Killing a retard at Dairy Queen

I was on my way up to Mt. Hood Meadows on Highway 26 and I stopped by the only fast food joint on the way, Dairy Queen. I just wanted to get some quick chocolate-dipped ice cream, and be on my way. There was only one guy at the counter ordering, so I figured it would be a quick in and out.

This was one of those days when I fucking wish to hell that my goddamn big-ass truck would fit through the Dairy Queen drive through.

This one fucking guy in front of me at the counter took FOREVER! While he was ordering, or failing to order, or whatever mental clusterfuck he was doing, I saw at least five vehicles pass through the drive through, get their goodies, and get on with their lives.

I really couldn't tell what the guy's problem was. Standing at the counter, trying to order with his two children, he would say "Okay, I think I'll have a Peanut Buster Parfait. What do you think, Drew?" Like asking his daughter (or maybe the poor children he had just recently abducted) if his order was a good idea? Or maybe what did Drew want? I have no fucking idea.

The poor girl just stood there with a stupid smile on her face and said nothing. Maybe she wasn't abducted, just retarded like her father. "Or, I don't know... A buster bar?" I didn't know if he was asking the counter girl who was desperately trying to take his order, or if he was asking god, or his retard children.

I stood there, knowing exactly what I wanted to order. I knew that if nobody was in line in front of me, I would be in and out of the place in less than five minutes. So every word this retard uttered drove me more and more insane. Every word was like nails on a chalk board.

I wanted to kill him right there while we were in line. I wanted to wipe his stupid fucking retard grin off his face with a pair of needle-nosed pliers. Goddamnit, I hated that guy.

"Maybe a cone? I don't know. What do you think, Shelly?" He asked the other girl that was with him. The retard dad went on and on like this for literally fifteen minutes. I'm not exaggerating one bit. I looked at my watch. Who the bloody fuck takes 15 minutes to order some motherfucking ice cream? This retard.

So, finally he has made up his mind. He places the order and hands the girl his credit card. A credit card, for a five dollar purchase. Fuck this guy! It's not like fucking McDonald's. At Dairy Queen, they have one credit card machine for the whole goddamn place. So the girl goes and stands in line at the motherfucking credit card machine, while all the drive through customers just keep getting their treats and moving along.

I don't blame Dairy Queen. They do this for a reason. They want cash. I was so close to just taking a five dollar bill out of my wallet and saying "Here! For fucks sake. Just get the fuck out of line, and I'll pay for your shit." But, I didn't. I just stood there, stewing some more. Planning this retard's brutal demise.

The counter girl finished the transaction, gave the retard back his card and he gave her a weird look. "On second thought..." He said.

"Seriously?" I finally said, frustrated. "Other people want their treats too, you know." By this time, several other people were in line behind me, becoming just as impatient.

The retarded dad ignored me and just said "Yea... Can we get some fries too?" He asked the counter girl. Like they couldn't actually make fries. Like they just put them on the menu to taunt you or something.

"Of course." Said the counter girl. "That'll be $1.49."

Don't you do it. Mother fucking retard, don't you fucking dare pull out your credit card to pay $1.49.

And, he pulled out his credit card again. God-fucking-damnit! I couldn't wait to rip this guy's heart out and stomp on it with my steel-toed boots.

After that, he finally left the counter and I placed my order. It took me all of ten seconds to order. I stared back at the retard dad in a booth with his two retard kids. They were all smiling that retard smile and talking their retard talk. I swear if I had some sort of machine gun with me, I would have just taken out the whole fucking restaurant right then and there. Fucking smug retard cunts.

I got my ice cream, and sat at the booth across from the retard dad. I gave him the death stare. He didn't even notice my existence. Just rambled on with his retard kids about how he loved the color red and aren't horses nice? Oh look, a birdie.

I could almost understand it if his kids were like one or two years old, but these girls were teenagers, for fucks sake. How the fuck were they putting up with such drivel from this retard dad, I have no idea. I guess they had the retard gene as well.

After about twenty minutes of them talking their retard talk and eating their retard ice cream and stuffing their retard fries in their stupid retard faces, they finally got up to leave. By this time, I had finished my ice cream a long time ago and the whole time, I just stared at retard dad, in the hopes that he might notice me, so he would know who would destroy his life.

I thought for a second, that if he had stopped and noticed me, noticed that he had made my life a living hell as he ordered his stupid retard food. Maybe, if he said he was sorry. Just for a second, I thought, well maybe he didn't have to die. Maybe his kids were just retarded and he was just stooping to their level for a while.

Thank god, that wasn't the case. He didn't notice me. He never said a word to me, never even looked at me. I was completely invisible to him. So, it was quite a surprise when I walked up behind him, at his car and smashed his stupid face through the driver side window.

It was a good thing that it was late, about ten PM at the time. The parking lot was fairly empty and the traffic on Highway 26 was very light.

Retard dad's kids screamed in his car. "Daddy!" They both yelled. They were teenagers, and they both yelled "Daddy!" So sad. I stuck my head through the broken driver side window and stared both of them down.

"Retard dad is coming with me." I said, in a calm and clear voice. "If you don't want to get hurt, you will both stay in this car and be quiet, until we get back." I had no intention to come back, but they didn't know that.

They stared at me in horror. "Am I understood?" I asked.

Blank stares from both of them. "Speaka engrish?" I asked.

Finally, one of them giggled and said "What...?"

"Stay here, and be quiet." I said. "Understand?" Neither of them said a word. Good start, at least they were too retarded to say much.

Retard dad was still sort of unconscious, his face covered in blood and drool from the blow to the window. I got a chain from the bed of my truck and wrapped it around his neck. Then, I wrapped the other end of the chain to the trailer hitch on the back of my truck.

I kicked him hard in the gut. "Notice me now?" I asked him in my most serious voice.

"What..." Was all he gargled out of his stupid face.

I got up into my truck and took off up the mountain with retard dad dragging behind, his face grinding on the pavement. I was watching in my rear-view mirror with glee and he thrashed on the pavement. I don't remember ever grinning that wide in my entire life. It was beautiful.

A couple miles later, I stopped on the side of the road, just to see what condition the poor retard was in. I had only gotten up to about twenty miles an hour, so he really shouldn't be dead yet.

"Notice me now, fuck face?" I asked him as he writhed around a little on the pavement. I kicked him in the gut a few times. "How about now?"

"Aggggggaagggggggg..." Was about all he could muster. His shirt and jacket were tore to shreds, but still hung on. His pants were tattered, shredded in places, but also still held.

"Lets see how your retard face holds up at fifty." I said as I kicked him square in the face. Got back in my truck and took off up the highway again.

After about ten miles and sixty miles an hour, it was hard to tell that there was a body being pulled behind me at all. It looked like just a string of dead meat pulp.

I stopped on the side of the road again and went to have a look at what was left of retard dad. Yup, just dead meat pulp.

"Damn..." I said to myself as I unhooked the body and put the chain away. "Now I could really go for a Peanut Buster Parfait."              
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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killeveryday.wordpress.com

Killing some douchebag on the riverbank

I was fly fishing on the bank of the Clackamas River off highway 224. It was cold as balls and raining like a motherfucker. I didn't mind because the fish were jumping like there was pizza in the air or something.

There I was, minding my own goddamn business, humming a tune, probably that goddamn wrecking ball song. Fucking Miley. Keep getting that cunt stuck in my head.

Along comes some douchebag down the hill from the highway. All dressed fashionable and shit. He had on some leather jacket, leather shoes, fancy jeans. Bling watch. I was wondering what the fuck he was doing out in the country.

Then the answer became apparent. His girlfriend, or wife, or whoever she was came screaming after him, down from the highway. "Hey asshole!" I heard her scream.

That bitch had better not be screaming at me. I looked back and she was running after the douchebag. He just ignored her and kept walking. "Hey!" She yelled again. This time I just tried to ignore them. "Stop, goddamnit!" She was determined to reach him.

The fashionable guy stopped in his tracks, finally. "What?" He said, wishing she would just leave him the fuck alone.

"How dare you just stop the car and walk away from me!" The bitch screamed.

Now, I have no fucking idea why these ass monkeys were having their little fit right in my personal space, but that's what they did. Not ten feet from me. I could see for a hundred yards in both directions and not another soul was out there. What the fuck. Get your own damn river to have a fight near. For fucks sake.

But no. They went on... "I told you not to sleep with that skank Linda." The bitch continued. "But you went ahead and fucked her anyway. I know. That bitch is crazy. But you just had to tap that ass..." And she went on and on like that for a while. I wasn't paying attention.

