When I was a boy of eight, there was a shed nearby where men went to meet and hang out. I’d often peek through a crack in the walls and watch as they played cards, drank, and told dirty stories using words like pussy, fuck, and shit interspersed throughout.
I’d use every new word I learned from them and people said I had a trash mouth, but I figured it meant I was grown up because I talked like a man. I emulated the men, copying the clothes they wore and carrying what they carried.
I kept a knife in my boot and a cigarette lighter in my pocket along with a pack of smokes. I stole a pack of Trojans from the drugstore so I could carry a condom like many of them did. I didn’t know what it was for, but knew it was somehow important to have one at all times.
One cold January day, snow fell and the temperature rose, making it warm enough for me to stand out back of the shed and look through the crack. I saw a single man inside.
I watched as he hesitantly picked up a long sharp knife from the table where the men usually sat. Stumbling, he took a few steps toward the one tied and hung by her feet. She screamed and struggled at the sight of a deranged-looking man with a knife in his hand.
“No, no, I can’t,” he cried out loud, yet continued to stumble closer with murder in his eyes, causing her to squeal in ear-piercing screams that stopped him only for an instant. He closed the gap and punctured her skin with the knife. Blood spouted from the gash. His eyes turned to pinpoints of ice. He stabbed again and again and again. Pleasure lit his face. His breath came in gasps, and I later learned that if I could have looked into his pants, I’d have seen that he came, and that those who wound their victims so many times for the thrill and pleasure of stabbing, found it was better than sex. I wasn’t old enough for sex, but I too got excited at the sight of blood.
Just then, the cops came and one decided to investigate the shed. He burst through the door.
Through the opening, I saw the man with his knife still in hand cutting pieces off her.
“What’s going on here?” the cop shouted.
“Just slaughtering my pig,” the demented-looking man said.
I thought it was wrong to kill anything, but the cop said it was okay to kill a pig like that, so it must be okay to kill anything, I thought. I started killing small things like ants and other bugs.
I moved up to the plentiful supply of mice and rats. I never got the killing thrill I saw the man experience when he buried his knife deep. I tried dogs next, and I got the dog that belonged to the man who slaughtered the pig as my first.
My conscience bothered me a bit, but the cop said it was not only legal, but also all right to kill. The years went by and I continued to slaughter cats and dogs. When I reached fourteen, I was ready for something bigger. I wanted to go on safari and hunt the biggest game, but I couldn’t do that, so I did the next best thing. I went to surrounding farms, killing and operating on cows and steers.
The newspapers claimed aliens had butchered the cattle. I figured there must be some clause in the farmers insurance saying that in case of war or alien abduction the company wouldn’t have to pay. So the authorities blamed my play on aliens and I was free to roam and kill all that I wanted.
But I just couldn’t get the thrill I sought from killing cows and sheep.
“That’s why I need you, you see,” I told the girl who hung by her heels with a plea in her eyes. “I’m going to open you up so I can watch your heart beat while you’re still alive, and after you die, I’ll cut off the top of your skull and make a brain stew.
I’ll leave clues so they’ll think the aliens slaughtered you too. I know it’ll fly, because your life insurance policy will be void under the same clause used that allows insurance companies not to pay farmers for their cows.”
That’s when I heard the voice inside my head. “Hold it right there! You’re giving us a bad name.” Two shining spider-like creatures appeared and cut down the girl. One of them quickly spun a web and stuck me to it.
“We heard what you said about brain stew and that made us hungry for some, so we’re going to suck out that part of your brain that requires you to kill
One creature stuck a sharp tube into my skull, and I could feel part of my brain liquefy as he sucked it out.
Both creatures disappeared and the web disintegrated. I no longer had the urge to kill and I even helped the girl get back home. I told her how much I regretted what I had done and would never do it again.
“So you see doctor, you should really let me out of this asylum, because I’ve lost the urge to kill. If you don’t, I’m afraid I’ll have to explore your brain to see why.”
The doctor couldn’t believe his eyes as I spun a spider web and pushed him into it. “Do you believe me now?” I pulled out a slim hollow tube sharpened at one end. “If you don’t, I’ll suck out that disbelieving part of your brain.”
“You’re free to go,” he said, stepping back. He dialed the phone. “Is this the captain of the guards?” he asked. “Joe is in my office and I want him released immediately.”
After he said that, I couldn’t help myself. I sucked his disbelief dry and saw fear light up his face as I walked out the door.