| 11~3~99
Gripping the handle firmly, I brought my hand back and thrust the knife in to the top of her head. I wanted to carve around the perimeter of the brain pan, but dicovered the knife to dull. Should one use a serated knife or sharpen a standard blade? Kirsten showed me how to use her electric knife sharpener. Step 1, plug in. Step 2, insert knife. Step 3, pull knife out, flip, and repeat step 2. Beauty. Sharpened and honed, the knife had no problem removing the top of the head. Once the top of the head is removed it is important to shake and gouge all their insides out. It isn't enough to just stick in the knife, you must hollow them out, let them know how it is and how they will be. Stomp out their guts if you must. The next step was to carve out vacant eyes, perform a nose job and get that horrible, empty, grin to look just right. More like it had been forced up by fish hooks in the corner of the mouth than actually pushed up by the muscles as an indication of amusement. Then, I stamped out another, Then, Kirsten took a stab at another. I took an old one that had been grinning that vacuuous grin for too long and threw it to the ground where it stared beseechingly up. Something was wrong. The lighting. I lined up their heads and lit them for proper affect. Even the old one on the ground. Perfect. Gutless, afraid, grinning through the twilight. Now they are only vague atrocious representations of their former selves. Good.
"50 on the lime and 50 on the burgundy," she smiled sliding forth the flyer for the St. Michael's Bingo and Raffle. Doesn't she know it's killing him? That old lined face, so cheery, beyond retirement. Nothing to do but play bingo and screw wealthy septuagenarian suckers out of their lives and money.
Light shines out the sides like brief flashes of heaven's brilliance and glory breaking through the sulfuric atmosphere of Hell to light his toil. 58, 59, 60, 61, the counter counts the copies. A small plastic device that fits into place on the side of the machine like a key into a lock. It's only pupose to count the number of copies made. That is all it has ever done. That is all it will ever do. I don't know if they actually make copies like a Kinko's at the Xerox office in Honolulu where the mad gunmen shot up his coworkers. They probably don't. Too bad. The psychology of the gunmen would be so much more interesting if they did. The Post Office must be feeling pretty good about all this. Going Postal is blaise. We've had folks go Loto, Educational, McDonald's, and now Xero. I think it was in a Borges story, there was a line, "I abhor both copulation and mirrors for both have the capacity to create more men." |