If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn those two were black. I mean, they just sounded black to me for some reason. But no, they were in fact upper class white punks. Early twenties if I had to guess.

The douchebag tried to explain the situation to the girl. "But I..." Was all he got out before she screamed at him some more.

I had taken about as much as I could stand, so I put my pole away, packed up my tackle box and started to walk back up to the highway.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" The bitch screamed back at me. I was just a random guy, minding my own damn business. Why the hell she decided that I was part of their conversation, I couldn't say.

"Excuse me?" I asked, barely breaking my stride. I wasn't about to get mixed into their drama. No thank you.

"Yea, you." She said, staring me down. "Get the fuck back here. You're the only witness to the bullshit Craig here is going on about." Fucker even had a black man's name. What the fuck is happening?

"Yea, I'm just going to head back to my truck. Looks like the rain isn't letting up any time soon. Good luck to ya'll." I said, and kept walking up the path.

The stupid whore ran after me. She must have been either on drugs, or just plain irrational. I couldn't tell. It actually sounded like she was starting to plead with me, instead of just yelling. "Come on." She said. "Just stop. Hear me out. It's not my fault..." She went on for a while as I stood in the path still facing the other direction.

It seemed that there was no way out of the situation but to deal with these two idiots. I suppose I could have just stabbed her right there in the path, but then that idiot douchebag might come after me. Fuck that. Two birds. One stone.

So, I said "Fine." And walked back with her to talk with the douchebag in the nice leather shoes. I had to admit, I kind of wanted those shoes.

We got to the river bank, where her boyfriend, or whatever, was kicking rocks with my nice shiny leather shoes. They were mine, goddamnit. I would make them mine. I think I was a little obsessed with those shoes.

"Hey!" I said to him when we caught up to him. "You'll scuff up my shoes. Stop kicking rocks, you idiot."

And suddenly their argument fell away and I took its place. "What? These are my shoes. I'll kick rocks if I damn well feel like it." He said.

I sat my pole and tackle box down. Opened the tackle box and took out a small knife that I used for cleaning fish. "I disagree." I said, with an evil grin. "Those are my shoes. Now, take them off."

"What the fuck? Fuck you man. Come on Shelia, lets get out of here before this psycho loses his shit." The douchebag said.

"Wait." She said. I guess, maybe she was still pissed at him or something. "Just give him your shoes. Just do it, and we'll get out of here." Like that would be punishment enough for sleeping with that skank Linda.

"Fuck." He said, exasperated. "Fine." He knelt down to take the first shoe off and I grabbed his neck and sliced it deep. He went down in a lump of shocked drool and blood.

The stupid bitch just screamed and stared at me, in shock. "What..." She managed to get out as I walked calmly over to her, placed my hand over her mouth and nose and patiently waited for her to suffocate.

I picked up the shoes from the douchebag. They were even my size! I was going to take his leather jacket as well, but it was all covered in blood.

So sad. It was a perfectly good jacket, damnit.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killeveryday.wordpress.com

Killing a stripper with a razor blade

I don't usually go to strip clubs, but when I do, I always bring a fat razor blade with me, for fun and games. It's one of those razor blades you get at the hardware store, wrapped in a little cardboard sleeve so you don't slice your goddamn fingers off. I always hope that some stupid stripper is just stupid enough to slice her own carotid artery for my amusement.

I went to the 505 club in Gresham. It's right off Burnside and it's not too busy most of the time. I got there at two PM when there's like nobody there. It was just me and one other booze hound sitting around the dancer ring.

I was the only one making any noise, however. I liked to let the dancers know that I actually give a shit. Not, just tipping with one dollar bills. Fuck that. I tip with twenty dollar bills. Them bitches notice my fat ass. They want to get to know me real good.

So, after her dance, this skanky stripper whore came up to me and asked me “Do ya want a private dance, sweetie?”

“Oh hell no.” I said. “I'd like to keep my distance, thank you very much.” Because, she was quite the skanky whore. I was looking for a little better quality in my private lap dance.

“Fuck you, asshole!” The stripper said as she walked off to the bar. I was hoping she wouldn't sick the bouncer on me, because they do that sometimes. Get all pissy. Send a bouncer over to ruff my shit up. But, I guess she was used to that kind of treatment because she just forgot about it and downed a few shots at the bar.

The next girl came to the stage and this was the one I was really interested in. She was young, blond, and most of all, stuipd as fucking hell. I'm not sure how I notice these things. It's not like she had a tatoo on her forehead that said “I'm retarded.” But, she did in fact have a tattoo on the small of her back, like a tramp stamp that read “No Ragrets.”

“Nice tattoo.” I told here when she came to pick up a twenty that I laid down.

“Thanks baby.” She said with a smile. “Got it a few years ago and it's still true. No regrets!” She exclaimed as she swung around the stripper pole.

“Damn, girl,” I told her. “You're perfect.” I said with a smile. And, I meant it. For what I wanted, she was perfect.

After her dance, she came over to me and asked me if I wanted a lap dance, and my reply was “Hells yea, baby.” I try to keep with the lingo. Stupid is as stupid does and all that. I followed her to one of the back booths and sat down for her to grind on me.

I noticed the old guy that was still left at the dance ring was looking over at us. “Mind your own fucking business!” I yelled over at him and he looked away, finally.

“Yea, baby. Now, we're all alone. What do ya like?” The stripper asked me.

I pulled the razor blade from my pocket and said “I want to see you bleed.” The stripper backed off of me real quick.

“Are you some kind of weirdo?” She asked with a smirk like ewwwww wierdo. And then she yelled over her shoulder “Hey Randy, we got us a weirdo over here!”

“Shut up.” I said and pulled five one-hundred dollar bills out of my front pocket. “Shut up, and these hundreds are all yours.”

“Nevermind, Randy. This baby is mine!” She hollered back to the bouncer and he turned around, back to his post.

“Here, take two hundred now.” I told her, and handed her two hundred dollar bills. “You can have the rest after I see just a little tiny trickle of blood. No big deal.”

She took the two hundreds and looked at the rest of the money, deep in thought. I thought she was having some kind of seizure. She just stared at the money for several minutes, like her brain was miss-firing or something.

“So, uhhh...” She finally said. “Just like, a drop of blood or what?” She asked. I had her by the hook now.

“This area right here. Just take this blade and just nick your skin just a tad, right here.” I said, tracing the carotid artery in her neck with my fingertips. “Just a touch of blood from there and we're done. Here, I even brought a band-aid for you.” I pulled out a few band-aids from my pocket and she smiled.

“You're so thoughtful.” She said, finally excited that she would get the money, because my request would be so easy. She took the blade from me, stripped the cardboard sleeve off it, all sexy like and pressed it to her throat just a tad. No blood.

“Just a little blood.” I repeated. Then, she did nick herself just a little bit. Not even a squirt of blood, just a spot. It wasn't even from her carotid.

She reached for the money but I shook my head. “That's not what I asked for. Just give me a little blood from this spot here.” I traced her carotid artery again with my fingertips. “Here, take another hundred, but please just nick that little spot on your neck and we'll all be done.” I said with a smile.

“Okay, sweetie.” She said, after a pause. “No regrets, right?”

“Yea, that's right. No RAgrets.” I said, exaggerating the misspelling with a smile. Then she took the razor blade and made a quick slice right through her carotid. Blood spurted right into my face and I'm pretty sure I came in my pants right then and there.

She started to scream but I cupped my hand over her mouth. I took the razor blade from her shaking hand and sliced the carotid artery a bit deeper, to finish the act. She bled out in a matter of seconds. I grabbed the few hundreds that I had given her and quickly dashed out the back door of the club.

Jumped into my truck and calmly drove to the exit driveway. Waiting for traffic to clear, I looked in my rear-view mirror, expecting to see the bouncer come running out with a gun or something.

Nobody came. Well except for me, of course. In my pants.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killeveryday.wordpress.com

Killing a fat bitch at Walmart

I fucking love Walmart. I wish there was one closer to my house, but I still don't mind driving twenty miles to the one in Troutdale. It's pure comedy. Oh, and good deals on shit too. But I really go there for the people watching. Comedy gold, I tell ya.

So, I went to the Walmart and just sat in a lawn chair that was on display near the check out lines. So much white trash, it's amazing. Droves and droves of white trash cattle just shuffling by me. Every so often someone would catch my eye as particularly white-trashy and I would just crack the fuck up.

People would stare and I would just say "Come on, look at that fat bitch! She's wearing shorts for christ sake. It's fucking disgusting." Or something like that.

Then theres the people walking by that have that look on their face that just screams "FUCKING KILL ME!" It's usually people with kids. Sometimes it's just a dude with an extra annoying wife or girlfriend and she's dragging him all through the store. Those poor bastards crack me up too.

