ALL THE JOYS OF BLOODY VENGEANCE
By
WR BULL (Part 2)
Before too long it was December and his uncle let him go. The days were moist and hot, the continuing existence of the people around him, their satisfaction with the shit life of wanting more shit made him disgusted to a point of madness and only the weed could bring him down. But when there was no money to buy weed he thought about murder and the release of it. They felt like cockroaches though. Like going into your kitchen at 3:00 in the morning and seeing a bunch of them huddled there on the floor over a crumb of bread, even though you are barefooted you want to kill, and kill and kill.
He did not carry a knife, instead, he carried a scalpel.
He finds himself one evening with a need to talk to her. So he goes to the house, which is not far away. He stands at the gate and calls, hello? Hello? An old woman, presumably the boyfriend's mother comes out and asks him who he wants, she is friendly,or at least not unfriendly. He says he wants to talk to Terry for a minute, she says, oh. Then who should I say is calling? He says tell her Neill. She goes in quickly without saying anything more. Terry comes out and comes to the gate, looking like she was preparing to tell him to fuck off. He says, Hi. She asks how are you? He lies, Fine. She says, Look, I need you to go. I'm sorry. He sees that there is no more love, he sees that she never loved because love doesn't go away like that, even after four years. He sees that he needs her so bad he will have to kill her dead.
He walks away. She calls to him, says something that he cannot hear, but its tone is apologetic. He says fuck you.
They kick down his door in the night like the badasses they imagined themselves to be. Big Black Boyfriend and his posse of one, Smaller Black Boy. Neill woke up without jumping, without his heart beating fast. Too many late night searches, too violent many attempts to get him to suck cock by imagined badasses. At the back of his mind as he turns the light on is the fact that he does not care. When he sees who it is and that they have brought a gun a part of him smiles.
(END OF PART 2)
By
WR BULL (Part 2)
Before too long it was December and his uncle let him go. The days were moist and hot, the continuing existence of the people around him, their satisfaction with the shit life of wanting more shit made him disgusted to a point of madness and only the weed could bring him down. But when there was no money to buy weed he thought about murder and the release of it. They felt like cockroaches though. Like going into your kitchen at 3:00 in the morning and seeing a bunch of them huddled there on the floor over a crumb of bread, even though you are barefooted you want to kill, and kill and kill.
He did not carry a knife, instead, he carried a scalpel.
He finds himself one evening with a need to talk to her. So he goes to the house, which is not far away. He stands at the gate and calls, hello? Hello? An old woman, presumably the boyfriend's mother comes out and asks him who he wants, she is friendly,or at least not unfriendly. He says he wants to talk to Terry for a minute, she says, oh. Then who should I say is calling? He says tell her Neill. She goes in quickly without saying anything more. Terry comes out and comes to the gate, looking like she was preparing to tell him to fuck off. He says, Hi. She asks how are you? He lies, Fine. She says, Look, I need you to go. I'm sorry. He sees that there is no more love, he sees that she never loved because love doesn't go away like that, even after four years. He sees that he needs her so bad he will have to kill her dead.
He walks away. She calls to him, says something that he cannot hear, but its tone is apologetic. He says fuck you.
They kick down his door in the night like the badasses they imagined themselves to be. Big Black Boyfriend and his posse of one, Smaller Black Boy. Neill woke up without jumping, without his heart beating fast. Too many late night searches, too violent many attempts to get him to suck cock by imagined badasses. At the back of his mind as he turns the light on is the fact that he does not care. When he sees who it is and that they have brought a gun a part of him smiles.
(END OF PART 2)
posted by Jute at 1:04 PM
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