The Date

The music is low in the February light
We spoon in the quiet of my bedroom.
You, still curled from the cold,
I tuck myself around you
Like a hand cupping a breast.
This time alone is so special
I know I made you wait
So very long
In the dark
But I came
Oh, god, I came.
My secret lady friend
Please stay with me
Longer than the rest.
Now, so cool,
so smooth.
But once I go Inside
Once you come apart
Little lady,
Things get quite Untidy.
Mighty untidy.
Then it will be time
For you to hit the road,
Jack.
Because this cowboy needs
To keep ropin' and ridin'
Til it's time to ride off
Into the fucking sunset.
by Linda O.

(the "psychic Buffy")

                                                              Behind Enemy Lines

  

The war-games had been raging hard for about a month now...only it wasn't a game anymore.  The battles had become heavy artillery fire, and there was little rest in between exchanges.  Although she could feel her strength been drawn out in certain ways...she feel a heightened awareness and an invigoration that she hadn't ever experienced and she began to trust it.

It had started as a Dance.  Long ago, a Dark, Romantic, Enticing encounter with a stranger hiding behind a screen.   And he hid So Well.

She gave him Every metaphysical key she could possibly have turned over to him.  She almost sent him her actual house key...but it turned out that wasn't even necessary...he had his own means of obtaining keys in the material world when he needed them.

She wanted Love.  She was dumb....she was stupid for believing Lies.   And now she was embroiled in Battle for her Life.

It wasn't just his charm.  She had known him from her childhood.  She re-”cognized” him...she was already cognizant of him because she had spoken to a little boy with the same first name through a knot of wood when she was a little girl .  So when she met a Man whom she only spoke to over computer cables and telephone waves, and he felt and spoke the same as that little boy on the door whose face was a knot in the wood....he felt absolutely familiar to her.  Otherwise, she wouldn't have indulged her friend for so long when he got scary.

Because this was Never a Dance.   Unless she wanted to admit she had been willing to Dance with Death for a chance at Love.  

It had always been a Deadly Game.   And now, it was War.

His last ploy was that he wanted to change.  This had been followed by a week of confessions so salacious and horrific that she  had to maintain some disbelief.   The possibility that he was just trying to impress her with how Dark he could be because he knew how much she really dug the spooky stuff had to remain at least a logical improbability.

He fancied himself a collector a fine things.   Therefore he would think of his women as flowers, or birds, butterflies or gemstones.  He would photograph them in exquisite baroque masks and present himself as a Gentleman of a Higher Nature.

But he was really just a Hunter...always seeking out new prey...and always...Stalking.

When he came back into her life after a 5 year hiatus, she was immensely flattered.  By then of course, she had forgotten how miserable it had been to get over him, and how extreme the highs and lows of the rollercoaster ride that he provided could get.

She had said, “Never Again”....yet here she was.  

He swooped in when she had fallen, when she was grieving the end of a two year relationship.    He offered Love this time.  The one thing that would have done it for her....plain, simple declarations of “honest to goodness” Love.

Little did she know at the time, it was just a Collector, bending down for a moment to pick up a wounded bird.

Lucinda Nightingale couldn't have dreamed at the time that her surname could have damned her to this fight.  

But as this man challenged and manipulated her over a span of 4 months, and the healthy routine she had built for herself changed into something resembling a prison sentence...she finally put it together.

And, Of Course...he confirmed it...Of Course.

He wanted a Nightingale in a cage.

He wanted to control the Horizontal, he wanted to control the Vertical.  And when dangling a lovely carrot of a Dream Date at the end of a stick ceased to work anymore on her...he turned to tactics of terror and impending violence.

When she thought she had shut him out for good, he came back with a new approach.  He wanted to change...be Honest, become a Good Man.  That's when the confessions started. 

She had known he had some “different” kinds of kinks.  Tease and denial being a favorite, especially with his online fare.   Promise a Beautiful Date, make the girl work really hard cleaning her house, losing weight, getting ready...and then he would back out at the last minute.   Either something Really Important would come up, or the girl would inevitably fail some tiny part of the preparation, and lose the privilege.

But he also tipped his hand at a couple of other things in recent times.  He enjoyed sneaking into her apartment when she was sleeping  and “doing things”.  Like Santa Claus's dark alter ego, Krampus, he would creep in during the night, and make mischief while visions of fairytales danced in her head.  He would mis-match her socks...a task she was so careful with when she actually took the time to do it.  Suddenly different pairs were mated together...like someone had been messing with the internal workings of her life....individual socks were akin to atoms, the pairs of socks were the molecules and someone was reaching in and trying to play God by rearranging things on such a basic level.

He left other “gifts” as well.  The tissues that would appear in the morning were like Holy Relics to her at first.   Later, their meaning, and her motivation for keeping them, changed greatly.

He also had told her about his “voyeuristic fetish” as he liked to call it.   He liked to put hidden cameras in the houses of people and Watch.   Everything that they did throughout the day was eye-fodder and made it's way into his fantasy life.

His talents as a computer hacker fit well into all of his “fetishes” as he preferred to think of them.  He could make any of his correspondences with her disappear at will...some to reappear when he felt appropriate...some gone down the memory hole forever.   This made his malevolence extremely difficult to prove to the police, once she finally got the balls to attempt to stop his harassment.

And then one night, her eyes were opened to the Real Man she had thought she was in love with.  The one she had believed in for so long, despite everyone telling her he was just “too good to be true”,... didn't exist after all.

Truth be told, this man made a promise to himself somewhere in his younger days to do the Most Despicable things anyone could do on the planet....and he had nearly accomplished his goals.  Since he was 17 he had pretty much fucked, obliterated, consumed, desecrated, and made into Unholy Art...just about every creature on God's green planet.   All that was left was his Magnum Opus.  His final Grand Work.

