A few word's about said incident....
It is true that I have killed another human being. I'm not going to deny this obvious fact as it is probably the most important thing I've done lately. My motives are not important. I know that is always frustrating for people to hear, but believe me, they are incidental. What is important is that I did it and I had a quivering feeling in my stomach that I was going to get away with it. I usually don't get nervous so this surprised me. It was almost a relief when my door crashed in and the police rushed forward. I didn't enjoy where this feeling was heading. Jail I can handle. Jail is a zoo filled with "abnormalities." These gentleman seem to believe that I have one. I probably do. I once stole a raw chicken from a grocery store just so somebody would chase me and I could ask them "why do you want it back? It is already dead."
Some decide that they should keep trophies or mementos from their crimes. I had kept this gentleman's hand not out concern for future nostalgia but because of the absurdity of it. The damn thing had taken me more than ten minutes to hack off, which I did for no other reason than to place in the minds of the investigators who would discover the poor bastard the idea that there was more to this.
Good god the man's hand has been cleaved off?! But why?! Was he handcuffed to something? A nuclear football perhaps? Who was this man?! Should we call the FBI?! Jesus Christ we've got a real fucking Tom Clancy novel problem here!
I thought it would really make their day.
The truth of it is the hand was attached to nothing more than an imbecile with bad taste in cologne and cheap suits. I left him lying naked because well, if they found him lying with wardrobe provided by Sears then they most certainly would not have mistook him for a top level government official now would they? The intrigue would have been lost.
It seems like I am making all of this up. This is a rediculous, stupid little story I am telling you. Nobody knows that more than I. The thing of it is I don't care. I was feeling bored and cooped up in my little box of an apartment. I needed some fresh air but I wasn't going to leave for the sake of it. I hate walks. To travel without destination was pointless, so I provided one. And there he sat at his bar stool all cozied up to Sally the ubiquitous cocktail waitress who is just good enough looking to be a cocktail waitress but nothing more. I had tried talking to her once. I got the sense she wasn't interested in the restrictions of free will.
I had tailed him, mostly for sport at first as the site of him had reminded me of some character I had seen in a movie. Some slimy underling played by a character actor who always plays the slimy underling. Anyway the underling had met his demise near the end of act two and viewing his childhood and teenage years as act one and the events which led him to the bar on the night as act two I thought it would be hilariously ironic if...well I hope you see where this is going because to detail the rest would be just sad.
I hoped that when I died I would have a chance to face it and acknowledge my end. To really have a chance to put a period on the sentence of my existence would have provided me the great opportunity to embrace and enjoy death. I never had any plans that meant too much to me. So I took great pride in the fact that I was always ready to go. I wanted it to be like going to bed at night though. Slipping into the covers with a smile on my face.
This man had other ideas and by the time he finished gurgling up blood through his tears and mucus covered face I decided that this had become like every other, an exercise in human weakness. So I cut off his hand because it made me feel better about spending so much time in persuit of such a vile creature. I kept the hand because I didn't want anyone to find it until they found me.
I feel awfully self indulgent explaining myself but you see it was the last great thing I did all week. It felt better and better as I walked back home, patting myself on the back with the hand. I can't help but smile now at the thought.
It is true that I have killed another human being. I'm not going to deny this obvious fact as it is probably the most important thing I've done lately. My motives are not important. I know that is always frustrating for people to hear, but believe me, they are incidental. What is important is that I did it and I had a quivering feeling in my stomach that I was going to get away with it. I usually don't get nervous so this surprised me. It was almost a relief when my door crashed in and the police rushed forward. I didn't enjoy where this feeling was heading. Jail I can handle. Jail is a zoo filled with "abnormalities." These gentleman seem to believe that I have one. I probably do. I once stole a raw chicken from a grocery store just so somebody would chase me and I could ask them "why do you want it back? It is already dead."
Some decide that they should keep trophies or mementos from their crimes. I had kept this gentleman's hand not out concern for future nostalgia but because of the absurdity of it. The damn thing had taken me more than ten minutes to hack off, which I did for no other reason than to place in the minds of the investigators who would discover the poor bastard the idea that there was more to this.
Good god the man's hand has been cleaved off?! But why?! Was he handcuffed to something? A nuclear football perhaps? Who was this man?! Should we call the FBI?! Jesus Christ we've got a real fucking Tom Clancy novel problem here!
I thought it would really make their day.
The truth of it is the hand was attached to nothing more than an imbecile with bad taste in cologne and cheap suits. I left him lying naked because well, if they found him lying with wardrobe provided by Sears then they most certainly would not have mistook him for a top level government official now would they? The intrigue would have been lost.
It seems like I am making all of this up. This is a rediculous, stupid little story I am telling you. Nobody knows that more than I. The thing of it is I don't care. I was feeling bored and cooped up in my little box of an apartment. I needed some fresh air but I wasn't going to leave for the sake of it. I hate walks. To travel without destination was pointless, so I provided one. And there he sat at his bar stool all cozied up to Sally the ubiquitous cocktail waitress who is just good enough looking to be a cocktail waitress but nothing more. I had tried talking to her once. I got the sense she wasn't interested in the restrictions of free will.
I had tailed him, mostly for sport at first as the site of him had reminded me of some character I had seen in a movie. Some slimy underling played by a character actor who always plays the slimy underling. Anyway the underling had met his demise near the end of act two and viewing his childhood and teenage years as act one and the events which led him to the bar on the night as act two I thought it would be hilariously ironic if...well I hope you see where this is going because to detail the rest would be just sad.
I hoped that when I died I would have a chance to face it and acknowledge my end. To really have a chance to put a period on the sentence of my existence would have provided me the great opportunity to embrace and enjoy death. I never had any plans that meant too much to me. So I took great pride in the fact that I was always ready to go. I wanted it to be like going to bed at night though. Slipping into the covers with a smile on my face.
This man had other ideas and by the time he finished gurgling up blood through his tears and mucus covered face I decided that this had become like every other, an exercise in human weakness. So I cut off his hand because it made me feel better about spending so much time in persuit of such a vile creature. I kept the hand because I didn't want anyone to find it until they found me.
I feel awfully self indulgent explaining myself but you see it was the last great thing I did all week. It felt better and better as I walked back home, patting myself on the back with the hand. I can't help but smile now at the thought.
posted by Chaz Coolington at 2:13 PM
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