My favorite pastime was shooting sparrows with the slug-gun my father gave me on my tenth birthday. I was born sharp shooter. If someone had kept count my name surely would be included in the Guinness Book of World Records for shooting all those chirpy fellas. I also loved to catch lizards and later cut-off their tails. The dance of death the tail of the dying lizard performed filled me with boundless joy. I plucked every flower that had the impertinence to grow in the lawn of my home. My father who was an enthusiastic gardener was ever vexed at the villain that prowled our lawn at night. Often spending sleepless nights on the look-out for the sadist but he was never able to catch him. I convinced my father that our dog Naughty was the culprit. The desecration of the lawn, though, continued unabated even after our dog died. My parents were vexed even-more and I was overjoyed only by looking at the puzzled look on their faces. In order to continue the farce a little more I convinced them that our neighbor ruddy-cheeked Aunt Nancy’s cat was responsible for the mess. To lend validity to my falsehood I told my parents that I on countless occasions had seen the cat over-run the lawn at night, “Hunting ratsperhaps!” I added. Simple and honest people, my parents, believed every falsehood I fed. To them was them was as simple as the poison I fed Naughty with the biscuits. A few weeks later when they heard the news that the cat was found hanging to a nearby tree my parents were shocked. They were now convinced that a madman haunted the neighborhood. They strictly instructed me to keep in-doors after dark. This prank of mine cost me my freedom but I was really elated seeing tears rolling down Aunt Nancy’s ruddy cheeks. One day as usual I poked holes in the lawn with an iron rod in search for a mouse, a snail or anything I could kill suddenly a snake leapt out of one of the holes and before I could react, bite me. Luckily the snake was not poisonous but after this incident I never meddled with the animals anymore.
Halloween was my favorite time of the year even better than Christmas. I scared the shit out of all the neighborhood kids and some old people, as well. The kids were so afraid of me that they dare not come to our door. Every year my parents bought bags of candy but no one came trick or treating and I had all the candy in the world just for me and me alone to eat.
“Wake up dear,” my mother shouted from the kitchen downstairs. “Remember, its Sunday, the breakfast is all-ready and we have to go to the church,” she continued. “Yippee,” I jumped out of my bed. I loved going to the church. I didn’t really know why? I liked bullying the smaller kids, especially Dave, the nigger. I targeted him because he out of fear did never even dare dream of complaining about me to her mother. I pinched him, shoved him and even kicked him sometimes as his mother solemnly performed the service. Often out of nowhere there was a solitary cry disturbing the peaceful atmosphere of the church. Often the priest reprimanded Dave’s mother and asked her to teach her kid some church manners. “Oh! Never Emmanuel,” my mother would boast after the service, ”Emmanuel is too well behaved to do something like that.” “But Dave says he put snails in his pocket,” Dave’s mother would complain. “Dear, my son is an angel. You must teach Dave manners. Lying at his age is bad, especially a sin, mind you lying in the church a grave, grave sin,” my mother would then give Dave’s mother a lecture on good behavior and morality quoting verses from the Bible.
Attending school, though, was an entirely different proposition. My teachers assured my parents that I was exceptionally intelligent but my grades were hopeless so my parents requested red-cheeked Aunt Nancy to give me tuition. Every evening she gave me lessons for two hours. Her red cheeks really fascinated me. I often had wet dreams about red blood oozing from them. I really wanted to bite them off. She was too strong for me to handle but she had a three months old daughter that I decided to hurt instead.
The only problem was that Aunt Nancy never let her out of sight even for a single moment, except for rare occasions as when she was sleeping for instance. After much thought, I came up with an ingenious idea. Aunt Nancy relished lemonade and she always treated me with lemonade as she taught me. I stole a bottle of some cathartic from the medicine cabinet in my parent’s bathroom and as soon as she left the room to steal a quick glance at her sleeping infant I emptied the contents of the bottle into the jug of lemonade. I did not take a sip that day feigning cough and she drank the whole jug by herself. I waited patiently for the drug to take effect and soon it did as I felt a hint of unease in her face, she excused herself and hurried to the bathroom. Seizing my chance I crept into the next room where the infant was sleeping and suffocated her with the pillow. Returned to the lounge and immersed myself in my lessons. According to her routine Aunt Nancy, before she commenced teaching me went to the room to check her daughter and then a shout of grief pierced the whole neighborhood. I was overjoyed that I had succeeded I secretly patted myself. Aunt Nancy ran off with the listless infant to the nearby house of Doctor Hamilton. The doctor could not do anything to help, as I had done my job well and pronounced the infant dead. I overheard my parents talk about the tragedy that some disease known as SDS was the cause of her death though I knew better.
Ever since I was fifteen I carried an unlicensed gun as it gave me extra confidence and a supreme sense of masculinity. I completed the persona of a macho man by smoking weed and drinking alcohol that I forced Dave to buy from the local bootlegger and the drug dealer. I used Dave for the simple reason that if something went wrong the police would arrest Dave and not me. On his part Dave complied because I promised not to bully him at the school if he performed this task for me. I also used his car whenever I wished.