You see, this Nightingale had a song.  She didn't really think it was that much of a song in the long run...it was heavily laden with cliché, metaphor and way too-colorful imagery.  It was derivative and droning in parts....and was ripe for parody on SNL if it Ever became a hit.  

But this man wanted to steal the Nightingale's song...and kill the songbird so that she could never sing again....or profit from the song.

He had already isolated her from her friends and community and admitted to adopting some of her phrases, and even writing down some of the more poetic ramblings that seemed to tumble out of her mouth from time to time.  He even had a title...”Angel Wings”. 

At some point, they no longer needed telephone wires, or cell phone waves, or wifi to communicate.  Their brainwaves just “connected” one day.  And suddenly, they could talk to each other all day...and all night long. 

For the man rarely slept.

But oh, the exquisite nightmares he would send his little caged bird.   But those were just the hors d'oeuvres.

There was the “you can't masturbate because it makes me want to kill you” ploy.   The, “you shouldn't go to the store right now, because you know I am renting the apartment right across the street and I am feeling like I want to attack and kill you on your way and I just don't care what happens to myself right now” ploy.  The “every time you fall asleep, I jack myself off thinking about screwing your headless body” ploy.  (The couple of times her web cam had mysteriously gotten “stuck” on stills of her sleeping in very death-like poses, made that last one seem Very Probable)

The latest installment of these tactics was the threat of 15lbs of explosives underneath the floor of her bed, attached to the ceiling of the boiler room in the basement below her.  She was told that when the explosion hit the water pipe of her toilet, that too would explode.   Her landlord with a gambling debt would profit from the insurance and all would be right in the world.

It was amazing how much knowledge she had picked up from having her brainwaves engaged and entangled with this man.  He was of genius level intelligence, after all.   Most of it was stuff she wished she could “un-know”.  Too Much Information. 

But he had also done something amazing for her.  In the landscape of her mind, which was completely pastoral...she discovered a huge city with no electricity.  And while she had been content to just run around in the countryside...the offices of her brain housed in castles and keeps scattered willy-nilly across the moors and valleys....he gave her Light.

In one of the moments where they had connected at a Real Human Level...brother-sister, friend-friend....he told her excitedly that he knew how she could turn on the lights in the city...and he showed her the Power Grid on the edge of town and showed her how to flip the transformer switches to ON.  And one by one....some of them took a couple of tries....but one by one the switches sent Huge

throms of electricity over sturdy cables and it brought the darkened left hemisphere of Lucinda's brain to fullness of life.  Her life-long struggles with mathematics suddenly had a bright new promise of coming to a victorious conclusion and she would finally be able to finish her design degree.

Such were the gifts that they had given each other in former times.  But now was a Different Day.  Choices were hard.  Rest was uneasy.  

She remained constantly armed and maintaining a warrior stance. She was aware of Every Step of the Responsibility that walked her to this place in Time, but there was nothing to do but to keep walking and living to fight another day.

That he would actually take her out if he had the chance, she had no doubt whatsoever.   They had both had Enough of this constant conversation.

Any sweetness that was leftover from the Lies of the past, was flung at her in pitiful attempts to garner her empathy once more...trojan horses as it were.

But it was still difficult not to fall into old habits when they were communicating, smile at a shared memory or former private joke.  

But remembering old times just brought the anger now.  Provoking coincidental loud banging in the apartment above her...keep your enemies close.   That he still had money to rent her neighbor's apartment from him with all the drugs he was currently doing was astounding to her.   But that was a huge part of why he could not change.   Exactly like the tarot card of the Devil, he was Chained to his addictions.

The police had been little help.  Because it had started out with her consent, there was little they could do, even though she had now changed her locks and he was still getting in when she would have to leave to go grocery shopping.   If he was stealing things of value, it would be one thing.   Leaving tissues with DNA that the crime lab had no time to test, was not considered serious enough.   He would have to commit a crime before they could do anything.

It came down to Fate now.  They were going to have to meet and fight like Mahishasura and Durga in middle of their shared street, which now felt like a River of Blood, that flowed between them. 

All she wanted was to get in that one Killshot...that coup de grace when she is at full strength.  Then she will know that her death was worthwhile.

He had plans to make her into some kind of martyr.  Leave her fouled body in some sort of ghoulish tableau...such as a crucified Virgin Mary with her severed head at the top of the cross.  Or he had entertained her headless on the X-looking St. Andrew's Cross, with her head between her spread bound feet.   But she would not let him get close enough.  Curtains drawn wide open, nine inch combat blade always at her side, if not in her hand...and phone dialed to 911 with a trigger-happy finger set to go.

The battle continued because he could not bring himself to end the life of the only person who had ever truly befriended him.  She had seen most of his darkness, and still somehow found a way of accepting him for who he was, and even seeing some spot of goodness inside of him.  That belief of hers, that he had any goodness in him whatsoever made the murderous rage boil inside of him to temperatures worthy of Hell.

They had tried negotiating Peace Treaties but nothing could last because what it all came down to was that the Hunter had set his sites on his prey long ago...and had been Stalking for a long, long time, and was all kinds of Hungry.  

The problem was, the prey had become a Warrior.

And now they eyed each other suspiciously from this stalemate position.   She with her blade and her cellphone poised to call the police.   He with his weapons and his own disposable cell phone, and his own trigger-happy finger, ready to detonate the explosives affixed to the ceiling of the utility room beneath her pretty princess bed. 

But she was ready for whatever was coming.  Any direction he came from, she was ready for combat.  As for being blown up, she had been practicing not bracing herself when she walked past her bed...because as she had learned from her experiences in a couple of minor car incidents...when you tense yourself ...your muscles, molecules....against an impact you absorb the wave of energy instead of being hit by it, the particles of energy pass through you.  You may still get some bruising from coming in contact with molecules of other objects being thrown by the blast, but the impact will still be lessened with this technique.

