I'm not usually a man that leans towards particularly violent dispositions. In fact, you could probably name me a pacifist of sorts, a man of subtle actions - you know, real Ghandi type shit. But in this case I felt I had to make a small exception to my otherwise placid outlook.
I'm at my good friends house one fine evening when his younger brother comes in crying his little eyes out, his face caked with mud and other assorted undesirable materials. We ask the little guy what happens and he tells us: some uppity 9 year old GIRL (He's 7) pushed him in the dirt and rubbed his face in it. That's right, she rubbed his podgy little visage with with all sorts of filth. My friend is all "Well, this will teach you to fight back" but I reckon that's wrong, and tell the kid to come with me.
We jump in my car, and he tells me where this little bitch lives. I get to the door, ring it, and this huge fat bitch answers it, growling at me like some demented hound - cake mix frothing at her snarling jaws. I tell her what happened - and advise she reprimand her daughter, and the convo goes something like this:
Me: Maybe you should teach your kid some discipline,
Her: Dun yo' dare tell me how to raise ma kids.
Me: Listen, she did wrong. Punishment is necessary.
Her: Fuck you asshole. Faggot bitch. Fuck off
*Slams door*
Well, it seems like this horrendously fiendish woman has the same degree of manners as her 9 year old daughter. Me, being the gentlemen that I am - a man of distinction that simply cannot abide rudeness - kicks in her door.
As I stroll into the ruined interior of her shabby house, I see a look of sheer terror come across her fat, jiggling face. Her hands tremble as tears begin to form in those sea-blue eyes, and I notice a trickle of steaming urine run down her sausage like legs. I grab the nearest knife in the kitchen and throw it at her legs as she attempts to flee from my righteous retribution - cold, hard steel parting the soft flesh with ease. She collapses onto the kitchen floor, a torrent of cooling crimson flooding into the laminate tiles, melting in between the cracks for the small creatures that live there to feast upon.
She's shouting now at the top of her lungs, howling forth agonized screams that seem to split the very air asunder. I pull the knife from her torn calf muscles and lick the blood from the silver gleam of the knife's edge, relishing every drop that fills my tongue with all the wonders of her life-force. She looks up at me in desperation, the unspoken plea for her life glistening in those bluest eyes, and as she does I slam the knife into her stomach with all the glee that justice brings. I no longer even hear the tortured howls as I rip from her body with my hands every vital organ, one by one, and place them on the kitchen counter for her to see. No longer can she scream, no longer can this fat and useless maggot issue forth insults to her moral betters.
It is then that I see her daughter standing there, soundlessly staring the broken and ruined body of her maternal parent figure - and I remember my original purpose. I grab the girl by the hair, and thrust her face into the bloody torso of her own mother. I tell her that if she wants to live, she'll eat the insides of her Mum's stomach and show my friend's Brother as she swallows it, the pieces of extinguished life slipping down her throat like a gourmet steak. As her small teeth sink into the bowels of her parent, I whisper in her ear
"So you don't like your face being shoved in things, eh? Well neither does he."
And I walk away laughing, pleased in my heart that true justice had finally been dispensed to the unrighteous souls of this twisted Earth.
Also, I reckon she won't do it again.
