It’s Halloween time. My favorite. Normally, I am not a knife wielding psychopath unless provoked. If I am gonna cut a bitch or stab a tool, they have usually deserved it. But something about Halloween brings out my inner Michael Myers. You know, stone cold killer, no rhyme or reason to his victims. Last weekend, I was walking around my neighborhood and I just felt homicidal. Felt compelled to kill. To just kill for fun. So I started creeping around in backyards looking for blood to spill, flesh to tear.
Then I saw them, a family of four on their back porch carving pumpkins. They looked idyllic, almost like out of some Good Parenting magazine or something. That made me hate them. Made me want them snuffed out, even the little ones. I walked right up on their porch too. Showed them my knife collection and asked if I could help carve pumpkins. They looked a little taken a back, but still they invited me in. A strange woman, with knifes, trespassing in their back yard. Yeah they deserved to not live.
I played the game with them for awhile to give them a false sense of security, then the carnage and mayhem began. I tied them all up to chairs and put them face to face. Mommy son, daddy daughter. I like to watch the fear in their eyes. I like to see the “why us” look in their faces. Sometimes there is no why. Just opportunity. Like today. And maybe if they had been a bit smarter they could have lived.
I like to play games with my prey. I told Daddy if he wanted his sweet innocent offspring to survive he was gonna have to prove his love. I told him to kiss her, a big romantic one too. And he did. He hesitated and got a knife in his thigh, but then he did. I told him I could spare her life if he fucked his baby girl. I told Mommy the same thing about her son. You would think they would do anything to spare their wee one’s lives. Guess love does have some bounds. Sad really. If my life depended on it, If the life of a loved one depended on it, I would saw off my arm. And Mommy and Daddy won’t have sex with their offspring. Would you do anything I said if your loved one’s lives depended on it?
I snuffed them all out right there on their porch. Total blood bath. I went into a frenzy with my knives. Slaughtered the innocent lambs first so I could enjoy watching their parents cry and plead. I enjoyed telling them too that their blood was on their hands. They could have prevented the slaughter. My knives covered in blood, I let mommy and daddy have a taste. Sick, I know, but fun too. They didn’t really love their brats or they would have done whatever I asked without hesitation. The pumpkins they were carving now covered in their blood too.
The real fun was slaughtering mommy and daddy. Random senseless acts of violence make me feel good. A knife in an artery with a slow bleed out while looking into your partner’s eyes as you die, pretty darn entertaining. Oh the shit they say to each other. The confessions they make. Guess they wanna die with a clean conscious or some silly shit. But I sat there, watching them make their dying confessions, profess their love yada yada yada. Blood spurting everywhere. Turned me on actually. Blood spraying me like that is an aphrodisiac. I need an accomplice. Someone I can trust. Be so much more fun to share both my random and not so random acts of violence with a partner who gets off on the blood, the violence, the torture too. Is that you?