Or, simply put....”Nothing shields like an Open Heart”.  

When she got one “revelation” too many about his psyche, he threatened to cut out her tongue.  It seemed appropriate since she spoke in tongues from the time she was a 13 year old girl at Pentecostal church camp.   She had spent a lot of time praying at the altar after service when the other kids were at the pop stand having hamburgers and flirting with each other.   Then she had to go and to be whatever  God wanted her to be when she was 20 years old...Open Up and become a “God-Tube” as her friend Bill used to say.

That's how she got entangled in the mind of a Charlatan who was in reality trapped in a web of his own making.   She had given his name to many of her friends and family members, as well as 2 different police departments in recent days, and in the event of her death, he would be The Hunted.   And he had crimes on docket that could either make him Notorious or turn him into a Laughing Stock, depending on the Media Spin.  

She had one last trick up her sleeve.   She wrote her story and posted it on the website that she knew they both had friends on.   The writing was difficult, with much interruption from her foe.  

Of course, there was always the possibility that he would end up doing the Honorable thing, and just fall on his sword.   He'd said he'd “had a good run”.   It was a chance at some possible redemption.   It was the Utilitarian solution...so many lives had already been cut down by this man, and so many more could be affected...and he didn't think he would be well-suited to prison life.

Her story finished, she still needed to battle the internet to post it.   He was an elegant hacker, but God and luck had been on her side so far and she was certain she would be able to get her missive through.

Nothing to do then, but take off her clothes and walk past the lethal bed once more to the shower.

Nothing Shields Like an Open Heart.

But of course, she would be carrying her Blade.

Of Course, she would.

(In Real Life....JP claims to be the “Tot-Mom Killer” from Florida...and that is the reason he came up to Minnesota.  The mysterious “boyfriend” of Casey Anthony's mom...who molested and then assisted in getting rid of the body after he murdered the little girl)

Ichabod

PTS.

Pretty Tough Shit.  That's what I am talking about.  That's Exactly what I'm talkin' about.

Nice to meet you...I'm Jack Perdue. I was born in St. Paul Minnesota and moved down to Atlanta Georgia when I was 10 years old.  As of April 3, 2013...my bank account contained around $6,000,000...heh...yep...The Six Million Dollar Man. I have 7 cars that I drive regularly, (including a sweet little blue mustang, a little black Lincoln Mercury convertible; and a souped up Black Charger); 17 motorcycles (including the prototype for the first Buell racing bike made by Harley Davidson); 7 drivable trucks; and a fleet of 17 of the most beautiful black shiny luxury automobiles that you ever did see, ranging from sexy little black coupe des villes to antique extended cab limousines.

I am a computer, technological and electronic Expert with over 35 years of Experience...as well as a Master of many other sports such as Motorcycle and Drag racing, and art forms Photography and making High Quality handmade tube amplifiers that .are sought after by a number of well-known musicians.

Now some might think that is is complete bullshit that a man who is so young...only 52 years old...should have Mastered so many Different disciplines, but when you consider that I have devoted my time and energy to completely immersing myself in each and every one of these arenas, and learning the skills necessary to Master them....and when you factor in that I work Constantly, Rarely take a vacation or even watch TV, and I read like a Fiend to keep up with all the latest developments in technology....then you can imagine how such Mastery in one man can be possible.

Just Imagine.

The overhead light flickered and fluoresced to a sickly greenish life as the hung-over serial killer that was me, shuffled into the bathroom to vomit up my late night snack and beer chaser.

I wipe my mouth on my arm and don't bother to try to brush my teeth...the sink is fully occupied.  I exit and go rinse my mouth in the kitchen.

Having a dead body for a roommate is like having the Worst Houseguest Ever.  They Never pick up after themselves.  The bleed all over the place.  They sleep with their ass in the air in your bathtub...not even leaving when you have to take a shower!  They keep their head in the sink....and much like the old adage about houseguests and fish....they start stinkin' up the place after a couple of days!

Sheesh!

Of course, I would have loved to tell that “joke” over dinner conversation at some Gala for the local Chamber of Commerce.  They would Not know what to do with That. Most would probably just go on with some other unrelated “safe” topic and ignore me completely.   I imagine the peals of laughter I could receive with with the Right Audience....of course.  Of Course.

Because there are some things that a body can Never share with another when you decide to secretly take human lives for your personal sexual gratification.  Especially when it involves post-mortem manipulation and mutilation of the corpus delicti

Those things are just never discussed in polite society, and  if  so discussed, may serve to get a body arrested.

To be certain, I was never officially arrested.  I had certain “run-ins” with Law Enforcement---which were carefully kept “under wraps” due to certain connections with my business associates in the Human Trafficking Organization. (Or the “HTO” as we referred to it sometimes.).  The worst was the 2007 Georgia slaying of a couple and their newborn baby girl.  I broke in wearing my latex “Dexter suit”as I like to think of it.  It's completely black, with a sleek fitted hood (black and sleek fitted....now That's What I'm Talkin' About!)  and a slightly opaque flesh colored mask that has a studded leather harness that fits over my face like a spider's web...with a large “O” ring in the mid-forehead.   (That is where usually a fun colored polythene dildo is placed...but I have a Different attachment that I use in that spot)

That one I was So Lucky to have gotten away with...because I made a Mess out of it.   I was so excited to be raping that little baby in front of her parents that I cut my hand on my blade when I went to do my Grand Finale …. (An Idea that came from a Long Historical Secret Society Tradition...that I made Popular, Packaged for the Youth of Today and Sold in Pieces to the General Public through my contacts in the Music Industry.)....of piercing the soft spot of the newborn and then penetrating it as the chemicals of the Fight of Flight response REACT all over the tip of my cock and the brain pulsates and quivers in its dying moments.   I feel it all in TECHNICOLOR-SurroundSound-3D-RadioVision....and you have No Idea how exciting it is to feel That Baby's brain Reacting all over the tip of My Cock and pulsating and quivering in it's dying moments. Oh my fucking god.