"What?" Some black guy said to me as he walked passed. I was nearly falling out of my chair giggling my fucking ass off.

"She's not worth it man." I told him, hardly containing my laughter.

"What you say punk?" He asked. Looking like he was really ready to kill someone. His girlfriend was being that much of a bitch.

"What the fuck are you doing at a walmart, anyway?" I asked him, with a giggle. "You're black!" And after that remark, I really did fall out of my chair laughing. I mean seriously. Look around a fucking walmart. It's 99.99999% white.

Just then, his wild girlfriend appeared and punched him in the shoulder. "Stop messing with that poor white boy." She said and dragged the poor bastard away.

I was sad for a second, as I got back in my lounger. I was having fun with that guy. Was hoping he would swing at me or somthing. That would have made for some good fun.

Then, I saw her. The queen of white-trash Walmart. A big fat bitch in one of those Walmart scooters, with two small children. She was screaming at them "No! You can't have any cookies. Gimme those cookies!"

Okay, so kids can't have cookies. But she sure the fuck could have cookies. They were in a line to check out and her kids kept going batshit insane with all the cool stuff lined around the check out counter. Every kind of candy you can imagine, and even little toys and such.

One of her kids brought her a little plastic airplane which was like a dollar and she slapped it out of his hands. "Put that shit away!" She screamed at him. "You have more than enough toys at home." And she slapped his behind.

The boy screamed and started crying. She smacked him again "Shut the hell up, Bradly. Just wait until we get home and I tell your father how bad you've been."

Now this got me going. I swear my mother had used those same words to me just about every time we went anywhere without my dad. It was the standard threat and it almost always worked. Well until I got to about eight years old and became more of a man than my father ever was. But before eight, holy shit.

So, I took a little more interest in this stupid fat cunt. "Hey, leave the kid alone." I said, sitting up in my lounger.

"Mind your own business, asshole." She said to me. She hit Bradly a few more times just to show me she meant business.

I stood up and walked over to her. "Eat my ass, you fat cow." I said, as calmly as I could, just to divert her attention from smacking her kid.

"Oh my god! What did you just say?" She said, a bit shocked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I said EAT MY MOTHERFUCKING ASS!" I screamed into her face.

One of the best things about Walmart is that nobody there gives a flying fuck. Not the employees. Most of them just want to die. Not the customers. Most of them just want to get their shit and get the fuck out of the soul-sucking store. None of them want to pay attention to anyone screaming or having a fit, because then they might have to spend one more second in fucking Walmart. Fuck that.

So, my altercation with this fat cow went completely unnoticed from those around us. "How dare you!" The fat bitch said, shaking her finger in my general direction. "My kids are here. You watch your mouth, mister."

So, I looked at her little kids and said "See you little fuckers later." Then, walked out of the store. I needed to take that fat bitch somewhere, to beat the living shit out of her. Something told me that beating someone to death might actually get some attention from other patrons and even the Walmart walking-dead staff.

I smoked a cigarette outside the store while I waited for the fat bitch to come rolling out in her Walmart scooter. I saw one of her kids come out first, looking for something. He saw me there and came over. "Thanks, mister." He said, looking up to me with a smile.

"For what?" I asked, without really caring. I was pretty focused on the job at hand, watching for his fat whore mother.

"For standing up to mom. She gets like that all the time and I never know what to do. She just smacks me and I can never do anything about it. So thanks for that."

I smiled, taking myself away from my task for a second. "No problem, little man. I'll take care of her. Trust me."

The boy's mom and sister came out of the store and headed to their car. "Get over here, Bradly! Don't talk to that nasty man." And Bradly ran off to follow his mom to her car.

I watched them load their shit into their car, then got in my truck and rolled up behind them, blocking their car. The fat bitch was screaming something at me, but I wasn't listening, focused on my task. I got my gun out of the glove box, stepped out of my truck and walked over to the fat cow, still sitting in her scooter.

"Get in the truck." I said to her with a firm voice.

"What?!" She exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing? You're blocking my car. Move it now, mister."

I pulled out my .45 and pointed it at her face. "Get in the truck." I said again. "Or don't. Whatever. I guess I can just shoot you here and be done with it. Or you could get in the truck and see where this journey will take you."

Her kids both heard the conversation, and without hesitation, they both bounded up into my truck, waiting with a smile. "Come on, mom!" The girl said.

In silence, the fat bitch finally got up out of her scooter and waddled over to my truck. I opened the back door of the cab and she tried to hop in but was having a bit of trouble getting up into it. So, I gave her a good shove and she was finally in.

"Good." I said, as she fell face first into the back seat of the cab. "Now don't say another word, or I'll shoot you. That's a promise." I saw her open her mouth to say something. "No, seriously. I'll just shoot you in the face and dump you on the pavement right now, if that's what you want." And she shut her goddamn mouth.

I slammed the door in that fat bitch's face and hopped up into the driver seat. "Yer my hero, mister!" Said Bradly.

"Don't call me mister. Call me dude, or man, or dickhead, or whatever, just don't call me mister. Okay?" I said with a bit of an evil grin.

"Okay, dickhead!" He said, with a laugh.

I drove them to an abandoned building that I knew in the area. I got them all out of the truck and walked behind the fat bitch with my .45 at the ready. "Inside." I said and motioned to the door of the building which had always been unlocked for some reason.

We all got inside and I took the fat whore to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. The chair was already covered with blood from a previous kill and the fat bitch looked at it in horror. "Oh my god!" She said in shock, apparently forgetting about our deal. I guess she wanted to get shot.

So, I obliged and shot her in the shoulder. "I told you. One more word and I would shoot you." I said, and she shut her whore mouth and sat down on the bloody seat.

I tied her to the chair and then went to get some more stuff from my truck. "Don't let that bitch go anywhere." I told the kids. They were laughing and playing, throwing garbage at the walls.

"Sure thing, mister... I mean Dickhead!" Said Bradly with a giggle.

I brought back a baseball bat and a ball gag. Put the ball gag in the fat bitch's mouth and secured it around the back of her head. "Now, what should we do with this stupid bitch of a mom you guys got here?" I asked the kids.

"I dunno." Said Bradly.

"Shoot her again!" Said his sister. "Again, again, again!" She chanted.

"You sure you don't want to smack her around a bit with this baseball bat?" I asked. I wouldn't mind shooting the fat whore again and again, but where's the fun in that? Then, she'd be dead in a matter of minutes. I wanted this to last. I wanted the kids to actually learn something.

Bradly spoke up. "I'll take a swing!" He volunteered. I handed him the baseball bat and he took to his mom like a pro, most likely fracturing both her kneecaps.

"Nice job." I told him, and he handed the baseball bat back to me. I looked at his sister, who was giving her mom a very cold stare.

"Can I shoot her?" She asked.

"Oh, alright." I said, and handed her a smaller pistol, a .22 that I had in my back pocket.

She pointed the gun more or less at her mom, and pulled the trigger several times, missing each time. The eyes on the fat bitch got wider and wider and she started a muffled scream from behind the gag.

I was tempted to shoot her again, just for making noise, but I didn't. Instead, I helped the girl shoot her mom with better accuracy. I showed her the sights on the gun and told her how to use it. She pulled the trigger and finally landed a round in her mom's stomach.

"I did it!" She exclaimed with glee.

"You sure did." I said, and took the small pistol from her hand. "Good job. Now, it's time your fat bitch of a mom to die." And I went up to the stupid whore and bashed her head in several times with the baseball bat. She was quite dead after that.

"Now, that's how it's done, children." I said, cold as ice. The kids just stood there, motionless, with their mouths agape, staring at their dead mom. They were just having fun, before. Just joking around. But this was real. Their mom was really fucking dead. Their tiny little brains couldn't quite comprehend it.

So, I left them there, to drink in the reality. Walked out to my truck and drove home.

"Fuck me. I'm never having kids." I said to myself.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killeveryday.wordpress.com/

Killing a jackass on the highway

It's January, and there's not much snow on the west side of Mt. Hood, where I live. It's usually pretty cold and snowy this time of year, but not this year for some reason. So, my buddy Dan and I took a trip this past weekend across the mountain to the Bend area in eastern Oregon to ride our ATVs on some nice snowy trails.

All was well and good until our drive back home, over the mountain. I was driving the truck as we got to the base of the east side of the mountain, and it had already gotten dark. Visibility was shit. The white line on the right side of the road was covered in scatterings of gravel, dirt, and a tad bit of snow. The center line was nearly non-existent, covered also with dirt and grime.

