That shit you’ve heard? It’s true. Sometimes I get a little low. And I never stay that for long . . . you see, I’m rarely ever sober. So when I’m without the effects of my beloved drink and drugs, I live in a perpetual state of wild rage. Anger boils in my heart when that little girl on the park swing looks over at me. I’m just conducting my business, goin’ about my fucking life, and I intercept a happy-go-fucky parade. Oh, just my pissing luck. I fucking hate society, the human race, and anyone with a tacky goddamn smile on their lying face, just begging me to rub it off with the heel of my combat boot. That’s how I was feeling when a little runt bumps into me and spills her snow cone all over my top. I couldn’t let it go, I just couldn’t. I had to slit her throat and watch the blood bubble up from her lungs like gurgling butterflies caught in the net of her esophagus. It was beautiful. I clung to her like a lifeline as I watched the inner strength fade away from her. She was draining her own memories, her own past, losing her future at my hands. My grasp…’round her neck. The blood on my hands was so red and vivid it made me do a double take. I couldn’t believe it. I needed more…so I took it. I lowered my head and began to drink. I licked it up like her fading life energy was my salvation. And when I dropped her motionless, wet body to the pavement below, I realized the ice of the snow cone was stained red, too. I didn’t know if it was the cherry flavoring or the blood I had spilled, but nevertheless, I’d smeared that white beyond repair…
Bianca
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