I know I do not fit in. I never have, likely never will. I tried to make some new hipster friends recently. If for any other reason, than just to not look like such a Wednesday Adams to my parents, and more importantly the cops. Every time someone goes missing, I don’t need them looking at the antisocial bitch in the community. I got invited to a dinner party. The conversation was insipid at best. But, I was trying. All these dudes in skinny jeans was criminal, however. And the music , don’t get started on that. A bullet to the brain was less painful than this awful band Neutral Milk Honey. What the fuck kind of name is that anyway? When I suggested we play some Slayer, maybe go a little “South of Heaven,” this one bitch started spewing some post modernistic babble about pastiche and irony exhausting themselves as aesthetics. Essentially she was using pretentious speech to insult heavy metal. Unacceptable.
When I heard the lyric, “And one day we will die and our ashes will fly,” I lost it. I thought this bitch’s one day is now. My hero Patrick Bateman channeled through me, as I grabbed the butcher knife in the ham and just started giving the Roger Ebert of music 50 whacks. I realized it was not all in my head. I was killing this bitch on the dining room table for real. Blood spewed all over the ceiling and across the faces of dumbfounded assholes in colored skinny jeans. They looked at me like I was a crazed bitch. I am I guess. But I could not let her drone on like that. Her body laid lifeless, covered in blood like some macabre center piece. Made me wet.
The room was silent. They all were in shock; they feared me. I have impulse control issues, as well as anger issues. I simply have no tolerance for stupidity or pretentiousness. I did think for a moment of killing them all. The world needs less hipsters anyway, but I decided to use their fear to control them. If they didn’t want to be a bloody centerpiece, a dead hipster, they better join me in dining on their friend. I forced them to eat her remains. I am usually more methodical about my kills so I don’t have to worry about detection and proper disposal, but shit happens. I have discovered that eating the victim, hides the remains. I was covered in their friend’s blood wielding a big ass knife, which apparently put the fear of God in them. They sprinkled some hot sauce on her and started eating her like she was BBQ ribs; like they were the progeny of Hannibal Lector. Gave new meaning to the phrase “having a friend over for dinner.” Made me more wet.
I don’t play well with others. But, I do play well with knives and annoying people. Invite me to your dinner party. I will fly into a rage and kill whomever annoys you too.