Then the fog came which totally fucked my life. I mean, goddamnit. The road lines were fucked. There was nobody in front of me that I could follow. And now the motherfucking fog? Fuck me.

My buddy Dan was quietly reading his Kindle in the passenger seat. Just sitting there, not a care in the world. Motherfucker. "Can you believe this shit?" I asked.

"What?" he said like he was surprised there was someone actually driving.

"The fucking fog. Look at this shit!" I said, like my life was clearly fucked by the goddamn fog.

"Yea? So? It's a goddamn mountain, dumbass. What do ya expect?" he said, as if I'm a total fucking idiot for not understanding this simple concept.

"Fuck you man!" I said. "I can't see a fucking thing. This is bullshit."

"Whatever," he said, and went back to reading.

Just then, a motherfucking jackass started riding my ass with bullshit aftermarket headlights that were bright as fuck. I tilted my rear-view mirror to dim his lights but they still blared bright as fuck through my side mirrors.

"Fucking asshole!" I shouted into my rear-view mirror.

"Jesus christ, what now?" said Dan, perturbed at all the fucking interruptions. Can't a man read porn in peace?

"It's bad enough that I can't see shit, now I got this cocksucker riding my ass! Fucking bullshit aftermarket lights are blinding me to fuck," I said, apparently like a crying little girl.

"Oh my god... Stop yer crying and learn how to drive for christ sake," said dan, not even looking up from his porn.

So, I just sighed and took it like a man for about ten miles with that same jackass riding my tail.

A passing lane finally came up so I pulled into the slow lane and even slowed down to about forty miles an hour so the cocksucker would finally pass. He didn't.

"Seriously?!" I yelled at the rear-view mirror. "This cocksucker is seriously not gonna pass. Motherfucker."

"Jesus christ. Are you kidding me with this shit?" said Dan. I finally thought he was getting on my side for once. "Do I have to drive? I mean do you have some kind of problem, or something?" I guess he was still of the opinion that I was a motherfucking pussy.

"Shut up!" I said. "I fucking got this. If this cocksucker will pass already." But, he didn't pass.

Another ten miles or so went by and the same jackass was still riding my ass. I thought briefly about just stopping at the side of the road and letting him pass. Fuck that. If I did that, I really would be a pussy boy. All of Dan's fantasies would be true.

Another passing lane came up and again, I moved to the slow lane and got down to about forty miles an hour. "Come on, motherfucker. You can do it..." I said, coaxing the jackass in my rear-view mirror to pass.

The bastard actually got over to the left lane and started to pass. "Sweet, finally." I said, with a sigh of relief. But he wasn't fast enough. The end of the passing lane was coming up and he let off the gas and got back behind me.

"Motherfucker!" I said. Dan completely ignored me.

So, I said "Fuck it" and pulled the truck to the side of the road near the Frog Lake exit. The jackass fell in behind me on the side of the road. Somehow, I figured he would.

I grabbed my .45 from the glove box, got out of the truck and walked back to have a little chat with the cocksucker that loved my ass so much.

He must have seen the gun in my hand as I walked up to his car, because he started to peel out in the snow, in an attempt to get away. Fuck that. I put a round in the center of his windshield and he just stopped cold and stared in disbelief.

I walked up and tapped on his driver side window with the .45. He just stared in terror. "Open up or I'll just shoot you through the window," I said with a grin.

He rolled down the window and just went "Uhhhhh hi?" Like, this wasn't really happening. Like, am I some sort of hallucination?

"Hi there," I said. "Was that you that was riding my ass for like thirty miles with your bullshit aftermarket bright fucking headlights?"

"Ummm... Me?" he said, not knowing what the fuck was going on. Hoping the crazy person would just leave him the fuck alone. Not going to happen.

"Yea. I thought so. That was you. Fucking jackass. What's you deal? I gave you so much opportunity to pass and you just stayed behind me the whole way, taunting me with your motherfucking bullshit headlights." I was hoping for a real response.

"Oh, well I just wanted some tail lights to follow, you know. The fog and all. Can't see a damn thing out here." I guess he finally figured out that I was a real person and not some illusion and deserved an actual explanation. I appreciated that.

"Oh. Well, that does make sense." In fact, I had been trying to speed up the whole time to find someone to tail as well. So, his argument really did make sense. Maybe he wasn't a total jackass. Too bad, because by that point I was way past letting him go.

"Okay then," I said. "Get the fuck out of the car." Again he just stared at me like an apparition. I waited several seconds with him in a trance and said it again, this time with the gun pointed right at his head. "Get. The fuck. Out."

So, he got out, with his hands held high. "Put your fucking hands down," I said. Didn't much want someone driving by seeing a guy clearly being held up at gunpoint. With the shitty visibility and fog I doubt anyone would just see the gun, but they sure the fuck would notice some guy with his hands held up high.

He complied and put his hands down. "Now, march to my truck. Passenger side," and we walked to the truck.

Dan was still just sitting there in the passenger side reading his fucking kindle, not a care in the world. I opened the passenger side door and said "Dan, move the fuck over. You're driving."

Now, Dan is a perfectly normal person. He works in an insurance office for fucks sake. He didn't even know that I owned a gun. But, there I was, telling him to get over and drive while I held a big fucking gun to some stranger's head.

"What the fuck man?! What the fucking hell are you doing? Taking that guy hostage or something? Are you fucking insane?" Seriously, he had known me for over twenty years, and had no fucking idea I was stark-raving-mad.

"Just taking him for a ride. Now get over and drive. Don't make me shoot you." I said it with an evil grin so maybe he would think I really was insane.

"Jesus christ!" he said and finally moved over.

I shoved the jackass up into the front seat of the cab, to sit in the middle. I got in beside him and shut the door. "Turn off to Frog Lake," I told Dan.

"What the fuck for? What the hell are you doing?" he asked, clearly confused as to who the fuck he had been friends with for twenty years.

"Just going to teach this guy a lesson in good driving etiquette. Don't worry, just head to Frog Lake and shut the fuck up, okay?" and he did finally shut the fuck up.

We got to Frog Lake and I told Dan where to pull over. Near some picnic tables and trees. I got out of the truck and motioned with my gun for the jackass to get out as well. He just sat there in shock. "Do I have to say it again?" I said with clear intent, because with that he jumped out of the truck like a frightened child.

"Hey, Glenn. Seriously. Joke's over. Just let him go and lets get out of here." Said Dan. But I wasn't finished.

"Shut the fuck up and go back to reading your porn. And give me my fucking keys." I didn't want him chickening out and taking off without me.

"It's not porn! It's fan fiction, goddamnit." Dan was a big fat nerd and he loved his fan fic porn. He tossed me my keys and I shut the passenger door so he could get back to Sherlock fucking Watson.

I took the jackass to a tree and chained his right arm to it. Then I got my ATV down from the trailer and chained his left leg to the back of the ATV.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked the jackass, finally aware of his surroundings. He was really starting to panic. Like, I might actually hurt him or something.

"Well, see what's going to happen is I'm going to take off on my ATV that way..." I explained, pointing away from him. "And, either your arm is going to pull out of its socket, or your leg will break off at the knee."

"What?? Come on man! I'm sorry. I'm really sorry! Please. I can pay you. Whatever. Please!" he pleaded.

"Pay me? For what? Pay me for ripping your arm off? That's kind of stupid, don't you think?" I asked, in all seriousness.

"No, no! I'll pay you to let me go! Please. Come on. Just let me go! I promise I won't tell anyone." He was getting pathetic. So, I gave him a distraction.

I got some lighter fluid from the bed of the truck and squirted the jeans of the poor bastard real good. "Now what?!" he asked, his face even more shocked than before.

"Oh sorry. I really need to explain stuff more often. You see, you seemed a bit worried about me pulling your arm off with my ATV, so i figured I would give you a distraction by setting your legs on fire first." I explained it as clearly as I could.

"What?!" he screamed.

"Oh yea. And go ahead. Scream all you want. Nobody is going to hear you way the fuck out here," I said with an evil grin.

"Please. Please." He was really begging now. Crying a bit too. "Don't set me on fire. Come on. Don't do it. For the love of God."

And with that, I lit him on fire. I mean, if you're going to invoke the whole God thing, then you deserve to burn. "I guess God wanted you to burn," I said. "He sure the fuck didn't stop me, now did he?" And the jackass just screamed bloody murder.

I got on my ATV and revved it up something fierce. I tried to get the engine loud enough to drown out the poor bastard's screams, but it was impossible. He was fucking losing it.

So, I gunned it and sure enough, the jackass lost his arm at the shoulder. He bled all over the place as I did some cookies in the shallow snow while pulling him behind.