I bled all over the place.  The husband attacked me with the fireplace poker and missed.  I killed him and then I was alone with the mother ….and the baby.   But she would not let go of that little dead baby.   I wanted to fuck that little dead baby SO Fucking bad...but that woman would Not Let Me Fuck that little dead baby.  And let me tell you....when I want to fuck that little dead baby So Fucking Bad and someone won't let me Fuck that little dead baby...That is THE WORST Possible Thing in the ENTIRE World.  So I had to kill her Right Away....and Oh My God...I did NOT want to kill THAT woman Right Away.  She was So Beautiful.  I Really Wanted to spend some Time and Play with her.  But I had to fuck that baby again, RIGHT NOW and I mean RIGHT NOW!   So I killed her and took the baby and I fucked that dead baby for 6 days....and let me tell you that after 6 days there is not much dead baby left to fuck and that dead baby doesn't smell that good but you cannot imagine how much I Love the smell of dead baby for six days that does not smell that good....you have No Idea.

The police caught me because of the Blood and DNA.   But they just let me go because of the connection to the Government with the Human Trafficking Operation.   There is So Much Money being made on the extermination of Illegal Immigrants in this country...Oh My God.   And when you get the women, you are getting the breeders....and stopping the race at it's roots.   And the price the White Supremists will Pay for PROOF positive that Women of Color and their Offspring are being Brutalized, Degraded and Terminated is Exorbitant!   Not to mention the perverts who just like to watch snuff porn.  

But eventually, even I ran afoul of my Human Trafficking connections and they stopped wanting to get me out of my jams.  Having a necrophilic/pedophilic/cannabalistic/voyeristic Fetish is sort of like trying to go through life with an 800 lb. Undead  Zombie Gorilla on your back---and you are obsessively compulsed to keep taking him down and randomly raping him in public.   At some point...even the most tolerant and jaded of those around you are going to get either disgusted, bored,  annoyed , or plain sick of your behavior and just want it to be OVER!

I shake my head as I look around the bathroom in that church camp, pop-stand, chartreuse light and I could see why...

“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”.  ….OR....”ICHABOD”.

That's what looked like should be hanging on a shingle written in blood above the bathroom door.  Because Blood was all over  the place.  I had removed the plastic tarps---but the sink and the tub insides were full red.  Id' gotten a little sloppy after some extra beer and I came to take a piss and slipped on a patch of blood  I'd dripped---so there were some skid marks and foot prints for me to clean up too.

But so far things were doing okay---my fuck buddy was draining quite nicely.  His arms and legs were tied to the curtain rod.  I had designed special hooks that  attached so that the limbs would hang inside the tub to drain for less mess.  I used to tell my visiting dates and friends that they were for “shower bondage scenes” which always brought me either a cold shoulder, a hot pussy or a pat on the back....and I never cared which one I got.

The headless torso was problematic.  It needed to be drained on both ends evenly to be effective and this meant turning....(a job which was laborious when it was a Fuck Buddy over for the weekend and not a “Special Lady Friend” I was “spending my time” with.....should someone happen to phone.).  Then of course, there was making sure you didn't get the body too wet while you were showering.  Hair, pits and bits and you were “Outta There” unless you wanted that sucker to rot on you faster than you planned....especially in the summer!

It takes a basic knowledge of Science to be a necrophile and get away with it for 35 years

Then there is the head.  The little monster.  No longer human, it serves a purpose as my cum dump only.  It eats only what I decide to feed it from my own body---and likewise, it is my child.  My hideous, monstrous child.

I could cradle it tenderly, rape it lovingly and long, abuse it, berate it....humiliate it and make fun of it---and even neglect it by just leaving it in the bathroom sink and walking the hell away for a few hours.

Ah......parenthood.

I had a baby once.  Eggs of the Woman I loved.  Brought home to the woman I lusted after.  Farmed in the womb of  the woman I couldn't say No to.

I like to think of myself as a Romantic Serial Killer.

Only man I had ever seen that would snort pussy off my own fingers like cocaine after I fingered a woman.   Drove 'em crazy mad too.   That's what I'm talkin' about....That's Exactly what I am talking about!!

Course....made me want to reach for my little yellow 1970's “ANACIN” box where I kept my coke and  rub a little on my top gum.   I was always losing that darn thing....and calling out “Ann-A-CIN”...like it  was some pretty girl down a hill full of wild flowers, and I was callin' her home to make supper for me.

I always loved the Ladies.

Often, I would take a woman on the date of their Dreams before I had my Wicked Way with them.  Sometimes, if they held my interest or suited my purposes....the Dream could last for years...depending on the number of Miles I kept between us on a Regular Basis.

The Internet opened up an entire world of possibilities....It really Widened my Field and if you don't think it didn't Widen My Field then you don't know what it Really Means that the Internet REALLY ...and I mean FUCKING Really...Widened my Field! Had it not been for the anonymity of the World Wide Web,  I am sure I would have been caught long before I had a chance to be “Thick as Thieves” with  the HTO....which most people would be Horrified to know includes their local law officers, the FBI, Homeland Security, and the Armed Forces...and oh my Gawd...is it a Grand Time to Join the Navy, boys!  Just be willing to Pay with your Soul.  Pirates, and Faggots and Sex Slaves...OH MY!

