"Listen," I say, irritation, hot and choking, building in my chest, "I cannot make this more clear: you make me want to choke small animals."
This beatuiful woman across from me, peasant-drunk, giggles and slumps, her breasts almost come out of her silk dress, something that must be by Roberto Angelico, I must have paid for this, I wonder how much, but I do not care enough to ask. "Darling, you are far too rigid." Her voice is cultured, reminds me of someone from the past, it has a European cast to it.
"Fuck you," I snap, and she says something cute, like, 'later tonight, maybe you will', but we both know I will, there is no doubt in this, the moon is blood red somewhere over the sands of the middle east, and some Bedouins must sense that I am loose, the Beast is loose and raging amongst the people, and songs of tribes drift up against the crimson moon to no avail, I will satiate my lust and rage on this poor, pitiful bitch sitting here across from me. Some might call me shallow, some might call me evil, some might love me, but none know me except the dead, none but the dead know my true smile. This realization hacks its way into my chest, and I slump, exhausted and agonized, into my chair. I consider taking the Vyvanse that is in my pocket to perk me up, but I am sick of false happiness, even the prospect of dropping some X later does little to cheer me, as I know the comedown will result in bloodsplatters. Remember the motto, I think savagely, acidly. Cumsplatter or bloodsplatter, either way I am taking that.
"Babe," she says, grabbing my hand, and I want to sever her own hand at that instant, see the death of two colliding planets, and shoot a homeless man in the face, all at the same time; I am an adventurous soul. "Babe, look. We need to move forward."
"We will move forward," I say rigidly.
"I'm serious," she whines. "Let's go on a cruise. You have a boat."
I agree, not listening anymore, I think only of stabbing her with my sharpened anchor and dropping her over the side of my yacht, watching her sink. Watch her sink in agony and terror, and she will finally understand me.
"Can you swim well?" I ask her suddenly, cutting off her drunken rambling.
"Almost drowned in her pussy so I swam to her butt," she says, looking at me boldly, and then she winks. Her use of these lyrics almost makes me vomit, my vision swims with rage.
"I find your feedback to be worse than useless," I tell her through gritted teeth.