He was pretty much dead after that. I poured more lighter fluid on what was left of his body and lit it all on fire. "Next time, pass when given the chance, you stupid cunt." I said, as I spat in his dead, burning face.

I put the ATV back on the trailer, walked back to the truck and hopped in the passenger side. "Lets get the fuck out of here," I said and handed Dan the keys.

"Sherlock's dead," said Dan, with a frown. Almost looked like he had been crying.

"What?" I asked.

"He's dead. Watson fucked him to death. Can you believe that? Fucked to death. They were so good together," he went on. Pretty much oblivious to what had just gone down outside the truck, in the real world. He didn't even notice the burning corpse.

"You're such a faggot," I said.

"I know. Just for Sherlock though. If you tried to suck my dick, I'd punch you square in the face." He said, in all seriousness.

"Well, at least you have standards." I said, and we drove home.

==============================================
DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Killing a dickhead at Starbucks

Today, I went to Starbucks to get my usual coffee in the morning. I was patiently standing in line to get my coffee when I see a total dickhead cut ahead of everyone and start screaming like a madman at the poor barista behind the counter.

"This is WRONG, you stupid CUNT!" he screamed at her. "I said, no MOTHERFUCKING foam, bitch! Fix it now, goddamnit, or I'll have you fucking fired from this shithole."

I thought maybe this cocksucker should be cut off. No more coffee for him, seriously. But no. The barista politely took the coffee from him and tossed it in the trash. "Sorry sir. Right away." And she told her associates to get busy making his coffee.

"WHAT THE FUCK!!??" the dickhead screamed. "I was going to drink that, you stupid cunt. Now, you owe me TWO more coffees."

"I'm sorry?" the barista replied, clearly confused.

"You threw away my fucking coffee, you stupid cunt. Now make me two more. Snap, Snap. NOW!" This idiot was clearly out of his mind.

The barista, still confused started ringing up a sale for his second cup of coffee because, fuck man, he only paid for one cup of coffee and now he's demanding two.

"Fine, sir. Two of those coffees. That will be another $4.45," she said in her most polite go-fuck-yourself voice.

At this, the dickhead literally tried to reach across the counter and punch her in the face. He failed, of course, just flailing in the air.

I finally stepped in. "Excuse me," I said. "I'll pay for his second coffee. If you don't mind, sir, some of us would also like some coffee. So please step aside while they make your drinks so we can move this along."

The dickhead just stared at me with dead eyes. Like he wanted to choke me to death or something, right there in the line. "Fine," he finally said. "But those coffees had better be done when I get out of the shitter."

"I'm sure they will be," I said with a smile and he left to the shitter. A huge sigh of relief was heard from the rest of the people in the line.

"What can I get you?" the barista asked me. Now, I wasn't next in line. So, I stood back so the lady who was next in line could order.

The lady smiled at me. "Oh please, I don't mind. You deserve it for getting rid of that asshole."

So, I ordered my coffee, took out my wallet to pay and the barista smiled at me. "Oh no. This is on the house. For what you just did. Thank you so much." Her smile just beamed at me. Pretty sure I could have taken her into the restroom and fucked her brains out, if I was so inclined.

Instead, I stepped out of line, grabbed a handful of napkins and went to the men's restroom. I hoped that stupid dickhead was still inside, and also, that he had left the door unlocked like a fucking idiot. Sure enough, I turned the handle and it was unlocked. Walked inside and saw the jackass taking a shit.

"What the fuck?!" he said as he glared at me. "I'm a little busy here man, get the fuck out."

"Well, you didn't lock the door, so I assumed that meant you were allowing visitors." I turned and locked the door behind me. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the guy who's about to kill you with a handful of napkins," I said with a bow.

"What the fuck did you just say? Get the fuck out of here man!" he said, with a bit of confusion in his voice.

I walked quickly over to him and stuffed the handful of napkins in his mouth. Cupped my hand over his face and pinched his nose with my other hand. I've found that the quickest and cleanest kills are usually suffocation. No blood at all.

He thrashed on the toilet for a while as he suffocated under my pressure. The worst part was him shitting all over the back of the toilet while he died. No blood, but fucking hell. What a mess.

When I was done with him, I washed my hands and left the restroom, locking the door behind me so it would be a while before they found his rotting corpse.

Stopped by the counter to pick up my coffee that was finished and the barista that helped me earlier gave me her number. She smiled and said "Call me."

Life is grand.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Killing pastor Dave at my old church

I remember the very first time I wanted to kill someone. It was at church. Being forced to sit through an hour and a half, sometimes two hours of bullshit sermon every goddamn Sunday drove me completely batshit insane.

I was raised by very strict Christian Baptists. Not so much my Dad, but my mom was just obsessed with it. My sisters and I couldn't watch most tv shows, we couldn't listen to secular radio stations, and we couldn't even go to secular school. We went to private Christian bullshit school instead.

My mother dragged us to church three times every goddamn week. Three times! What the fuck? I mean we had prayer at every meal and my mother had us reading the bible every goddamn day so why go to so much fucking bullshit church?

I hated it. I especially hated our pastor for some fucked up reason. All I remember is sitting in a pew, listening to this faggot pastor preach a bunch of bullshit against my will. Falling asleep every few seconds because it was so fucking boring. Getting smacked upside the head from my mom because it was church, goddamnit. You don't sleep during church.

Fuck that. Right then and there I decided I wanted to kill someone. Not my mom, that would come later. It was that motherfucking preacher. If he wasn't so goddamn boring, I would actually enjoy the service. I wouldn't involuntarily fall asleep constantly and then I wouldn't get smacked upside the head by my fuckstick mom.

I think I was about eight years old at that point. I knew I wanted to kill that fucking pastor, but wasn't quite sure how. Then, I had a meeting with pastor Dave for my baptism. Apparently my parents hadn't baptised me when I was a baby. My mom was insisting that I be baptised, since I was such a goddamn good fucking kid. I really was. Learned all the fucking bullshit bible verses and all the stupid fucking songs. I did great at that stupid Awanas club thing mom dragged us to every Wednesday.

I was my mother's perfect little boy. Little did she know that at eight years old, I was planning my first horrific murder. I snuck out of the house at night when my parents were finally asleep and I rode my bike to the pastor's house.

His house was fucking HUGE. It had to have at least 5 bedrooms. Must have been at least four thousand square feet. Two stories and a three car garage. I had seen the car he drove to the church on several occasions. It was a very fancy car. Thinking about it now, I'm pretty sure it was a Mercedes-Benz. He got a new car every year.

Seeing all of that made me want to kill him even more. There's some bullshit bible verse about the rich not being allowed into heaven. It was funny because I didn't want to kill him just because I was a fucking psychopath. I wanted to kill him because he wasn't Godly enough. He wasn't worthy of his position of pastor. He was abusing his power and getting rich in the process.

And also, as I have already said, I just wanted to kill him because he bored me to tears during his sermons. And maybe just a tad because I'm a fucking psychopath.

Even during my baptism, he never touched me in an inappropriate manner. As far as I knew, he never touched any of the children. So, maybe he wasn't all bad. But still... A real pastor would drive a beat up old piece of shit Ford or something similar. Not a goddamn bran-spanking-new Mercedes every fucking year.

So, I decided that I would get my father's rifle and climb up into the rafters at the back of the chapel that would give me a good line of sight to the podium the pastor would be standing at.

I planned all this out. At eight years old. And now, after thirty years, I am finally going to carry out pastor Dave's sentence. Unfortunately, he doesn't work at the church any more. He has since retired, apparently. However, the church I used to attend as a child still stands to this day and it is quite vacant most evenings.

So, I drove to pastor Dave's house at about two a.m. and dragged his sorry ass out of bed. I drove him to the church and walked him up to the podium. Of course there was pleading and bible thumping words from him for a while, but I covered his mouth with duct tape because I really didn't want to hear it, after all the fucking bullshit I had to listen to from him over the years.

I strapped him to the podium with rope and kept him in the standing position, just as I remembered him from my youth. Only now he was just wearing his pajamas and not a thousand dollar suit. "Yes," I said. "That's how I want to remember you, pastor Dave. Just like that. Silent. Unable to speak and ruin my day."

He started to mumble something under the tape. "What? You trying to say something, pastor Dave?" Again he mumbled something. "What? You want me to kill you, pastor Dave? Oh, don't worry about that. I decided to kill you when I was eight years old, in this very church, sitting in that pew down there, next to my bitch of a mother." I pointed to the pew that our family almost always occupied every Sunday morning.