But I like to “court” a woman...in the Old Fashioned Style...for quite some time before I  take what's Mine for the taking.   I adorn myself in the stylings of a Young Southern Gentleman...and I give her Every Opportunity to bow out of the situfuckingation. 

I let her know that I am an Honorable Man....and that No Woman would have Anything to fear around an Honorable Man....and in fact....a woman who acted Fearful around an Honorable Man...might just be looked on as a little bit....suspect.  A little bit...dim.  A little bit....crazy even.  Because it's only Rational to be Trusting of an Honorable Man.  Especially one who is a Member of the Local Chamber of Commerce and is so Forthcoming with his Real Name and Telephone Number.

But...I also let her know that my Intentions with * her *...are Anything But Honorable.

And there is the Perfect Mindfuck.

Because at that point.....Most stupid cows think that you mean that last sentence MetaFuckingPhorically.   And that was SO BEAUTIFUL to me. 

The fact that Woman Logic worked so well that it didnt even bother to beg the question....”But If you are an Honorable Man...how can you even HAVE Intentions that are Anything but Honorable?”

Because Women Logic with their Hearts...Not their Minds.  And Don't you Dare tell Me...and Listen...I mean REALLY FUCKING LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TELL YOU THAT ...Don't you DARE FUCKING Tell ME that Fucking Woman DON”T Logic with Their hearts and NOT their Fucking minds...

Because  I like to fuck their Minds....and Their Hearts. LiterFucking-ly!   Don't you See?  Don't you Get It?

Or I used to.

So I would take them to Exotic places....places where they could wear their best clothes....sometimes I would even have to provide them with appropriate attire....and then we would go out for a night or a weekend to places that serve the best food...and chilled drinks with a exclusive gourmet sugar/salt mix around the edge of the glass.  And those bitches feel like they have died and gone to heaven.

Until they get alone with me....and they die for real.

I have 5 mix tapes....one for each type of slaying that I do.   One for multiple women.......it concludes with Jazz Butcher's “Party Time”.   Then there is one for Men,  One for Children.  One for Couples....I liked to kill  a couple in love and watch the interplay of their fear.  

But my most Romantic mix tape cd was for me with Single women.  Because I like to think of myself as a Straight Male.  Well...an Omnisexual, Straight Male.  (grins)

Once, I even shared two of my favorite fetishes together.

I was giving a young woman from Kentucky the “night to remember”  before I  “Made the Night My Own” and I had told her that I would be making her a special shrimp dinner at my place in Florida before we “got down to business” that evening.

You have No Idea how Excited that woman was to have shrimp dinner at My House with me that night....Listen to me....that woman...that woman was So Exfuckingcited to just be coming to My Fucking House to have a Fucking shrimp dinner...and Oh My F-F-Fucking God...So was I.

I had stopped by my local connection at the abortion clinic and picked up a bag of fresh fetuses for the dinner....$50,000 but worth Every Penny for the Look it Got me that Night from that girl's face when she saw what was on her plate!   I even cooked up some real shrimp for the aroma...but when I served her at the table....those little shrimpys were All 100% Baby....and she had already swallowed one before she noticed and OMG that made me so hard I could barely fuckin' breath.

She tried to vomit...but I wouldn't let her....and Fuck,  Man , Hell...it got pretty Ugly from there.

And if you don't know what “Fuck, Man Hell, it got pretty Ugly from there” means then Oh my Fucking god you have No Idea what “Fuck Man Hell, it got Pretty Ugly from there “Means!

Cause she Was Pretty....but she sure Got  UGLY by the Time I was done with her.

Yee-Haw!

But the fun never seemed to last.

I was always searching for that Elusive Something...that “je ne sais quoi” as the French like to say. 

France was always near and dear to me.  I often gave my self the moniker of “Jean Pierre”...because I liked the association to the word “Rock”.  “I am a Rock”...as Simon and Garfunkle sang...and Hell Baby...I will Crush you like Nobody's Business!

There is a secret thrill I get by letting a victim know what is going to happen to them just before they are about to become my prey.   After I have wined and dined...put on the Ritz, shown her the glitz, shined the boots and the Lightning....and Oh My God...it's time to put on the Maskies.

And you have No Idea How Exciting it is for me when it's Time to put on the Maskies.

Of course, hers ...all Baroque and feathery...won't go on until after her lights go out.

Do you See?  Do you Fucking Get It?

Sometimes I'm afraid I'll have a few too many beers (and I drink Dos Equis ...just like “The Most Interesting Man in the World”----either that or Corona) and I am gonna spout off something that will let people know just what kind of sick shit is going on beneath my hood.

I think the thing that is so addicting about killing for me is what happens in the eyes of your victim as they are dying. 

I call it The Quickening.

When they are staring straight into your eyes and they * Know * Exactly ….and I mean Ex-Fucking-Zactly.... what is happening,  why you are doing it, and who you are, and----they are Helpless to stop it.  Their eyes become Wide and Dilated and then they …...Pulsate.

The pupils constrict and dilate in rapid succession...scientifically, it's called mydrios and miosis respectively....and let me tell you, it is The Most Exciting Thing you could Ever Imagine.

Girl told me once that I mad her heart “quicken”---and that “Yes, she knew the original meaning of that word” ...  the time at which fetal movement begins in pregnancy around four months.

It was all I could do, to hold my tongue til we go out of town----away from her safety zone, away from her one friend in the world.   And it was * Oh So Easy * to help her lose her cell phone.

And then I told her that evening after dinner, as we kissed in the cheap motel ---about the “other” meaning of “Quickening”.

And I told her with a 9 inch blade entering her belly and a rock hard cock entering her pussy and she was so mesmerized that she never even saw it coming...

Neither did I...when my time came and the bullet finally hit the bone.

