As I ponder over the plot populated by purveyors of improper fruits I decide that flipping a coin is the best option. Flipping a coin always helps when making a difficult decision. The coin comes up heads, a sign that today is the day I become a true psychopath.
As I peer down from the ledge upon which I stand, I see a somewhat freckled, sunburnt kid that, in all probability, is the son of someone. Someone I wish not to know, for a true psychopath I am not. I still feel for the victims families. A little bit. On cloudy days. At 3pm until four.
Just the other day there were questions posed on how I’ve amassed more killings then anyone else in the Psycho society. I replied that I prefer not too get my hands dirty and that many of the accidents are preordained in my city.
“Have you actually ever killed anyone with your own hands? Or with a gun, Mr Joe53?” the chairman asked me in the society chatroom. After replying that I had not, the rest of the psychopaths did not consider it sissy to reply with many continuous “lol”s partnered with smiley yellow laughing faces. A motherfucker found it funny to send “lmao”, but I just felt sorry for his ass.
I find myself, in between many hawkers of special fruits. Fruits found only in the country of which I cannot tell you for if anyone found out about the murder I am about to commit I will surely be caught and executed on the spot.
A marketer screams at me, “Hey motherfucker! You want some oranges motherfucker!” I scream at him “No, I do not want a blue motherfucking orange, motherfucker!”
I really hate the way English is abused in this country. Apparently, the president of this country is a big fan of Chris Rock and subsequently all English teaching was used in conjunction with tapes of his shows.
I spot the boy examining apples. Uncanny. By all appearances he’s a normal boy, but hell he looks secretive. Like he knows something I don’t. It’s almost like he’s spent many sleepless nights singing suicidal soliloquies to lonely werewolves on the backyard porch.
But I doubt it. Well it doesn’t matter. He’ll die soon anyway.
Columns by OricXe