"Remember?" I asked. More mumbling behind the tape. "Of course you don't. You were too busy spending all that money you got from conning all those poor helpless souls that occupied those pews every goddamn week."

He mumbled again, something of a disagreement, I thought. "Oh, you're not a con man? Seriously?" Just then, I got a little angry. Tried to hold in my fury. I didn't really want to hit the old man, I just wanted to kill him and be done with it. "Seriously??" I said again, fuming just a bit.

It is true that I used to be a Christian. I fell hard for the con early in my childhood. Of course, it was near impossible to escape it considering that it was shoved down my throat every goddamn second of my childhood life.

I picked up my rifle. "If you want to believe in god, that's fine by me. I won't interfere. But when you start shoving it down people's throats, not giving them any choice in what to believe, not giving them any other options or opinions... I can't stand by that anymore."

And with that, I walked to the back of the chapel, climbed up into the rafters and shot pastor Dave in the chest. He squirmed. I could hear him screaming through the duct tape. I shot him again in the shoulder. More struggling.

I took my eyes off the sights and just cherished the moment for a while, as pastor Dave squirmed. I could have just shot him through the head and be done with it, but I wanted to shoot him like the eight year old me may have. So, I took aim and shot him a couple more times until finally he stopped squirming and was silent.

I got down from the rafters, walked up to the podium and took a picture of the dead pastor Dave. "Say 'Hi' to your sky wizard for me," I said and turned around and walked the fuck out of that place forever.

I imagined pastor Dave getting to the pearly gates and meeting st. Peter. Then, after hearing from st. Peter that rich fat fucks don't get into heaven...

Priceless.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Killing Chad Hall with a hammer and nails

Chad Hall was my arch nemesis at the last job I had. I hated him with every fiber of my being. Every time I saw him, I wanted to claw his eyes out with the backside of a hammer. I'm not entirely sure why I hated him so much. He just acted like he was better than the rest of us.

Cocksucking Chad Hall was a friend of the owner. They met at some health club or some such shit, and just hit it off apparently. I guess Chad Cocksucking Hall gave good head or something, because the owner hired him as a regular sales guy, then like a week later, the cocksucker was in management. Fucking cock sucker.

And then Chad "The motherfucking cocksucker" Hall, as he came to be known, became my direct manager. Just fucking kill me. The only reason I had the fucking job was because I had just got out of pound-me-in-the-ass prison and the state required me to have a job while I was still on probation. Motherfuckers.

So, I was stuck with the Chad. I decided then and there that if I ever got out of that situation, one day, I would return to repay that cocksucker Chad for what he did to me. Which was nothing really. He never really did anything. He just had this attitude that drove me fucking crazy. It's hard to explain, but trust me, the guy deserved all that I had to give him.

It has been over five years since I worked at that shit-hole car dealership. I figured it was about time I went back. So, I grabbed my tool box and hit the road for OneWay "fuck you in the ass" Toyota in downtown Portland.

I couldn't believe it. Chad Motherfucking Hall had become the General Sales Manager. Seriously? Fuck me. This has got to stop. The guy was the fucking Charlie Sheen of car salesmen, he just kept on winning.

Well, that was about to come to a drastic end.

I saw my chance when Chad went out to the side of the building for a smoke. Talking on his stupid cell phone like "Yea, I'm awesome. How 'bout you? Yea. I'm so awesome..." Cocksucker.

I walked up behind him and said "Hiya Chad. I'm baaaaack!" And smacked him upside the head with my hammer. Dragged him over to my van, shoved his stupid ass in and drove him out to my place for some good old fashioned ass rape.

No, fuck that shit. I wouldn't rape that cock sucker if he paid me millions and begged me on his hands and knees. Seriously. I hate him so much I won't even rape him. That's sad, really.

Okay, so maybe no ass rape, but goddamnit there's gonna be some pain and anguish, I can say that for sure. When I got him to my house, I tased him on the neck then dragged him into my shop. Then, I strapped him down to a chair with rope.

I had the chair set up against a support beam in the middle of the shop. So, I duct taped his stupid head to the beam. Just around his forehead and his chin. I wanted his head to be steady so I could pound some nails into it.

During the time it took me to secure him in the chair and to the beam, he did stir a bit from time to time. I kicked him in the balls a few times and tased him again so I could finish setting him up.

Once everything was ready, I put on my brass knuckles and slammed him in the face a few times until he finally woke up. "What the..." was all he could muster, as a mumble only. He seemed a bit confused.

"Oh what, you don't remember me? Yer good ol' buddy Glenn?" I said, with a shit-eating-grin.

"What..." he said, mumbling again.

I tossed some water on his face and hit him a few more times until he finally became alert somewhat. "Now, do you remember?" I asked.

"You!" he finally said. "I knew you were a fucking psycho!"

"Oh yea, you got me there buddy," I said as I shot a nail into his knee with my nail gun. "Yup, can't argue with that. Total psycho."

"Fucking asshole!" he screamed and I laughed and laughed.

"No, seriously... Tell me how you really feel." I laughed some more and put another nail into his other knee. "Feeling all superior now are ya Chad? Go ahead, tell me how much smarter than me you are. Tell me how successful you are and all that shit. I'm really interested."

"Fuck you," he said, seeming to accept that he was fucked and there was no way out. I punched him good across the face with the brass knuckles and knocked a few of his teeth out. He wasn't so smug after that.

Then the begging started. "Come on Glenn," He said. "Come on, let me go. You can't do this to me. I never even did anything to you. Why go through all of this?" Etcetera, etcetera. A car salesman still. Bullshit until the end.

"No, you never really did do anything bad to me," I admitted. "But you're still a fucking asshole. You still think you are better than everyone. Smarter that everyone. More successful..."

"I'm not..." he started.

"Yes you are," I said just before I put two more nails in his legs with the nail gun. "Yes. You. Are. Nothing you can say will save you from this. You are going to die a horrible death just because you were such a fucking smug bastard."

"FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!" he screamed in response.

I reached back to the bench and got a hammer and some nails. "How many nails do you think you can take to the head before you die?" I asked with a grin.

"Goddamnit Glenn. Stop it. This doesn't prove anything. This doesn't solve anything. Just stop." There he went using my name over and over as we were trained in sales. It's the first rule of thumb when you're trying to get someone to like you, or be on your side. Use their name.

"Eat a dick, Chad. The only thing that will stop what is happening right now is your death. Once you're dead, I'll probably stop fucking with you. Maybe. Okay, I'll probably piss on you or something before I drop your corpse in front of the dealership tomorrow. But that's probably it." He looked at me like he was listening. Like he always did to everyone. That fucking smug look. Like he knows what's going on. He's ten steps ahead of the conversation because he's so much smarter than everyone.

It's all bullshit. Fucking car salesmen. They all need to die.

So, I finally got tired of his mouth and shoved a rag down his throat that was soaked in gas. "Even try to mumble something and I swear to god I will light that rag and your insides will burn like a motherfucker." And that was the end of our conversation.

I took the hammer and nails and started banging nails into his skull. First, I put a few through his cheek bones. Then, I put a few through his eye sockets, angling down so they didn't enter the brain so much.

He screamed through the rag, so I lit it on fire and stood back to watch for a while as his face burnt. "Smile!" I said as I took a picture.

After the flames died down, he still wasn't quite dead yet, so i started in on the top of his head with the nails. Hitting the sides first, and slowly moving to the center of his head with deeper nails until I finally heard him croak.

Sweet, beautiful silence.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Killing some kids in a raft

I went up to the lake with my .22 rifle, just for target practice. It's great fun to shoot small critters with a .22 because they just explode in a poof of fur if you hit 'em just right.

As I was hunting for critters on the edge of the lake, I noticed two kids out in the middle of the lake in a small inflatable raft. What fun, I thought. I used to do the same when I was a child. So, I thought I would add to their fun and shot a hole in their raft.

I was laying down in the reeds at the edge of the lake so nobody could see me. But, I could sure see them. I have a high-power scope on my .22. I use it for competitions and such. So I look close at the two kids in the raft and sure enough it is sinking, slowly but surely. It also looked like I may have hit one of the kids in the gut or something, because there was definitely quite a lot of blood on his shirt. His buddy kept padding at it, getting his hands all bloody as well.

Might as well make the score even, I thought. So, I shot the other kid in the shoulder. Then, another round in the raft. The kids thrashed around and screamed for a bit. But, they were both losing a lot of blood and they lost energy fast. The raft was nearly all under water.

The kids sank with their raft, as their parents tried to swim as fast as they could to the center of the lake. I watched the whole thing in my scope. It was priceless. By the time one of the dads reached the area the raft sank, the kids were long gone, along with their raft. The dad kept trying to swim down to find them but kept coming up empty.