So, I would occupy my time with more Involved pursuits.  Mindfucks and Intricate Games of Intrique and Innuendo that would get me through the hum-drum Everyday life that must be lived.  Of course for me...that life always revolved around killing.  Always.  

It started when I was pretty young....my own personal forays into my Dark Wonderland of Blood and Sex.  I used to tell people I had a peculiar form of color blindness that only allowed me to see certain frequencies on the color spectrum....and that I could see some that were not there.  I always made a point of saying that Red was a color I was Not able to see.   But then I would add that it was Irritating to my eyes.   Most people did not ask what this meant. 

The first human I killed was on a white couch.  It turned all red.  Since then, every time I see a Red Couch I get so Fucking Hard I cannot fucking stand it.

A pig was the first thing I attempted to Fuck that I Really wanted to hurt and I Knew I wanted to kill.   I'd killed me a rabbit or two while fucking them and even fucked a dead fish....but when neighbor's sow had piglets---I wanted to fuck and kill one of those little baby piglets so bad....I couldn't think of Anything Else.  Until one one sunny afternoon.---I wanted it to be bright so that I could see all the colors---I crept over to Donovan's farm, and got me one of the cutest piglets and took it down by the river.

I just played with it for a while.  I wondered what it would be like if I let it live and raised it and then brought it to market.   That made me hard so I fucked it.   As I was doing it, I took a hold of that curly little piggy tail and I curled it around my finger.   It felt so Odd...such a strange thing coming out of such a human-like butt.  The I pulled too hard and Ooops!----Off Popped the tail and Hot Blood squirted and the piggy squealed and danced on my dick and the Orgasm was Infuckingcredible and That's What I'm Talking About!  And Don't you Dare Fucking Tell me that you don't Fucking Know that I didn't think Right Then and There of Alice in Fucking Wonderland....and that little fucking baby that turned into a little fucking piggy....and Oh MY God...that made me So Fucking Hot...and If you don't know that Oh MY God that mad me So Fucking Hot then you REALLY don't know WHO the FUCK you are dealing with!

Sometimes I would set a trap that would take Years to catch my prey....and by the time I would hear that sucker go SNAP....I was All Kinds of Hungry!

I'm a gamer of all kinds.  I gamble...Oh my god, do I gamble.  If you don't think that I have gambled away as much money as I had in my account the day that I died then you don't know that you are talkin' to Jacky P. Perdue...self-educated multi-millionaire who was a smooth, suave and sophisticated Kinkster  and The Most  Prolific Serial Killer in the History of the Modern World.

But two of my favorite games are chess and pool.  I have pondered quite a bit on how Life is a lot like a cosmic intersection of these two Gentleman's passtimes....whereby the rules, actions and properties of both apply in the same space/time sector.

And I design my Intricate Interactions with men, children...but especially Women...along the principals I have realized during these ponderings.  While everyone else was busy playing a straight game of chess....I decided to take a look at what would happen if I started using the pool table that the chess board happened to be settin' on.   I wondered if I could just maybe...just maybe now once in a while....shoot that big white cue ball Right Through that chess board where that game was being played and if the pieces were lined up Just Right...that I could Knock Down just ONE little piece of my choice without disturbing Any of the others....and maybe nobody would notice.

So that was always my strategy.   Nobody else seemed to be noticing or needing the pool table, the balls or the pool cues...so I felt I had free access to 'em.  And I always took free access to things that no one seemed to notice...and if you don't think that I steal shit...then you have no idea who your dealing with.

Seriously,  You have No Idea Who you are Dealing With.

Neither did I.

I got caught in a trap.  First I was stretched out on a Web by two Black Widow Spiders...bound by clear  viscous gelatinous goo that had the tenacity of 10,000 elephants all pulling together. 

Then, I was devoured by a creature with a babydoll face,  the body of an Earth Goddess, curly blond hair of an Angel,  And Oh My God...that that little Sherlock Temple ever do a number on me....I swear to God...she wrapped me up tight and sucked me dry..

And all along...I thought I was the one who had her number.

It started out with two little kids...buck nekkid in a field of buttercups...with a little red lady bug and a baby deer.

First, just a little backstory.   Back in the late 1960's and early 1970's, my stepfather used to take me and my brother and sisters to visit my grandfather on his “farm” near what is now Belwin...a Nature Reserve just north of St. Paul, Minnefuckinsota...that is now used for elementary school children in the district...between 2^nd and 5^th grades.   Belwin was started by Charles Bell....of General Mills fame....descendant of the first Charles Bell who “cleared” local land by slaughtering indians who were settled on their U.S. Government sanctioned Reservations.   He was lauded for his efforts.

There was another little girl who would come along sometimes.  Her father would bring her because he and my stepfather were in the same group of pedophiles and artists that were working in an underground network to produce low budget, but high-quality child pornography....as well as some limited snuff films for mostly personal use.   Sometimes during a snuff take....they would give us kids bits and pieces to make art with....and little Lisa was a pretty good artist even as a baby.

We even had some interest from the Government back then.  Henry Kissinger was a frequent visitor, and used to enjoy romping with my sister and I in the field beside the barn.  And if you don't know what I mean by Henry Kissinger used to enjoy romping with my sister and I in the field beside the barn...then you don't know who Henry Kissinger REALLY FUCKING IS!!!!

So....this little girl and I were together...a lot.   And I swear to God we fell in Love....and when I say we fell in Love I mean we fell in Fucking Love!  And don't you DARE tell me that., that little girl and I didn't Fucking fall in Fucking Love, and I Fucking Mean it …...Oh MY FUCKING GOD!

