I have made you watch me. I have scoured the internet for you and I have brought you here to watch me. There is now no escape. You are compelled and you can not stop yourself from watching me.
I am now so powerful that dozens and dozens of you people are now glued to my words. I could type a rude word and you would still be there.
See – I still have you.
Just know that I watch you too because I know where all of you live.
My mother did not smack my bare bottom for nothing.
Ten fun things to say when you are trapped in a lift (translation: elevator) with someone cute. This is especially fun when it is you who has cut the power.
- (bodly) I am feeling rather peckish – may I lick your eyeball?
- (coyly) You will not mind – I need to sharpen my butcher’s knife.
- (savagely) There is not really enough air in here for both of us.
- (meaninglessly) Of course I did not kill her. Well, not intentionally.
- (angrily) Are the the girl who cut in front of me at the lights?
- (softly) Knives, knives, knives, knives, knives, knives, knives …
- (spitefully) You people do not deserve to live after what you did.
- (menacingly) Out of the two of us who do you think I should kill?
- (piously) Her liver did not taste as nice after I had been to church.
- (lovingly) You know, if I were you I would starts screaming now.
I find myself musing gently as to whether there is a club where psychopaths can go, to meet others of their ilk. Maybe to have a drink, unwind, discuss the day and all of that.
Or maybe there is an open forum online where serial killers can chat and exchange tips.
The easiest way to remove blood for example. Which brand of detergent to use and the best cycle on the washing machine – that sort of thing.
It would be nice if people could be more accommodating towards psychokillers. Everybody needs love after all. Surely one bloody club is not too much to ask for!
Had a jolly old time this evening walking behind a young woman at dusk along a quiet road whistling Psycho Killer.
You remember – the song from the nineteen seventies by Talking Heads:
Qu’est-ce que c’est
Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away.
Well, obviously she had never heard of it because she did not turn around to look. Except for once – right at the end, just before the road went into the darkest, loneliest place where the only company is trees and undergrowth.
But by then it was too late.
I had already turned off along a side road.
I had seen her get her mobile phone out. Modern technology is such a bane.
Thanks to all beings up, down and in the pages of these blogs that I am alive and well. I got bitten by a bus. I would have said hit by a bus if it felt like that – but it was more like a bite. I cannot explain now – I have toilet to attend to. Mother was very particular about this and for a very good reason, which I will explain later.
Allow me to state, before I begin, that despite the name of my blog – I am no killer.
Oh sure, there is the matter of one or two bugs that I have squashed. But there are billions of such creatures – who is going to miss one or two, or even several of those?