DeadWatch
12-22-2007, 08:45 PM
Hello everyone! I wrote this earlier and thought of you guys. Happy Holidays from me to all you evil people!
+'Tis the Season+:shock:
"Oh come all ye faithful." The voices sang in unison, some off key.
The sound of carolers outside my picture window makes my skin crawl; I've always hated caroling, since I was a young boy. My mother made me go once; I vomited dinner onto someone's front lawn. That earned me the beating of my life and a week in the basement. That's what happened when you made mother look like a fool.
Besides, Christmas was never one of my favorite holidays and being single and fifty; I have no need for all this fucking cheer. I just want to be left alone to my eggnog and rum. Who needs these freaks cluttering up my yard anyway? Certainly not me, and I think you'd agree with me on this one, they are a nuisance and it's time to eliminate the vermin. Maybe a sip or two from the ole family recipe nog will do the trick.
After whipping up a batch, I make my way to the front door, opening it and welcoming them all to have a glass. They drink it up with a thirst I have only seen one other time, and that was me, after that week in the basement. I smile at them as the drink, confident that soon, I will be rid of them. I walk back inside and watch from my window as the effects take hold, one by one.
The first one is Greta, the old bag from across the street, nosy little ninny that one is. Every time I try and bring back one of my "special friends" from downtown, all I can see is that old bitch peering from behind her venetian blinds.
Her eyes are glazing over fast and the excitement is building in my gut. Another couple of them hit the snow face first and I start to ready myself for the festivities about to commence.
As I hit the doorway naked, save for my boots, I give the chainsaw another pull and it screams into life, the chain making its rounds. I step over to the pile of carolers, humming Jingle Bells to myself, I notice Greta moving about. I give the saw some gas and plant it on her right thigh. It chews through her pants and right into the muscle and bone. She moans a little, the poison holding most functions at bay. Her leg lies askew from the rest of her body, blood coming in spurts with the slow, rhythmic beat of her heart.
The rush of dispatching all this trash makes me hard. So there I stand in all this snow, bloody and hard as a teenage boy with a Playboy, my boner bobbing up and down, as I dance around her legless body.
I pick up her leg and show it to her.
"See what happens to nosy bitches?" my words determined, I slam the leg down on her face, over and over until her breathing ceases.
The rest of the carolers were an after thought, as I alternated between my saw and a hammer, their heads never stood a chance. I was lucky enough to have light traffic through my neighborhood; it afforded me the time to do what I really needed to do.
I look out my picture window at the carolers propped up on my front lawn and they don't bother me so much now. And as far as everyone else is concerned, the last six percent of carolers are now taken care of.
+'Tis the Season+:shock:
"Oh come all ye faithful." The voices sang in unison, some off key.
The sound of carolers outside my picture window makes my skin crawl; I've always hated caroling, since I was a young boy. My mother made me go once; I vomited dinner onto someone's front lawn. That earned me the beating of my life and a week in the basement. That's what happened when you made mother look like a fool.
Besides, Christmas was never one of my favorite holidays and being single and fifty; I have no need for all this fucking cheer. I just want to be left alone to my eggnog and rum. Who needs these freaks cluttering up my yard anyway? Certainly not me, and I think you'd agree with me on this one, they are a nuisance and it's time to eliminate the vermin. Maybe a sip or two from the ole family recipe nog will do the trick.
After whipping up a batch, I make my way to the front door, opening it and welcoming them all to have a glass. They drink it up with a thirst I have only seen one other time, and that was me, after that week in the basement. I smile at them as the drink, confident that soon, I will be rid of them. I walk back inside and watch from my window as the effects take hold, one by one.
The first one is Greta, the old bag from across the street, nosy little ninny that one is. Every time I try and bring back one of my "special friends" from downtown, all I can see is that old bitch peering from behind her venetian blinds.
Her eyes are glazing over fast and the excitement is building in my gut. Another couple of them hit the snow face first and I start to ready myself for the festivities about to commence.
As I hit the doorway naked, save for my boots, I give the chainsaw another pull and it screams into life, the chain making its rounds. I step over to the pile of carolers, humming Jingle Bells to myself, I notice Greta moving about. I give the saw some gas and plant it on her right thigh. It chews through her pants and right into the muscle and bone. She moans a little, the poison holding most functions at bay. Her leg lies askew from the rest of her body, blood coming in spurts with the slow, rhythmic beat of her heart.
The rush of dispatching all this trash makes me hard. So there I stand in all this snow, bloody and hard as a teenage boy with a Playboy, my boner bobbing up and down, as I dance around her legless body.
I pick up her leg and show it to her.
"See what happens to nosy bitches?" my words determined, I slam the leg down on her face, over and over until her breathing ceases.
The rest of the carolers were an after thought, as I alternated between my saw and a hammer, their heads never stood a chance. I was lucky enough to have light traffic through my neighborhood; it afforded me the time to do what I really needed to do.
I look out my picture window at the carolers propped up on my front lawn and they don't bother me so much now. And as far as everyone else is concerned, the last six percent of carolers are now taken care of.