And one day, those old perverts captured on film, The Most Beautiful...example of child pornography that the World had Ever Seen.  It was me and Lisa in a springtime field, with the morning dew illuminated by the Sun...and there were Buttercups Everywhere.   And little Lisa would just * Squeal * with delight every time one of the ladybugs that frequented the field would land on a buttercups...because she had a little book called “Colors All Mixed Up” and it had both a buttercup and a ladybug in it...and because the primary colors excited her so much.

We made love in that field...like two adults who had known that this moment was both their Destiny Fulfilled and All they would Ever Have.  She pleased me so gently, and kindly.  She was so soft and caring.  And I Loved her so much. 

And when a baby deer came nearby to munch on one of those buttercups, and I told her to “shhhh” ….”Be still”...and I held her near.....she was So Happy to just “be” in my arms and watching that deer nibble that little buttercup.

I always thought of her as my little buttercup.

At the end...I showed her the trick about makin' a wish on a buttercup...where you hold it up under your chin and let the light shine and see if your chin is yellow and that means you have butter on your chin and your wish will come true.  

Lisa made a wish....and I held up the buttercup....and there was butter on her chin.    I asked her what she wished for.   She said she wished I would marry her when we grew up.   I said I promised I would marry her when we grew up.  She asked what would happen if we were moved away from each other.  So we made a promise to Never Lose Each Other...And Always Find Each Other....No Matter What.

I got moved away from my little buttercup at age 10....and I was so angry because I thought it was the fault of my older sister....so I killed her and was grounded for a year.   That's it.  Grounded for a year in my room....no jail, no meds....just grounded.

I studied during that year.  Science, and Electronics and Grey's Anatomy and the Occult and any other Adult subject I could get my hands on.   And oh my God....by the time I was back out and about....I was a Strange Little Boy Indeed.

So.....Time goes by....and I am involved with Two Women Real Time....and I have one as a “Giga-Pet”.    And if you don't think that I didn't just search all over til I found my Little Buttercup again....and I had been watching and stalking her since she was 16 years old and she had No Clue ...I mean NO Fucking Clue!   And if you don't think that I didn't just Love the Idea that my little Giga-pet had NO FUCKING CLUE....then you REALLY don't Fucking GET who it is that you are Fucking Dealing with in this situfuckingation.

The other two women, Shy and Jeanne,were my yin and my yang....my blond and my brunette that I could never decide about.  It was like trying to choose an automobile...and you could only have ONE fucking color ….For Life.  And Oh My God...I do Not enjoy having only ONE fucking color for Fucking Life.

At least I didn't while I had one.

You see, while I was busy manipulating and maneuvering and trying to control everything and everybody around me....my little Giga-pet was sneakin' up behind me to throw a rope around me and bring me in....Only I didn't feel like goin' down  easy.

It all came to a head one year after I had been scheming for a good long while.  I had obtained eggs that  Lisa had removed when she was in college during her appendectomy and had them implanted in the blond woman, Shy.  When she was about to have the baby....I began contact with the woman I had been stalking for all these years....although by then she “knew” me Online Only as a “Mysterious, yet Benevolent Southern Man of Honor in the BDSM Community.

I told her I loved her and wanted to have a baby with her. I gave her my usual program about how she would have to “earn” my attentions again, by completing a number of challenges....such as perfectly cleaning her apartment, changing her diet, getting off of certain prescription medications, throwing away things from old boyfriends, buying new clothes for our first date.....all designed to throw her off balance, test her submission to my Control, and weaken her ability to have vital medications for her conditions (supposedly in the name of the Health of our “unborn child”) and to lessen her purchasing power and household stocked up tools and supplies.   (All the Easier to Hunt you, my dear....if you have no money to run and no tools to nail your door shut from the Big Bad Wolf!)

 She seemed to fall like all the others...but there was something different happening.  I tried not to let my vulnerability to her show....and she obviously remembered Nothing of what happened on the Farm when we were children....But at some point....The tables turned....and Oh My God ...when I say the Tables Turned I mean the Tables Fucking Turned.  Pretty soon I was Dust in the Fucking Wind.

No more motorcycles, no more Remington Full Flavor 100s---the red pack with the Cowboy...so very Me.  No more pizza, poker, pussy or beer.  Cause I have Hit the Road, Fuckin' Jack.

But I came back some more.  And that's a fucking Fact.  Jack.  Talkin' to you from the Great Beyond.   Turns out my little Buttercup is not only a hell of an amateur Detective, she is a preacher of the Word of Jesus and she got me to get down on my knees and repent for my sins before I went and duct taped a gun to my head and shot my brain to Kingdom Come.

Also turns out shes a Psychic.  I went up to Heaven to see Jesus I could NOT believe he was going to let me stay.  I thought it was a Fucking Joke.  (By the way, swearing...like using words like “Fuck” ain't No Fucking Sin...and Jesus told me so Himself!)  But he asked me if I wanted to stay or go help my Lisa out of the jam I left her in....and I told him heaven wasn't heaven with out my Little Buttercup.

So we been hanging out, trying to bust up the rest of the Human Trafficking ring....and get the people who are killing babies for fun and profit put away.  

We even rode past my very own funeral on the bus...I couldn't get her to stop though. I was still new, and I was still perfecting my h'aintin' technique.   I guess I wasn't singing “Henry the 8^th I am I am “ loud enough yet....if you get my drift from the Movie “Ghost” with Whoopie and Demi.

The motorcycles in the processional to the cemetery were a Nice Touch...I must fucking say.

But I have a little Unfinished Business..   And I just got All of my memory back.   And Oh My God...let me tell you how Amazing it is to get All of my memory back.   The return trip from “The Beyond” can be a doozie!

At first all I could remember was that is was “about a girl”....Big Fucking Deal...isn't it always?

The, it became more clear...The two spiders, one blond, one brunette....In competition for me..  But my heart always stuck on another.

But my Real Problem...my Real Problem...Don't you See, don't you Get it?....the one Real Problem I had.....that I couldn't see....was that....I couldn't See.

