At four o’clock in the morning I was awakened to a knock. From my dungeon, it took a while for me to hear it. At the top of the stoop, in the burnt-out piano nobile,615 was the main entrance. I slowly made my way to the door, groggy and in nothing but my paisley smoking jacket and ascot. As I began to turn the doorknob, the door violently swung inward knocking me over.616 I thought I heard the laugh of Daddy Diamond, but it was the Glamor Boyz. Bankroll stood there, the point of the wedge. He had a sneer and a baseball bat. I could see in his face this wasn’t going to be good. His dead eye was twitching with every adrenaline fueled beat of the heart. At least he didn’t have a 5 iron.
Betty came flying in, trying to intervene, assuming the worst, but the bat found first contact with her head. Down she went, twitching on the floor. I was next.
When I came to there was blood all over me. My ass was sore. They must have found the dungeon. I reached around to find one of my dildos jammed up my ass.617 Bastards. Betty was in a heap. She was naked and I could see signs of sexual violence. I crawled to her. She was alive, but unconscious. Her scalp was bloodied from where she had been struck by the bat.
That’s the last I recall before I blacked out again.
I came to once more in what must have been the next day. I was in rough shape.618 Betty appeared to be in a comma, so I left her to her dreams. I crawled to my stash. If I was going to be able to manage anything, I’d need to fix myself up. I turned to drinking whiskey and smoking PCP.619 The next thing I knew I was up and walking around. Pistol goes in the belt, jerry can of gasoline goes into the backseat of my ride, and off I went.620 This was the first time I really needed my cane as a cane. But this was also the first time that I really needed my cane as a blade. After all, if I gotsta bring it to you cowards then it's gonna be quick.
615 The house was getting nasty and becoming evidence for the broken window theory. Graffiti was already all over the front. Late night revellers pissed on it and threw beer bottles, pizza crusts, and half-eaten kebabs through the blown out windows. It was becoming rather foul.
616 Stupid, stupid, stupid. Even though everything was burnt to shit, I should have been more on point. It should have been more like how the Goodie Mob hook goes, “Who’s that peekin’ in my window? Pow. Nobody now.”
617 Like, depending on the version you prefer, the dildo gifted by Valentino to Novarro, which was either Art Deco or the lead one fashioned after his own member, and was allegedly used to beat and asphyxiate him. At least they didn’t find my reciprocating dildo. It was industrial, pull-cord activated, and ran on diesel. That would have been most unpleasant.
618 After something like this there is always going to be confusion. However, action is always demanded as well. As Muddy Waters said, “I rose this mornin', mama, and I didn't know right from wrong.”
619 Like Necro said, “I need drugs.”
620 I have a standing commitment to arson with an eye toward homicide, and you’ve already seen me do it once, but again, as it is often the case, my inspiration has been that renowned thinker Zorba. “I went back with a can of paraffin and set fire to the village. She must have been burnt along with the others, poor wretch. Her name was Ludmilla.”
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Off I went in the Cock Mobile and headed back to the neighborhood from which I had for so long become a stranger.621 I went straight to Bankroll’s house. It was the middle of the day. He wasn’t in, so I let myself in. He had a new dog that may as well have been Blink the Proper Meatball. It was barking, so I unscrewed my cane and skewered the dog. It twitched around for a while before giving up the ghost.622 I took it to the backyard and set it on fire.
I felt better, but I wasn’t done. There was evidence of a cat. I found it and killed it. I began skinning it when I heard a car pull up. Mine wasn’t in the driveway, so with any luck he won’t have seen it. I took the cat and hid behind the couch.
Bankroll walked in with Lizzie. They had a kid with them. This is when I truly went berserk. The kid sat down on the couch that I was hiding behind, while Bankroll and Lizzie went off to the kitchen with some of the groceries that they had brought in. I stood up, and plopped the half-skinned cat down on the boy’s lap. He was in shock, for there was only mute, animal terror in his eyes. I went to the kitchen, produced my gun. They saw me. Bankroll riffled through his pockets to offer me money, but I didn’t give a fuck about that. Click-clack. Then I started shooting both of them in the legs.623 There was lots of screaming, and then boy came running in.624
There was blood everywhere. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. The boy was a sobbing heap on the floor, Lizzie appeared to be unconscious, Bankroll was trying to staunch the blood streaming from his legs. To complicate this procedure I used my blade and cut off Bankroll’s fingers. Then I grabbed the boy, noticed the extra pair of hands and cut them off. I pulled the waistband of Bankroll’s pants, and threw the small, cruelly deformed and now severed hands into his underwear. Then I kicked him in the balls.
I dragged all three of them, one by one, by their hair to the top of the stairs leading to the basement. First the boy bounced down. Then Lizzie who was slowly coming to. Then the mutilated Bankroll. They all went down. bump Bump BUMP.
I locked the door. Emptied all their cleaning solvents on the floor opened the gas range. Took the gasoline and lashed it about the house liberally. I was going to serve these motherfuckers up to COCK to atone for my early failures.
When everything was soaked, I popped some flakka and Quaaludes,625 ‘cause that’s how I roll, and smoked some more PCP. I must have lit the fire after that. I don’t remember anything else.
621 Breathes there a man with soul so dead?
622 There may be a theological quibble here, but as you will see, bitches do have souls. See PIMP a(e)s(thic)s:
Motherfucking.
623 Why the legs, you ask. Well, you see, I’m not all bad.
624 For the most part, violence toward children should often be kept in footnotes, maybe even pimpnotes. So, we can say with Eazy E, “The little nigga said don’t kill my mother, so I bashed his head in with my Louisville Slugger.” I, however, used a cane and my cowboy boots.
625 Disco biscuits, motherfucker.
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The police report stated that besides a pair of panties on my head, I was found naked and clutching a horribly disfigured cat. Apparently it proved difficult to make me part with the cat, so it was awkward for everyone involved when I had to be forcibly subdued. The contents of my stomach revealed large quantities of dirt, ash and human fingers. I was up for murder one, two counts of attempted murder, and crimes against nature. These found company amongst a roster of particularly cruel and heinous deeds that have somehow found themselves codified in law.
It turns out the Lizzie and the boy survived the holocaust. Narrowly escaping death, they came out the other side suffering from burns, smoke inhalation, and gunshot and knife wounds. The boy likely had brain damage from blunt trauma, but the amputations were largely cauterized in the fire.626 Apparently I missed all the major arteries in Lizzie’s legs. Bankroll had bled out. I guess that was fine with me.627
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
626 Like Pelops’ ivory shoulder, the bone could always be seen through the wrists of this boy. A truly distinguishing mark. Evidence of the psychological damage was apparent in his repeated, “Father, can’t you see that I’m
burning?” Very strange.
627 As Ninjaman said, “Dem [he, really] is a dead bloodclaat and ah dead bumbaclaat. Dead pussyclaat and ah dead rassclaat.”
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