During my teens Marie was my girlfriend at the high school. Marie was Doctor Hamilton’s bubbly daughter whom I sodomized the day in primary school. She was as afraid of me as Dave, the nigger, even more. Marie was growing into a very pretty teenager with long blonde hair, wide doe like eyes and a curvaceous body with large boobs and a butt that was the envy of every girl at school. One day as she left the class to go to the lavatory I followed her and forcibly made love to her at gun point. I hated using condoms. I especially enjoyed the occasions when she had her menstrual period. I felt bouts of ecstasy when blood dripped between her legs and put my hanky into her mouth because she shrieked with pain as I penetrated her. On the other days it was just a drab affair though for reasons not known to me she liked. After three months she told me one day that she was pregnant. “Well?” “I don’t wanna abort my baby,” she screamed in my face. ”Bitch, I live with my parentsI can’t afford a scandal or a child,” I replied in a matter of fact manner. ”You bastard, must have thought about that when you raped me repeatedly,” she choked with emotions tears welling in her eyes. “Okay! Okay! Don’t you create a scene here honey,” I tried to calm her before she took any drastic step. “All will be fine. We will get married. We will have the baby, hon,” I was lying. “Emmanuel, bastard I give you one day to sort out this mess you have got me into. If not I am going to tell everyone in this damn town,” she meant every word of what she said. I had a problem at my hands and no time to plan.
“Today is a very sad day for our school, you know,” the principal spoke in his horse voice.” Last evening, you know, Miss Marie Cartwright a very promising student, you know, was killed in a car accident, you know. The car involved in the accident was found a couple of blocks from her home, you know. It saddens me no extent to inform you that it belongs to, you know, another student of the school. Dave White. Dave has been arrested by the police and, you know charged with, you know, with manslaughter.” Yeah! Yeah!” no one else but I knew.
I was the prime witness at Dave’s trial. I made up such a convincing story painting Dave a drunkard and a drug addict that the all-white prejudiced jury unanimously held Dave guilty. Dave was sentenced to life imprison and sent to some juvenile correctional facility. I couldn’t help laughing at our perverted criminal justice system that convicted an innocent just because he happened to be a nigger.
“We have the best criminal justice system in the world,” the professor lectured. “because of the advancements in technology, no criminal gets away without receiving his deserved punishment and no innocent , I emphasize, no innocent is sentenced,” he continued. As he delivered his last sentence I was not able to suppress myself and laughed satirically. “Mister Emmanuel, right?” the professor pointed me out. “Would you please stand up and enlighten the rest of us what’s so funny? Well go on please,” the professor was adamant. “Nothing important sir, just remembered something,” I replied and sat down,
Now I am twenty-five years old and studying criminal law at a university upstate. I still drink, do drugs and always carry a gun. I am a loner and spend most of the time in my apartment. My apartment, my half of it at least gives the look of a temple. The walls are painted with swastikas and under a special poster of Adolf Hitler that I stole from a garage sale I have perfumed candles lit under it day or night in reverence to god Hitler.
Carl is my room-mate. He is the son of a landowner from Alabama. Carl Vanderbilt III. His half of the apartment is completely differently decorated with posters of some naked and others of bikini-clad busty women. I hate his maddening southern accent and his easy going lifestyle. He snores when he asleep and on countless occasions I have controlled barely controlled my urge to suffocate him. Carl is convinced that I am gay. In fact, far from it, if I had the power I would exterminate every gay from this earth. I would, like my god, put every gay, woman, Jew and of course every nigger in the gas-chambers, and then from a glass window watch them die. I am sure that Carl would be happy to aid me as far as the niggers are concerned, at least.
Carl is always running after girls all over the campus. He is obsessed with the blondes. I hate nothing more in this world then a whore with blonde hair. The truth of the matter is that I hate the whole of the womankind. To me every cunt is a slut to be used and disposed-off like the toilet paper down the drain. To me they are all the same. The only meaningful thought that comes to my mind on seeing a pretty specimen of that race is to rape her, then strangle her and fling her naked body from the top of a tall building so that it dangles on the high voltage wires for every sight to feast.
I still enjoy going to the church every Sunday. After all those years being in the oblivion now I know why. It is the crucified figure of Jesus that lures me there. I often dream of being one of the Roman soldiers who nailed him to the cross. The rest of the church going community especially the wrinkled hags admire me a lot for being so young and so religious. Avery well behaved young man ever ready to act the part of a Good Samaritan. All of them are oblivious that this façade helps me accomplish much that I could not otherwise. The bouts of drinking, weed smoking and visiting the red light district frequently. I beat the hell out of most of the prostitutes I am with. Ha! Ha! Ha!
