narrator
11-09-2002, 06:12 PM
It’s getting faster now; I can feel it, just like they said I would.
Starting over was what he did best. The road was like that, it wasn’t like everything else, it had no memory or opinions, just acceptance, whoever you are. And that’s just the thing, whoever. Starting over was what he did best.
“Can I help you?” Said the window or rather beyond the window. He didn’t look at them; he never looked at anyone.
“Yes, I need a room.” He said to the window and waited for the response.
Just like a trigger all it took was a little pressure to make it happen. Nobody else can hear it, nobody else can feel it, nobody else understands. So you just take it then take it out.
The room was a start, a little small but you can deal with things like that. He got undressed and showered. The phone didn’t ring; it was a blessing.
Darkness came and slowly took over the room. Night was like that. It changed things, little things. It was then that he did his best work; it just felt a little darker, more comfortable then.
Then the phone didn’t ring again.
The first one took it in the head. Just like a melon it had just fucking sprayed everywhere. That was the problem, I thought that you should use the biggest fucking thing and just blast ‘em. But the thing is, you don’t want that, it’s messy, too messy. You have to find a medium, something just right.
So the second one took it in the head again. But that time, just right.
The phone still didn’t ring. Now it was getting troubling. He knew that making it, had to do with availability and professionalism. He had the professionalism down, but he was available and nobody was calling. At first there had been so much that he had got sick of all the offers.
Maybe he had given the little SOB the wrong number. It was possible; I mean he only saw the number once. Waiting was getting to be the work here. He ha to get it out of his system, the phone needed to ring just once, only once.
Just the feel of that weight is like the feel of power. You know you have something when that thing goes off. I liked it, still do, probably always will.
He was by himself; that was good. He seemed to be a little disoriented, that made it easier.
First you wait, everyone knew that, the time had to be right, just right. So the waiting began and that was all there was to do. He had gone into a diner and ate; he seemed to be without an appetite. He hadn’t eaten any of his meal or almost none of it.
Then you get ready, preparation. He went into his room; then there was working out how it would go down. This guy might fight he was obviously depressed; those guys sometimes went nuts on you.
Then you make the move. First open the door, but the dumb shit hadn’t even locked it, that made it much easier to deal with. Then inside, stealth takes part now. You don’t want to be discovered, people can make 911 calls incredibly fast, but you don’t want the person not to see you, I mean they are entitled to see who they are getting killed by, that was the problem with most of the others; they weren’t very respectful.
Then you end it. Get right up close. They don’t know, that someone is there. Then push it right up against them, they like that. You can feel their skin crawl. Then for good measure, “Goodbye.” Boom. That was it.
He stared at the body for a while; he probably hadn’t been such a bad guy.
It never occurred to me that this was wrong. I mean they said it was. Don’t believe what everyone else thinks though. But it was the only thing I had been good at.
I like to be the trigger when nobody else has the courage to be one for themselves.
It is faster now, right afterward, pumping inside. They said you would feel it, but not like they said, I feel it, not remorse or guilt. I feel alive, just for a second, but there’s so much more to do, I won’t feel down for long.
Starting over was what he did best. The road was like that, it wasn’t like everything else, it had no memory or opinions, just acceptance, whoever you are. And that’s just the thing, whoever. Starting over was what he did best.
“Can I help you?” Said the window or rather beyond the window. He didn’t look at them; he never looked at anyone.
“Yes, I need a room.” He said to the window and waited for the response.
Just like a trigger all it took was a little pressure to make it happen. Nobody else can hear it, nobody else can feel it, nobody else understands. So you just take it then take it out.
The room was a start, a little small but you can deal with things like that. He got undressed and showered. The phone didn’t ring; it was a blessing.
Darkness came and slowly took over the room. Night was like that. It changed things, little things. It was then that he did his best work; it just felt a little darker, more comfortable then.
Then the phone didn’t ring again.
The first one took it in the head. Just like a melon it had just fucking sprayed everywhere. That was the problem, I thought that you should use the biggest fucking thing and just blast ‘em. But the thing is, you don’t want that, it’s messy, too messy. You have to find a medium, something just right.
So the second one took it in the head again. But that time, just right.
The phone still didn’t ring. Now it was getting troubling. He knew that making it, had to do with availability and professionalism. He had the professionalism down, but he was available and nobody was calling. At first there had been so much that he had got sick of all the offers.
Maybe he had given the little SOB the wrong number. It was possible; I mean he only saw the number once. Waiting was getting to be the work here. He ha to get it out of his system, the phone needed to ring just once, only once.
Just the feel of that weight is like the feel of power. You know you have something when that thing goes off. I liked it, still do, probably always will.
He was by himself; that was good. He seemed to be a little disoriented, that made it easier.
First you wait, everyone knew that, the time had to be right, just right. So the waiting began and that was all there was to do. He had gone into a diner and ate; he seemed to be without an appetite. He hadn’t eaten any of his meal or almost none of it.
Then you get ready, preparation. He went into his room; then there was working out how it would go down. This guy might fight he was obviously depressed; those guys sometimes went nuts on you.
Then you make the move. First open the door, but the dumb shit hadn’t even locked it, that made it much easier to deal with. Then inside, stealth takes part now. You don’t want to be discovered, people can make 911 calls incredibly fast, but you don’t want the person not to see you, I mean they are entitled to see who they are getting killed by, that was the problem with most of the others; they weren’t very respectful.
Then you end it. Get right up close. They don’t know, that someone is there. Then push it right up against them, they like that. You can feel their skin crawl. Then for good measure, “Goodbye.” Boom. That was it.
He stared at the body for a while; he probably hadn’t been such a bad guy.
It never occurred to me that this was wrong. I mean they said it was. Don’t believe what everyone else thinks though. But it was the only thing I had been good at.
I like to be the trigger when nobody else has the courage to be one for themselves.
It is faster now, right afterward, pumping inside. They said you would feel it, but not like they said, I feel it, not remorse or guilt. I feel alive, just for a second, but there’s so much more to do, I won’t feel down for long.