No! This ends tonight. Too long I’ve put up with
the ridicule and persecution from my so called “friends.” The shallow, fake, pretentious bastards. I have found
them no longer worthy of the lives that possess them. Tonight I shall free them of this mortal coil…sweet revenge.
I walked out my back door toward the tool shed. I took
my time. It was only 11:00 p.m., I had all night. The moon was full and cast marvelous dancing shadows. For a while I danced
along with them. A sort of victory dance, though the battle had yet to begin.
I finally reached the shed. The pentagram I had spray
painted on the door was still there. Eight years ago, I was twelve then, I had a habit of tagging things. I always used a
pentagram. Needless to say, I grew out of it and had since thought it childish. For some reason, though, tonight it just sort
I swung the doors of the tool shed open. I stepped in
for only a moment and reemerged with one of my favorite Christmas gifts. Good 'ole ma, got me exactly what I wanted last year…garden
shears. She even got me the good kind. You know, the ones that look like they came straight out of The Burning.
“These’ll definitely do,” I said,
unable to hold back my laughter.
I was off, fence hopping to my first victim’s
house. His name, Dex. Dex and I became friends because we lived so close to each other. To tell the truth I never knew why
we stayed friends. He was that popular jock type. The kind that everyone hangs out with and fantasizes about, but no one really
likes. To put it bluntly, Dex is an asshole, a pretty asshole, but an asshole none-the-less.
Oh well, no more worries after tonight. I was only three
houses away. Through the Hamilton’s yard, two more. Dodging sprinklers through the Perkins’ back yard. One more
to go. Just a quick sprint through Ms. Moon’s garden and I was home free.
Uh, the sight of Dex’s rather lavish house made
me sick. Yes, he’s quite rich. I think that’s why Dex is such an asshole. He can afford to be one.
His bedroom light was still on. Good. A little struggle
ought to make things a bit more interesting. Not to mention make his demise all the sweeter. To the back door I went.
I slowly turned the brass door knob. Locked! It’s all good, though. Dex always kept one of his basement windows open.
One thing, probably the only thing, that Dex and I shared
were our stoner habits. I always leave a window open, no matter what. Not very many people know this. Shoot, not very many
people knew we smoked weed. In fact, Dex and I are the only ones who know we smoke weed everyday, without fail. It was the
only real secret ever kept between us. Anyway, he has a “stoner room” and that window always stays open.
I kicked in the screen and crawled, feet first, into
Dex’s domain. The shag carpet freaked me out a little when my eyes finally adjusted. I walked straight to the door that
led to the main part of the basement. As I passed the psychedelic tie-dye mural painted on the left wall, I wondered how few
knew Dex smoked weed.
I opened the door and went straight to the stairs, passing
only the basement bathroom. A ten step ascend followed. One, two, there was a creak in stair three…nothing to get excited
about. Five, six, almost there. Ten!
I was in the kitchen now. Tempting, but I already had
my weapon. I went left through the archway that led to the living room. The stairs leading up were on my left. I rounded the
banister and creeped my way to the top. I’m sure he still has no clue. The excitement became very real as I walked down
the upstairs hallway. I was heading towards his room, directly ahead of me. I could see him sitting at his desk with what
looked like a quarter of some fine home-grown. Rolling joints I’m sure…he wouldn’t see it coming.
I was in his doorway. My breathing got heavier as my
heart beat rose. Still too quiet for him to notice. I slinked toward him with the shears held high above my head. The excitement
was now unbearable and all I could think was, “DON’T LOOK BEHIND YOU!”
I was just about there when I hit a loose board. The
sound made my presence known, I panicked and ran right for him. I went for the kill, but he rolled out of his seat and it
caught the table instead. I didn’t even have time to pull the shears free, Dex already had me on the ground. He had
me by the throat.
“You crazy fuck,” he screamed, “you
want to kill me…well, an eye for an eye.”
He started slamming my head into his polished wooden
floor, so I got cheap. I lifted my knee and dropped his bitch ass.
While he was doubled over, I grabbed the shears. I rolled
him on his back. Now, he was crying. He looked me right in my eyes and said, “How could you?”
“How could I!?!” I laughed. “Dex,
you won the battle, but the war is mine.”
With that I raised the shears and planted them deep
in the base of Dex’s neck. As Dex choked and his blood spilled, all I could do was laugh. His suffering then became
pointless. I ended it by opening the shears and detaching his head completely from the rest of his body. It didn’t help
stop the blood spill, but at least he wasn’t flopping like a fish out of water anymore.
I dropped the shears near the body and carried Dex’s
head to his desk. I used his head to cover the shear marks, not that it mattered. His bag of marijuana was virtually untouched,
save the one joint he managed to already have rolled. I put the near full bag in my pocket, along with his rolling papers,
and stuck the joint in Dex’s mouth.
“To friends,” was all I said as I lit it