. I still don't see that what I did was wrong. You are going to have to continue enlightening me if you want me to understand."
I take a deep breath. I thought the statement, 'killing is wrong,' was just universally accepted. I've never really thought how to explain it. "I feel like you’re asking me to explain colors to a blind person. Killing is just wrong, just like blue is just blue."
"That isn't a fair comparison at all! You, yourself, just barely said that in some cases killing is okay, which would be like saying sometimes blue is red. We both know that is never
Ahh but who am I kidding? If I had what it takes to do it, I wouldn't have had to go through any of the things I just went through. Plus, if I'm being honest, the deranged nature of this man has me curious. Even after that freak show, I feel less like dying now than I have all day.
For no reason at all, I picture myself, on hands and knees, crawling over to the dead woman and chewing on her limp jaw. It makes me ill. What in god's name was that? It's this damn silence! Blood is squirting unapologetically over all my thoughts, and I can't take any more of it! I gotta change the topic in my head; get another tape playing in the stereo of my mind.
Desperate for relief, I release the first words I can think of.
"That was wrong." I put as much moral authority as I can into the proclamation. The stranger sighs and slaps a palm to his forehead.
"I know, I know. Ahhh damnit. I was just thinking the same thing. Do you think we should go back for it?"
WTF?
"Go back for what? What are you talking about?"
"What am I talking about? What are you talking about? We shouldn't have left that dog up there. I hope it doesn't get hit by a car... but then again, that would be an easier fate than freezing, starving, or being taken to the pound. We should have brought it, maybe found it a good home. It seemed to like you. You could have kept it."
I'm stunned that that is where his mind is at-almost too stunned to speak-so for a second, I don't. He just pulped a woman's head and all he's worried about is her dog?
Ah, shit. And now I'm worried about her dog! He's right. We probably should've brought that pup along. But why am I thinking about the dog? That is not the issue at hand!
"I'm not talking about the dog! What was wrong was what you did to that woman!”
The stranger snorts a quick, derisive laugh, as if I am nothing more than a child trying to convince him of the existence of Santa. "Wrong? Which part exactly?"
"Which part?" I get a little hysterical. "WHICH PART!? How about the part where you turned her head into a puddle of mush, huh? How about THAT fucking part!"
"Is it wrong to turn a head to mush?"
“Is it wrong to...?” I should just stop talking. This man is being absurd. No good can come from arguing with a lunatic, but he's got me heated so I continue anyway. "What kind of jackass question is that? Of course it is wrong. IT’S WRONG TO KILL PEOPLE YOU STUPID DUMMY!"
The stranger instantly takes on a very sober expression and tone. "Oh. I see. And are you talking about all the time, or only certain situations?"
"What?"
"Like, would it have been wrong for you to kill me to stop me from killing her?"
I can tell he's trying to pull me into some trap, yet I push forward anyway, curiosity and the conviction that I'm right shoving me along. "Well, no, not if that was the only way I could have stopped you."
"That's strange. So sometimes it's okay to kill... but only in the right circumstances. Is that what you're saying?"
"Pretty much." I don't like where this is going.
"So when is it okay?"
"I dunno, when it's justified. Like, if you have to for self-defense, or to protect other people. Or in war, or if the person is evil: like a murderer or something."
"And what I did was wrong."
"Yes, that's correct. I shouldn't have to explain this to you."
"O contraire, my friend! You just made a claim I do not agree with. I still don't see that what I did was wrong. You are going to have to continue enlightening me if you want me to understand."
I take a deep breath. I thought the statement, 'killing is wrong,' was just universally accepted. I've never really thought how to explain it. "I feel like you’re asking me to explain colors to a blind person. Killing is just wrong, just like blue is just blue."
"That isn't a fair comparison at all! You, yourself, just barely said that in some cases killing is okay, which would be like saying sometimes blue is red. We both know that is never
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