I saw on the news that evening that the two kids had drowned in the lake when their raft had got a puncture from a tree branch that was floating in the lake. Nothing was said about the kids being shot. Just a tree branch.

A fucking tree branch!? Retards.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Killing a GOR fangirl at the library

I pick up girls at the library all the time. It's easy, because i know what they are thinking just by what they are reading. For instance, today I saw a fat girl at the library reading a GOR book by John Norman.

The GOR series of books is about a bunch of female sex slaves and their masters. I can't imagine a girl reading a GOR book if they don't secretly want to be a sex slave. So, chances are good that they are freaky as shit and will do just about anything I ask them to.

So, I walked up to the fat girl and said "I'd like to be your master." I tried to muster the deepest voice I could manage.

She stopped reading for a second, and closed her eyes as if she was in some sort of fantasy world. "No you don't," she finally said.

I grabbed her hand and said "Come with me." She followed me into the men's restroom. We went into the handicapped stall and I said "Take off your shirt and your bra."

Sure enough, she took off her shirt and bra and got down on her knees. She assumed the position.

"Now, undo my pants and take my cock out, using only your mouth." I said, and she complied. She then started sucking my cock in earnest. I pushed her head back and slapped her across the face as hard as I could.

I said, "I didn't say to suck my cock, now did I?"

"No, master," She said with a grin. I slapped her again.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Stupid cunt. Did I say you could speak?" I waited for her to answer again, but she just shook her head. "Good. Now suck my cock 'till it's good and dry."

I hoped that I would feel her teeth, so I could smack her a few more times. I fondled her tits and pinched her nipples until the inevitable bite occurred. Then, I punched her square in the forehead which slammed her off my cock and into the hard tile of the back of the stall. "What the fuck!" She screamed. Not into the fantasy any more, I guess.

"You bit me, you stupid whore!" I said and slapped her face a couple times until she smiled again.

"So sorry master. Won't happen again," she said with a smile. And with that she gobbled up my cock once more. I shoved it deep into her throat and pinched her nose so she couldn't breathe.

I kept her pinned against the back of the stall with my cock down her throat and her nose pinched until she started flailing and gagging and slapping my legs for me to stop. But I just thrust her head against the wall a few times and finished choking her to death with my cock.

Funny thing was, during that whole struggle there wasn't even a nibble on my cock. Someone trained that girl well.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Killing an asshole with a shovel

I was driving down the road, on the prowl for a victim at about 2 a.m.. I passed by a girl who looked like she could be no older than 12, so I slowed down on the side of the road, next to her and rolled down the passenger window to talk to her.

"Hey, need a ride?" I asked.

"No, it's ok. I'm fine." She was clearly not fine; it looked like she had been crying. I thought she would fit the perfect profile of a young run away.

"Come on, it's poring down rain out there. I'll take you wherever you want to go. I'll even protect you from your parents, if you like. You don't have to go home if you don't want to." With that, she opened the passenger door and got in. I rolled up the window for her.

"Thanks," she said. "Dad's being a complete asshole tonight."

"Did you do something wrong?" I asked.

"No. He's just drunk as usual. Screaming at everyone and beating the shit out of my mom. I just want to see him die a horrible death. Is that so wrong?" she asked, in all seriousness.

"Not wrong at all. I know exactly how you feel, believe it or not. My dad was a drunken alcoholic asshole as well. One night, when he was beating my mom, I finally had enough and beat him to death with my baseball bat. Fuck with me all you want, just don't fuck with mom. After that, I ran away. I think I was about your age." I was trying pretty hard to get on her side, just to hear the rest of the story. I'm pretty sure an adult would see right through my bullshit, but a 12 year old doesn't know shit.

"I almost did it," she said, after a long silence.

"Did what?" I asked.

"Well, I got his gun." She pulled it out of her bag to show me. "I have no idea how to use it. Well, I'm pretty sure you just point it and pull the trigger, but I did that and nothing happened. I just don't know what I'm doing..." She started to cry a little more.

"Let me take a look at it." She handed it over and I checked the safety. Sure enough, it was on, so I switched it off. Then I checked to see that It was loaded. Nine in the mag and one in the chamber.

I handed it back to her. "Careful," I said. "It will work when you pull the trigger now."

"Thanks," she said, with what looked like the beginning of an evil grin. "Can ya take me back home then? I want to finish this."

"Sure," I said. She told me where she lived, and I turned the car around. I drove in silence as she fondled her lethal gun.

"Oh shit!" she said, as we pulled up to her driveway. Her dad was out in their front yard, holding a shovel. What looked like her mom was laying bloody on the ground by his feet. "What do I do?! What do I do??" she asked me in a panic.

"Shoot that motherfucker," I said as plainly as I could.

She got out of the car and walked towards her father, gun in hand. She pointed it at him and it looked like her whole body shaked. It was still poring down rain and cold as fuck. I didn't think she had the nerves to pull it off, so I just watched for a while.

Her dad walked towards her. "Don't come any closer!" she screamed. "I'll fucking shoot you! I'm going to fucking shoot you!" Like she was trying to convince herself. He kept coming at her at the slowest pace imaginable.

Finally, I got out of the car and stood, looking over the hood at the asshole with the shovel. Inching his way towards his daughter. Anger and death in his eyes. "Jesus christ, just shoot him already!" I shouted.

But she couldn't do it. She lowered the gun and shot into the mud. Crying her fucking eyes out.

FUCK, I thought. GODDAMNIT. It would have been so much better if this girl could do it herself. Oh well, I need the daily kill anyway. So, I walked up to her, grabbed the gun from her hands and put a round in her dad's leg. He came crashing down near her, hitting the mud with his face. I put a couple more rounds in his legs, just for the hell of it. He should suffer a little, after all.

While this was happening, the girl just stood there, in shock. Couldn't believe her eyes. I looked back at her and said "See how easy this is? Just pull the goddamn trigger. Easy as pie." I tried handing her back the gun but she just shook her head violently.

Her dad started screaming some bullshit at me, I don't know what because I really wasn't listening. I grabbed the shovel that he was still holding and started beating him to a pulp. I started with the legs, since there were already bloody holes in them. I smacked those holes good, just to be sure he felt some pain. Then I wailed on his back a few times. Even stuck the shovel blade deep in his spine.

He screamed his last breaths, and it was awesome. I finally took a huge swing with the shovel and caved his skull in. He was dead, but I kept at his head a few more times just because he fucking well deserved it.

I looked back at the girl and said "Now that, is how it's done." Then I walked back to my car. As I started up the engine, I noticed the girl go to her bloodied and battered mom. Apparently, she wasn't dead. She sat up and cried with her daughter.

"Isn't that cute," I said to myself as I drove off with the asshole's severed head in my passenger seat.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.

This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Killing a hiker with a bungee cord

I went for a hike to a nearby lake on a trail by my house. The lake is only about 3 miles by trail, and it cannot be accessed by road at all. Makes for a perfect spot to do any dirty deeds.

When I got to the lake, I found a woman who was making breakfast by her campfire. I told her a story about some assholes who stole my pack and ran off with it. So, she made me some breakfast. Pancakes and eggs.

After breakfast, I stood up, and wandered behind her, while sipping my coffee. Then, I kicked her face into the fire and stood on her neck while she screamed.

I let her up, turned her over, and with her scarred and burnt face, she whispered to me "Why... Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I can," I said. Then, I threw the rest of my hot coffee in her face. The coffee she made me just five minutes earlier. She screamed, and it was beautiful.

I wasn't really interested in raping her, because she was older, maybe late 40's or early 50's. I just wanted to toy with her for a little while. So, I just tied her up with some of the bungee cords she had on her backpack and laid her down by the fire. I sat next to her and poured myself another cup of coffee. "Want some?" I asked, with a smirk.

"No thank you," She said with a shaky grin. It's one of those grins where you're not sure if you should scream, cry, or laugh at how impossible your situation is. She just could't comprehend it. It's probably a good thing she declined the coffee, because I would have just thrown another cup in her face. Smart woman.

"Usually, at this point, I'd rape you, you know. But, I'm not really that interested." I told her, without a care in the world.

"That's nice," she said as she started to cry a little. I almost felt sorry for her. For like a half second, I almost thought about not killing her. Hell, I probably could have left her in that state, tied up next to the fire and she may have died due to the elements or wildlife anyway. But, where's the fun in that?

So, I finished my coffee and grabbed one more bungee cord from her backpack. I went over and found her sobbing quietly. "Don't worry, it will be quick," I said. I wrapped the bungee around her neck. "But not entirely painless," I said with a giggle.