My parents are old now. I seldom visit them because besides beauty the next thing I cannot stand is frailty that accompanies old age. I don’t visit them because I am afraid that in my throes of ecstasy I might kill them. My mother unable to operate a computer writes letters to me even though she knows that I will never reply back. Because of her penchant to turn anything she writes into a piece of literature, I have a pretty good deal about whatever transpires back home from some of her letters that I read when I had nothing better to do. She informed me that Dave killed an inmate when he was shifted from the juvenile correctional facility to the regular jail. Now he is on the death row awaiting his execution. Doctor Hamilton, the father of Marie, committed suicide this summer. Aunt Nancy is now the principal of the local primary school. She also has a bubbly daughter in the final year of high school. Plus a lot of other shit that neither I nor you are interested in. In the only letter I wrote to her in years, I asked her to tell Aunt Nancy to send her daughter to the same institution I am studying at and tell her that I will take real good care of her.
On the Christmas Eve, I was one the first ones to enter the church. I took my usual seat next to the same hag I have been sitting with for over three years now. When the service was at its prime and all the people were fully immersed in it I silently left and closed the church door behind me. Hurriedly fetched the iron chains from my car and padlocked the main entrance. After that I locked the only other exit. Then I drove a safe distance away from the church and with the mobile detonated the powerful improvised explosive device. Within a matter of seconds the red tongued flames fanned by the wind that blows incessantly in these parts gobbled the entire church, primarily a wooden structure, like a glutton relishing desert.
In the flames I could clearly make out silhouettes dancing with hand held together as Dave with the ears of an elf and the hooves of a goat played the flute. All the dancing figures had crowns of thorns on their heads with blood dripping from their foreheads. Marie led the dancing party followed by the DocI forget his name, Doc Hamilton and Aunt Nancy and at last my mother. Round and round they went and made me dizzy. By the end a huge serpent leapt towards me making me duck instinctively. I kept on watching the spectacle till I got bored and left for my apartment. All along the way back to my apartment there were police cars and the ambulances with sirens blaring at maximum volume. These vehicles were transporting the living and the dead. On reaching my apartment I lighted the special candle I had bought to light in the altar to my deity if I succeeded in my plan. Put out the light and slept like a baby.
Early the next morning Carl woke me up and narrated the tragedy of the last night. “Lucky bastard.weren’t you supposed to be there?” he questioned. “Yes,” I replied. “I had to go out of town on an errand,” I added quickly. The newspapers dubbed the church blast as the tragedy of the century. According to the official estimates sixty people including ten children lost their lives in the church blast. Over a hundred sustained serious injuries and about thirty of them were still in critical condition. The news made headlines all over the country. Special supplements were printed. The president addressed the nation on television vowing to catch the terrorists as soon as possible. The Christmas day was declared a day of national mourning.
About three weeks later as I was crossing the road I bumped against the old hag that always sat next to me in the church. For a moment we were both stunned she tried to take hold and was ready to call a police officer standing nearby, I ran as fast as I could to my apartment. I locked the door and took out my gun. Surely, I was caught and soon the police would come looking for me. I put my belongings in a bag and was ready to leave when there was an ominous knock at the door. “F.B.I. Open the door,” a man spoke in an authoritative manner. With the gun in my hand I opened the door just then a bullet pierced my heart
My whole body jerked, every sinew tensed like a drowning man desperately gasped for air. The darkness that enveloped me was gradually receding and the light at the end of the tunnel grew brighter. As I opened my eyes I was lying in my bed in the nursery. The smell of fresh blossoming lavender, the first of the season, filled my room. Naughty with his paws on the window-sill looked at me lovingly and barked as soon as I opened my eyes. ”Water,” I squeaked. “Jesus,” I heard my mother’s voice. ”All praise to the Lord,” she cried as she kissed me. “We thought we had lost you, Jesus.” Doctor Hamilton was bent over me checking my heart-beat with his stethoscope. Aunt Nancy was also present in the room with her infant daughter in her arms. Just then my father entered with a gift wrapped box in his hands. He was surprised to see Doctor Hamilton and Aunt Nancy. “What’s the matter?” he blurted, “Nothing, all’s well. Emmanuel just had a fall,” mom replied. “My leg hurts,” I complained. “You be a brave boy now,” doctor Hamilton asked my father to follow him as he left the nursery. “I better get going as well, it’s time to feed my cat,” Aunt Nancy with the infant firmly clutched to her heart excused herself. “Mom” I spoke in a feeble voice. “Yes honey” she handed me the glass of water. ”Can I sleep in your lap?” I asked. “Now what kind of a question is that, dear,” she replied. “Don’t move,” she sat on my bed and I put my head in her lap. I saw the gift wrapped box near the door. “Mom, tell dad I don’t want the gun,” I closed my eyes. ”Shoo! Sure honey, whatever you say.” A moment later I said “No mom, say nothing to him. I wanna keep the gun. In fact, I don’t want any other present, ever,” my eyes were wide open with a Satanic glare in them and I had a menacing smile on my face.