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I can think of three hundred and twenty seven ways to kill someone. It ranges from the outlandish, releasing the victim into a stampeding herd, to the more simplistic, a simply understated shooting with a Glock 17c pistol. It’s a handheld, semi-automatic, 9mm gun. It’s a pretty weapon.
Sure a gun can be beautiful, but it doesn’t make the decision clear-cut. As I said I can muster up an extra three hundred and twenty six ways. Some of my ideas I have used, however; but this isn’t about those killings. Those have been crossed off my list, and I’m looking for one that is different, a little more peculiar. This is about a new, special one. An interesting person and an interesting case. Not just any method will work; the perfect one must be picked.
A premeditated killing is one of the hardest things, only for the brave and fearless of killers. Those who kill in the moment didn’t have the guts to plan out a killing. Those who kill out of passion don’t understand the true art of killing. Killing in passion is somewhat applaudable; killing with a plan is heroic.
Once I pick my method, I then have to pick a victim. There is an endless choice of people in the world. In each street, town, state, thousands upon thousands of beating hearts and blood-filled veins. Veins waiting to be burst open, to spray a beautiful picture that cannot be replicated through any other medium. The only problem with killing someone is if you have no one to kill. I can’t really think of a more unfortunate situation than someone who is ready to kill but has no way to express it. Luckily, I never have trouble finding victims. This time however, the victim found me in a way.
“What a lovely morning. How are we today?”
“Eh, the same as always. I’m too hot, my back is stiff, and this chair never did break in. I knew it wouldn’t but no one would believe me.”
“Wait, who are you? Where’s Rita?”
“Rita went away on vacation. I’m temping in her place. Ah, the window was stuck. There you go; a nice breeze should help cool you down. Maybe lay down on the bed for a while? It’s certainly more broken in than the chair.”
“I don’t want a broken in bed; I wanted a nice armchair, not one of these stiff things. And I don’t want to lie down, I’ve spent most of early morning getting up, you hear? Why’d Rita go? No, no don’t you come near me. I want Rita, you leave me here. I’ll wait for her to come back, now go away!”
See, there is a reason why I have chosen this man, this time. I normally choose someone at random, enjoying the surprise and the fear. And the chase, there is nothing like the adrenaline of running and knowing if your caught it’s all over. This time, it’s not just about the game. It’s about the man. The elderly, crippled, and spoiled old man.
I just can’t take seeing him every day. Walking into that room filled with the stench of sterile hospital and decaying elderly. The suffocating air in the room doesn’t lend to clear thinking. It can irrationally play with my mind, causing thoughts that don’t belong there. Thoughts like pity and remorse for the individual stuck in the hell hole that the old age home passes off as a room. I would be doing everyone a favor, really. I don’t think I’ve ever picked a victim so generously. I think I could win a Good Samaritan award, maybe.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
“It’s the nurse from this morning, Molly.”
“Why are you back here? Have you brought Rita with you?”
“No sir, she has not returned from vacation since the last time we spoke. Now, I am here to take care of you. Why are you still in that chair? I thought we agreed you would lie down?”
“No you rambled on and I didn’t listen to what you had to say. I don’t listen to people I don’t like.”
“Okay, how about I help you over to the bed?”
“No! No! You go away!”
“Now let’s just stay calm, there’s no need to get excited.”
“Stop it! Help, please someone help me.”
“Now don’t you keep hollering and throwing things, that is no way to treat someone who’s trying to help you.”
“You come any closer and you’ll wish you hadn’t, you see?”
“Come on, were just going to go for a walk, get you out of this stuffy old attic.”
“Now sir, keep your hands to yourself. You’d be best to stop that now.”
Yes, there could be no other choice but him, that stupid revolting man. Spending moment after moment with him is unbearable. I want to tear my hair out of my head at the sheer stupidity of him. He’s not just an old man he’s an imbecile, losing his mind and control. I can’t stand it, if I have to pick up after him one more time I’ll blow my brains out right after his. Although I wouldn’t, to tell the truth. It would take away all the fun, as I wouldn’t get to see the chaos and the drama. And the blood.
“Don’t you bring that near me, I don’t need it. I’m not some animal in a zoo, I’m a person damn it!”
“There, there, you’ll feel all better in a moment, just hold very still.”
“Ouch, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop. “
“Shh… there, there all better. Now just lie down and relax.”
“I don’t need to be… an animal…I feel.”
Now that I have my victim I need to choose a method. Search through the different methods stored in my mind. One that has been tucked away for years would be fun. Yes, an old plan does always make me feel nostalgic. A gun would be pretty, but perhaps too trite and trivial. An interesting choice would be burning. A hot fire that would melt the flesh of the man and make him feel for the first time in years. Awaken his senses, and make him more alive than he has ever been.
“Okay, just stay there, I’ll be back in an hour or two. You’ll most definitely be much more calm then sir.”
“Hi you must be Molly. I’m Rita.”
Yes, there’s nothing like killing someone, in any matter. Especially, in the manner of number fifty four on my list.
“No, No, N-.”