The Killer In My Head

Presented down below is the short story I dreamed up the night before on Friday, October 25, 1991 while living in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. It's dark, violent, sick and twisted. It's also why I thought I would like to become a writer one day... and also why I knew I didn't want to be a newspaper journalist again. It began with a stupid little poem I came up with a few days earlier... as I walked up the two flights of stairs to my third floor apartment... strangely enough... I was stone, cold sober.. usually when I am at my most creative... the rest of the story... well... I was feeling kindda sick...

 

THE KILLER IN MY HEAD

By Andrew S. Joseph

"I went for a walk on a moonless night.
I met someone that I didn't like.

So, I killed him."

Yup. I stuck him with my black tempered-steel knife. It's not a German one, but, rather an American. Go with the winners, I always say. Anyhow, he was number 43.

It's getting easier with every one. I don't even need a reason anymore. Though, come to think of it, I suppose that's a lie. Of course, there's nothing wrong with a little lie. After all, I am supposed to be a deranged, psychotic murder. Damn those tabloids! They always use such colorful language. I wish they would get their facts straight, too. I am not deranged or psychotic. I just get a charge out of the idea that I am better than someone. I've got the police in nine States and six countries looking for me. The best part is that aren't even looking for me.

The police are such a joke. They bumble around amongst themselves - too caught up in protocol to get the job done. Idiots. I don't even worry about getting caught anymore.

So. I guess you want to know how I killed my first? Sure you do. All people love the grotesque. If you didn't, you wouldn't watch the news or read the newspaper, now would you? A-hee-hee-hee. Oh, now look at yourself. All defensive. It's why I am better than you. I accept who I am. Why can't you?

Now where were we? ... Oh yeah, my first kill. I did it in Japan about 5 years ago. I happened to live there at the time. I was a semi-respectable high school teacher of English in a prefecture called Ibaraki. Those damn jiffy pop locks. Hah! Piece 'o cake! All it took was the application of a little heat during the biting cold of winter to crack the lock. Simple physics. Always carry a lighter - even if you don't smoke!

I let myself into her apartment. I kept my shoes on in rejection of the culture. Actually, I kept them on because I didn't want to tell her I was there. A-hee-hee-hee. I'm not stupid, you know. Anyhow, I stepped into her bathroom and entered a small room where the toilet was. I waited. It was pretty cold, so I kept my gloves on. I planned it over and over again in my head. It was all so easy. I could make it look like she slipped, hit her head and then drowned while unconscious in an inch of water in the tub.

It really was easy, though the waiting nearly killed me. I had to urinate and did so. I absentmindedly pulled the flush. I suppose I was lucky that she didn't come home at that instant. Always learn from your mistakes, folks.

When she did come, I waited for her to come to me. The toilet is usually the first place people go to read their mail when they arrive home.

When she opened the door to the toilet, I lunged at her and clamped my gloved right hand over her mouth. I quickly pulled her body around onto mine and marched her over to her bathtub. A-hee-hee-hee, she sure put up a struggle, but she still wasn't able to let out a scream. I climbed into the tub and dragged her along with me. With my hand still over her mouth, I twisted her around. You should've seen her eyes! They got really fucking big as she saw that it was me... and then, of all things, she relaxed. That's when I smashed the back of her against the wall! Only once, though. That was to make it look like she had slipped. What a mess! Ha. There was blood dripping all over that wall. I'll never forget that sight. It was a Kodak moment. A-hee-hee-hee!

Luckily she wasn't dead yet, just unconscious. I stripped off her clothes and put one of her socks in her mouth. I'd always wanted to do that, but it wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be.

I remember looking at her then. Everything just sort of slowed down. I noticed she was a woman. A naked woman. My dick began to rise, but then I quickly snapped out of it because that wasn't why I was there.

She was a tough bitch, though not that pretty anymore. A-hee-hee-hee. Anyhow, like I said, she wasn't dead yet - so I grabbed a mess 'o that curly black hair and pushed her face down into the water that couldn't drain fast enough.

The combined assaults finally took their toll. I'd killed her and it felt really great to get that monkey offa my back. A-hee-hee-hee!

I washed up a bit, took the sock from her maw and picked up her sweater that I had thrown on the floor. I noticed that she had spilled some blood on it. Fuck, did that piss me off. I found a plastic bag and put the sweater and both of her socks in it. Then I went into her closet and got another sweater and placed it on the pile of used clothing so's it would look like she wore it that day or to make it look like she was going to wear it after the bath. I was also going to take the socks with me - evidence don'tcha know - I got lucky once again in that she had some old socks among that pile of dirty clothes. I had made a few mistakes and was determined to learn from it, although it wouldn't matter. No one was going to check my mistakes. And they didn't. Cops are dumb. That's why they became cops. They couldn't do anything else. A-hee-hee-hee-A-hee-hee-hee!

I took the plastic bag with me and super-glued the front door to its latch as I left. I figured it would give the appearance of being stuck, so whomever got a key to check up on her would end up breaking the lock I'd already broke! Simply amazing, huh?!

What? Whaaaaaat? Oh yeah, don't give me that look! She deserved to die. I can hear you all saying that nothing she ever did to me could ever justify the taking of another human life. Well, you're wrong! She rejected me! Simple as that! Bad reason? Perhaps for you, but not for me! It's all been adding up until I couldn't take it any more! I hate being ignored! That's why I killed numbers two, three and four. All they had to do was say "hello". But they wouldn't! Stupid bitches! They were rude to me, so I was rude to them!

Whew! Excuse me for getting all worked up there. I know you people will never understand me. It gets me upset. I'm sorry. Anyhow, as for numbers five through 43? Well, why stop, just when I'm getting good? I'd always wanted a trade. "Merchant of Death". That's me. I wonder if I should have some business cards made up? A-hee-hee-hee-A-hee-hee-hee-A-hee-hee-hee!

Of course, I move around quite a bit. And, I only start up after I've established myself in the community.

"The killer next door? He was always such a nice young man. He made me laugh."

Who's laughing now? I am. A-hee-hee-hee-A-hee-hee-hee...