I pulled the bungee tighter and tighter around her neck until she was finally done thrashing. Took a quick picture, grabbed her backpack and hiked back home.

Sometimes, the simple deaths are the most satisfying.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.
This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Killing a cop for fun

I really despise cops with a passion. Every time I see one I just want to punch them in the face. Then, I want to stab their fucking eyes out. Maybe cut their pig nose right off their face.

So, I'm in the hardware store picking up some tools that would work well for tearing some skin off some poor bastard. And I find a stupid pig cop harassing some poor cunt because he thought she stole something. So I sidle up to him and ask in my most polite voice "What the fuck is your problem piggy?"

"Mind your own damn business pal," he says, with a smirk. He turns back to the girl to keep pestering her.

"Eat my asshole, you dirty fucking pig," I said as I spat in his face. I figured that would get his attention away from the poor shoplifter.

"Want a piece of me, asshole?" said the little piggy.

"Fuck off." I said, and started to walk out the store, to my car. I figured that he would probably follow me out if I ignored him. And so, he did.

When I got to my car, I turned around and saw him right on my heels. I pulled out my taser and jabbed him in the neck with it. He went down like a bag of bricks, like most people do. Dragged him into the back seat of my car and then went back into the store to finish purchasing some much needed hardware. Gotta make that pig squeal.

On the drive home, he woke up just a little bit, so I smacked him in the face a few times with one of the big ass hammers I had just bought. Broke a few teeth or something because he was drooling blood something fierce after that.

Tased him again when I got home just to make it easier to lift him inside and down to the basement. I strapped him to a hand truck and rolled his ass right into the house. When I had him down in the basement, I took off all his clothes, and strapped him in a standing position up against a load bearing beam in the center of the basement. Tied a noose around his neck and pulled it taught to one of the rafters above.

To wake him up, I tossed a cup of water on him. He only stirred a little, so I hooked up the car battery and shocked the fuck out of his testicles. He was wide awake after that.

"Holy shit!" he screamed. "What the fuck are you doing, man? I'm a goddamn cop, you know. You can't mess with the police, man. They'll get you for sure. NO, PUT THAT FUCKING HAMMER DOWN MAN. FUCK NO GODDAMNIT..."

This pleading of his made me grin. So cute. "What, this hammer?" I asked, with all the attitude I could muster.

"Fuck man, yes, that fucking hammer. What the...?!" he stammered.

Then, I smashed both his kneecaps to a pulp. He screamed the whole time and I just laughed and laughed. "You cops are great," I said. "I should totally do this more often." More screams.

He started to plead with me after I had cut off most of the fingers on his left hand. "Oh please, man. Please, just let me go. I got a wife and kids, man. They need me. Just let me go and I swear to God that I won't tell anyone. Seriously. Please, man..." he went on and on like that. Cracked me up.

I just laughed and put a few of his severed fingers up his rectum, just for the fun of it. Then I attached the jumper cables to his tiny little cock and watched him squirm and wet himself for several minutes.

"Goddamn, this is fun. Aren't you enjoying yourself, piggy?" I said, with a smile.

"FUCK FUCK FUCKING AHHHHHHHHHH!" was all he said, as he still convulsed and squirmed from the cables on his cock.

"Priceless," I said as I took a picture. "Just priceless."

After a few more minutes, I took the cables off his cock. Then I took a pair of pruning shears and cut off his cock and balls. "You look famished." I said as I shoved his cock and balls in his mouth. He tried to spit them out just as soon as I put them in, so I crammed them farther down his throat and put a ball gag on him so he couldn't spit them out. I thought he might choke to death, but it was worth the risk. I just didn't want him dead quite yet.

I pulled off his little piggy nose with a pair of pliers. Just little pieces at a time. All the while saying "... and this little piggy went..." bla bla bla. So funny.

After the nose removal he was really having trouble breathing, because his nose holes were just covered in drooling blood. So, I loosened the straps that held him standing up against the beam and just let gravity finish the job with the noose. His knees couldn't hold him up because they were thrashed so he just sank into the noose and probably choked on his cock and balls at the same time.

It was quite a show.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.
This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Killing a whore with duct tape

Every time I read somewhere that someone survived some crazy accident because humans are so resilient or humans are hard to kill or whatever, I take it as a challenge.

Humans are easy to kill. Just use duct tape.

I found this stupid whore walking along the side of the road at one a.m.. I slowed down, keeping pace with her, and rolled down the passenger side window.

"Up for a date?" I asked, flashing a couple hundred dollar bills in my hand.

"Sure sweetie," she said. She got into the car and grabbed for the hundreds.

I smacked her in the face with a big-ass wrench that was sitting in my back seat, for just such an occasion. She didn't black out right away. "Auuugggg," was all she said for a while. Blood trickling down her forehead.

So, I smacked her 3 or 4 more times with the wrench, just for good measure. So much more blood but no more "Auuugggg," thank god. I really hate it when they try to talk.

Got back to my place and dragged her down into the basement. Stripped all her clothes off and duct taped her face down on an old rusty bed spring I had down there. It's like a mattress but without all the dainty cloth and shit, just the nasty springs and boards. Makes it easy to tape them bitches down or tie them down to it.

I wanted to see if the crazy bitch was actually alive, so I grabbed two vice grips from the work bench and clamped them down on her nipples as far as they would go. A little bit of blood and finally, lots of screams. She was alive and thrashing like a fat trout.

I live pretty far out in the country so I told her "Oh yea, bitch. Go ahead and scream all ya want. Love it. Nobody can hear you way the fuck out here anyway. Knock yerself out. Seriously, scream yer fucking head off."

But the stupid cunt stopped screaming. Like she's trying to piss me off or something. So, I get a knife and start cutting into her asshole. She just kind of shutters. Crys a little. "You know, this isn't near as much fun if you don't do your part. If you're not going to scream, I might as well just kill you now and get it over with. I can rape your dead asshole, I don't give a fuck."

Now she screams. A real good one too. It was one of those screams that stood the hairs up on the back of my neck. Fucking awesome. "Yea, just like that. Perfect." Then I got out my camera, pointed it at her howling face and said "Smile".

After a few minutes she simmered down to a whimper again so I decided it was about time to go for it. I cut some more into her asshole with my knife. Cut into the sphincter so there were deep cuts all around the edge. Then I put some salt on the wounds to make her scream more while I fingered her butthole.

She was screaming like a banshee and choking and bleeding like mad so I decided to end it with a bang. I fucked her asshole as violently as I could muster for a few minutes. But I didn't finish. I went and got the hot poker from the fire and shoved that in her ass with the blood and the salt and more screams.

Then I fucked her ass some more and finally finished to her sobbing moans. When I was done I was pretty sure she had passed out, so I just got some duct tape and wrapped her whole face up with it so she couldn't breathe.

She woke up fast and tried to struggle, but soon enough she was just a dead whore. Death by duct tape. What a way to go.

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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots.  It's just a goddamn story.
This blog can also be found at http://killingeveryday.com
Check out my Tumblr http://killingeveryday.tumblr.com

Introduction to Killing Every Day

I have always loved stories about serial killers.  In fact, when I was about 13 years old, my mom asked me what kind of job I would like to have when I got older.  I told her "I think I'd like to be a serial killer."  Needless to say, after that I spent a lot of time in therapy.

Lately, I have tried looking for good serial killer books and have mostly come up short.  There are tons of books with killers in them. Crime is like the most written about subject in the world, well aside from sex anyway.  The problem that I have with these books is there is so much fucking exposition!

I really don't give a flying fuck that some guy is wearing a hat or that it is cold outside or that oh look a cat walked by, or that it's raining, or that my scarf feels so wooley, or what-the-fuck-ever.  I DON'T FUCKING CARE!  Just get with the killing for fucks sake.  Is it wrong that all I want to read is the blood and gore?  The bloodier and gorier the better!

I'm sure people will think I am just looking to get off on some snuff porn or some such shit but no...  I just love reading about people being tortured, raped, and brutally murdered.  It doesn't turn me on, I just fucking love it because I am sick and depraved.

But it seems that every goddamn novel that I flip through just has page after page after motherfucking bullshit page of set-up and exposition that I really just don't care about.  I mean, I actually get offended and pissed off that I have to skip past all of this bullshit to get to anything meaningful.

So, it has come to this:  I am going to write some sick and twisted rape and murder scenes for my own depraved amusement.  Since no other writer has the balls to do it.  Please, if anyone reads this shit, and you know of a good slasher writer, please send me an email and let me know about them.  I will be forever in your debt.

Until that time comes, I will have to kill some poor fuck every goddamn day with my writing.  See you all in hell.