his snot-nosed friend. They’d be hunting or fishing or shooting up at the lake. By that, I mean they’d be “shooting” up at the lake, not “shooting up” at the lake. English sucks. One of the lads would have the misfortune of tripping over her fish-bitten corpse. It’s always the same. Joe and Jack Dumbfuck are out on an innocent hike when they happen to come across a decaying body. They ponder the situation (i.e. search the body for money and jewelry) before finally placing an anonymous call to the police.
It’s funny what we do anonymously. It’s the ultimate cop-out, but it does a lot of good for the world.
It would happen soon, I was sure of it. Those woods were heavily used, and wasn’t like I’d made any extra effort to conceal what I had done. We only conceal that which we are ashamed of, like little dogs who piss the carpet.
The second reason for my escape into the woods was equally practical. I was now a force of nature, and I thought it only right that I be closer to my benefactor.
I no longer wanted to subject myself to the influence of my global society—a society that has practiced genocide and held slaves. Think about that for a moment. Fewer than 200 years ago, slavery was a state-sanctioned institution. It was the norm. How can I ever take seriously the moral statements of any people who would hold their own as captives? It perplexes me to consider the fact that some folks consider humans to be basically good creatures. I spit in those people’s faces.
So I took my bag of treats and I ran far, far away.
It was time to get down and dirty. It was time to do my duty.
Page 80
Chapter Eighteen
I can’t say that the decision was an easy one. My first thought was of Mrs. Edwards, the wife of that asshole teacher I was telling you about. Like I said, she deserved it. I went as far as to ascertain her last known address, or at least the last known address I had the ability to get my hands on.
Two things stopped me. For the first part, there was a good chance she’d be dead by now. And even if she wasn’t, she’d surely be old, frail, and feeble-minded.
There’s no challenge in that. She’d probably be offering me cookies even as I slipped the noose around her wrinkly, crusty neck. I shudder at the thought of old peoples’ necks.
Secondly, and ultimately more important, was the integrity of my new position. There is a certain amount of honor which needs to be maintained when one is given a measure of responsibility. I wasn’t about to take such a position for granted by striking down some balding idiot just because he cut me off at a green arrow. No, more thought would be necessary. For a while, I considered random acts of terror. Perhaps allowing fate to decide things with a simple flip through the phone book. Somehow, that didn’t suit me. I’d have as good a chance of knocking off a strong, glowing force as I would have of taking out some lowlife, parasitic bloodworm.
The narcissism factor was admittedly a challenge.
I had always been ugly, weak, slow-minded. Here was an opportunity for cold revenge, the dream of every small boy ever to be picked last in a gym-class roundup.
I even came up with a fantasy. I imagined eyeing a well-built, smart-looking man at the grocery store. .
some slug who would no doubt have garnered favor in the locker room. I’d follow him and his waspish, one-too-many-times-under-the-knife, dye-streaked wife back to their million-dollar home and hold them both Page 81
at gunpoint. At that time I’d force the wife to strip, and have relations with her while the strapping beau stood by, watching impotent and red-faced. Yeah, I’d get her all turned on, too, you bet I would.
I’d tie him to the banister, naked but for a pair of his old lady’s best pink skivvies. That’s the way I’d love the cops to find him: shamed, powerless, and beaten at his own game of humiliation. Maybe I’d leave him his wife’s fingers to remember me by. And two
It’s funny what we do anonymously. It’s the ultimate cop-out, but it does a lot of good for the world.
It would happen soon, I was sure of it. Those woods were heavily used, and wasn’t like I’d made any extra effort to conceal what I had done. We only conceal that which we are ashamed of, like little dogs who piss the carpet.
The second reason for my escape into the woods was equally practical. I was now a force of nature, and I thought it only right that I be closer to my benefactor.
I no longer wanted to subject myself to the influence of my global society—a society that has practiced genocide and held slaves. Think about that for a moment. Fewer than 200 years ago, slavery was a state-sanctioned institution. It was the norm. How can I ever take seriously the moral statements of any people who would hold their own as captives? It perplexes me to consider the fact that some folks consider humans to be basically good creatures. I spit in those people’s faces.
So I took my bag of treats and I ran far, far away.
It was time to get down and dirty. It was time to do my duty.
Page 80
Chapter Eighteen
I can’t say that the decision was an easy one. My first thought was of Mrs. Edwards, the wife of that asshole teacher I was telling you about. Like I said, she deserved it. I went as far as to ascertain her last known address, or at least the last known address I had the ability to get my hands on.
Two things stopped me. For the first part, there was a good chance she’d be dead by now. And even if she wasn’t, she’d surely be old, frail, and feeble-minded.
There’s no challenge in that. She’d probably be offering me cookies even as I slipped the noose around her wrinkly, crusty neck. I shudder at the thought of old peoples’ necks.
Secondly, and ultimately more important, was the integrity of my new position. There is a certain amount of honor which needs to be maintained when one is given a measure of responsibility. I wasn’t about to take such a position for granted by striking down some balding idiot just because he cut me off at a green arrow. No, more thought would be necessary. For a while, I considered random acts of terror. Perhaps allowing fate to decide things with a simple flip through the phone book. Somehow, that didn’t suit me. I’d have as good a chance of knocking off a strong, glowing force as I would have of taking out some lowlife, parasitic bloodworm.
The narcissism factor was admittedly a challenge.
I had always been ugly, weak, slow-minded. Here was an opportunity for cold revenge, the dream of every small boy ever to be picked last in a gym-class roundup.
I even came up with a fantasy. I imagined eyeing a well-built, smart-looking man at the grocery store. .
some slug who would no doubt have garnered favor in the locker room. I’d follow him and his waspish, one-too-many-times-under-the-knife, dye-streaked wife back to their million-dollar home and hold them both Page 81
at gunpoint. At that time I’d force the wife to strip, and have relations with her while the strapping beau stood by, watching impotent and red-faced. Yeah, I’d get her all turned on, too, you bet I would.
I’d tie him to the banister, naked but for a pair of his old lady’s best pink skivvies. That’s the way I’d love the cops to find him: shamed, powerless, and beaten at his own game of humiliation. Maybe I’d leave him his wife’s fingers to remember me by. And two
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