I was always a vain man in my life.   I was obsessed with photography.  I was always trying to see how I looked in the picture.

And I was Never happy with the image.

I couldn't ever look at myself in the mirror and be happy and love myself.   And much like the “Portrait of Dorian Gray”....the more I killed, the more diseased my soul became....the more it seemed to manifest on my face.

So instead of Building a Real Life...and Feeling Empathy and Joy and Other Emotions....I spent my time trying to take pictures of  Perfection....while at the same time Literally Tearing Apart other people's Picture Perfect Lives by trying to “Feel” them Inside....in a all to Virtual and Tangible sense.

I never got my dream date with my Lisa Buttercup.   I had a present for her...but once I got that package delivered to me....I did not want to give it away.   You see...it had been a Twin Pack...and I had already broken into one of bottles.   And Oh My God...when I picked up that other little baby and brought her from Shy's home in San FranFuckingCisco back to Minnefuckingapolis....it only took till that little girl was 10 days old before I was raping that little baby girl.   And Oh my god...once I started raping that little baby girl....I did NOT want to Stop Raping that little baby girl.   And I did NOT want to give her away to my now middle-aged Buttercup.

I killed that little baby I conceived inside of Shy with Lisa's eggs.   Jeanne and I were going to raise her after Jeanne herself discovered her own pregnancy....but things were spiraling for me by that time.  Jeanne knew I was raping the baby...but of course wasn't going to turn me in....Of Course not.   What happens in the Upper Echelon of the BDSM community STAYs in the Upper Echelon of the BDSM community.  In fact, I paid a few local women a lot of money to help me take care of that little baby girl so I could just keep raping her....and more than one of them was a nurse.  In fact....that's how we get our shots in the HTO, if we decide to keep a baby around for a while before we kill it....or grow it up to be our slave before slaughter.....we have our little nursies grab some innocufuckinlations for us ….and we shoot the little suckers up ourselves.   Genius.

Anyway....after Jeanne found out about what I did with the baby when I took off with it on December 23....and came back without it ….and only a jar of blood and a few trophies.....She was pretty scared about our own offspring.   So she insisted we get collared and then married Right a-fucking way!

But I felt like I had died the night I killed my daughter in my Buttercup's apartment.   And my Buttercup...who had just found out that she had been my “Giga-pet” because of the 17 nano-cams I had installed in her apartment and that I had been watching her for all those years....decided she was a “Woman Scorned” and was going to scream like a Banshee with wail so unearthly it would wake Hell with it's Fury.

The day I was supposedly getting ready for my collaring with Jeanne...I was in the fucking bathroom....jacking off and watching my Gigapet.   And Oh my God if she wasn't putting on a Show for me just to Trap me....just to fuckin' Fuck me up....and OH MY GOD...it Really Fucked me up.

Because my girlfriend caught me.  

And there was No Way I was getting out of that one.  

It didn't matter How Much we had put down in deposits for the Fucking Wedding.....or how Romantic she had thought it was that I wanted to use the black floating rose candles that we had used for the night we celebrated her pregnancy for the wedding reception....candles that Lisa had bought as a gift for me....but I convinced her to throw out and then scavenged from her trash.  And Don't you DARE tell me that you don't think that a MAN like me would Scavenge things from MY Gigapet's trash, because...I scavenged EVERY FUCKING THING that I told her to throw away and kept it and came all the Fuck over it....and using those Rose candles with Jeanne made me so fucking excited You Have NO IDEA.

But I wasn't Devoted to Jeanne anyway.   I was secretly making plans to be with Shy.

It boiled down to two things....I wanted Lisa...but Shy was taller and younger.  She looked enough like Lisa for me to think I could be happy with that.  But she told me to “get rid of that baby” and so around Solstice...when Lisa was away visiting family....I crept into her apartment and sacrificed that baby to the Dark Lord.  

And my soul felt like it got weighted down with a Metric Fuckton of Shit from that Day forward.

Until I gave my sins to Jesus....and as an extra precaution....since I didn't know How to go and Sin No more as a Serial Killer (who may have just needed some meds starting as a child....who knows?)  I took my life to make sure I didn't take any others.   But before I did....I confessed my sins to my Best Fucking Friend in the Whole Fucking World....the woman who made me have my literal “Come to Jesus” moment...and that was my Little Lisa Buttercup.  I told her all about the baby I made for her and what I did with it while she was gone visiting her mama at Christmastime...and about how I took pictures of that night with her son's camera to frame her....as well as dressed up a Lisa-look-a-like in her discarded clothes and had the imposter star in a Snuff film where a baby was killed using her favorite fairy castles and unicorns from ex-boyfriends to impale the newborn....and she told me to Repent and she Fucking Forgave me....because she said that Jesus would forgive me and the ONLY way I would Believe that is If SHE forgave me First. 

And it was that Belief....that because Lisa forgave me, that Jesus would be able to Forgive a Fucked Up Baby Brain Fucker like me.....I mean...the soft-spot on a baby should ONLY be PENETRATED by the Light and Love of God Almighty....NEVER by the blade of a knife or the Viagra Hardened Cock of a Man.....That I was Holding in my Heart when I pulled that trigger....and  * BOOM. *...There I was in Heaven....and crying tears of Joy in the Arms of Jesus.

As for the 3 main women in my life....I think I got it all figured out Finally.  It's those Fate Sisters again, working their Time/Space Continuum Mojo.  One Measures, One Weaves, One Cuts.

And I could never figure out which one was which.

Or should I say which witch is witch?

But I got it all figured out now...

I Know who was weaving,

I Know who was cutting,

And I know who is going to get some of My Good Measure....and this time around I Really Do mean “Good.” Fucking..Measure.