𖣠 Do I even need to say it?
Oh, I don’t know… around.
Joined July 2023
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“So I said to her, ‘No, I am a messenger of death!’
You should have seen the look on her face.
Heh-Heh…
Anyway, she won’t be seeing age six.”
“All these clones comin’ outta the woodwork since I took my li’l holiday.
But boy am I too busy drownin’ in Colombian pussy. I just can’t bear to leave yet.”
I drop to my belly, the rifle’s grip feels orgasmic in my hands. I need this
Through the scope, his tanned skin is all lines and sweat.
I hold my breath an’ let the crosshairs kiss his oily temple. The trigger gives with a delicate click, and the round rips through brain.
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“How many times I gotta tell ya, hornhead—It’s Bullseye. Get it right an’ maybe I’ll let that family I’m watchin’ live.”
Who’m I kiddin’... That family I stuffed in the RV out in the Grand Canyon? Packed ‘em in like sardines. Shit, you could hear ‘em screamin’ for miles.
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The screams and crunching metal from the pileup fade into background noise, like a song I’ve heard too many times.
I tilt my head, eyeing the other with somethin’ cruel an’ curious, like a cat sizing up a half-dead mouse. “Well, damn, buttercup,” I drawl, syrupy with mockery. ~
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“You sound interested, buttercup.”
I’m thumbin’ something sharp in my pocket—a thumbtack. I flick it backward, right into the eye of some serial cyclist speedin’ by. He flips. Tires screech and metal crunches—a funny li’l pileup of cars behind us.
“Aaww shucks.”
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“You seem like you’re just hankerin’ on a surprise. I can do you a solid.
That what you want? A surprise?”
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“Last summer, I got bored so I snagged a low payin’ job.
This nobody—some sweaty accountant.
Guy had a fish tank, loved these li’l neon fishes. So I rigged it. Drained the water one night, replaced it some clear industrial solvent. ~
“Years ago, some years ago...
some dorm paid me to kill an old fuck in a nursin’ home. Alzheimer’s or some shit. Kept pissing himself and this lazy aid got tired of it.
Didn’t care about the cash so ol’ Bullseye snuck in, slipped fent’ in his pills an’ watched the life ~
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“Don’t act coy, sweetness, 'cause you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
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Crackin’ one of her beers and taking a nice slow swig, sights locked on the show ahead.
Old bitch dies confused. Gettin’ scooper up and squeezed by a golly green dumbass.
She don’t even get a scream out before my buddy snatches her up, crushing her frail little body ~
< frail already. She goes limp pretty quickly, after a few pops of squished bone. Zay discards her back into her garden seat, and then starts back across the roof to her friend.
She gives him a thumbs up and another big, stupid grin.
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It’s past midnight, the kinda late where the city’s hum is just a low growl—distant horns, a few sirens fadin’ into the dark. Avenue B’s quiet, save for the occasional drunk stumblin’ home.
The air’s cool, oppressive with that gritty New York smell: asphalt, garbage, >
An insidious grin stretches across my face. Fuck yeah.
“Some old bitch up on a garden rooftop around Avenue B. Mrs. Han. Bet she’d love a real tight hug.”
I sling a jacket over my shoulders, already movin’ to the door. “C’mon.”
“Sweetheart, you think I been sittin’ on my ass for 18 years?
I’ve killed a small town of Amish, invited a whole block to a make-a-wish kid’s birthday just to blow them up, tracked down an Eskimo 15 fuckin’ miles just for him to deepthroat some icicles. >
I knock the drink over— casual-like. Nothin’ that screams ‘incoming.’
All I need is a flinch. Some sorta reaction.
That’s all I need. My boot’s already movin’. I kick the barstool leg enough to jolt her seat. Throw off her balance. Disrupts her grip.
At the same time, >
"But if it comes to losin' shit that don't grow back," burning star gaze drags down his torso and right back up.
"Threaten me again and you'll be livin' without your fuckin' dick."
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YAWN.
“What’re you tryna convince me to look over my shoulder?
You come here lookin’ for a resolution to their problems—or did you wanna do somethin’ about me?”
