Ben C. O. Grimm

"I mean to stamp out the demons that crowd my dreams every single waking moment. At night it gets even worse. The walls turn to pale lilting flesh, intersected with varicose veins ready to burst and splatter me with viscous ooze. I go out and roam the neighborhood with a nylon stocking fitted with a brick. I swing it over my head and hit the old uncouth bastard over the head with it for making a mess of my garbage every morning. I crack his skull and fork out the brains, still warm and sticky. I fry them in oil and sell them for popcorn. I follow the credulous little kids to watch them eat it. I smile at their faces, warped by disgust and terror. They spit out it out, sit still for a while. And then they puke, hardly able to control their undulating bodies. I stand behind them and piss all over them, while my dog barks incessantly and bites the kids' legs. I kick them out of the alley and collect the reeking puddles of vomit. Then I go home and make a cake for my mother. The pungent stench from the oven is indescribable. The cockroaches huddle together in a corner and oscillate wildly. I crush them under my shoe. Then I put them into the blender and use them for cake topping later on. I say 'hi' to my blind mother and masturbate in front of her face, waiting for her to say my breath smells bad. I make a sneezing sound and blow my load on her face. She says 'gesundheit' and takes out a hanky. Then I give her a piece of cake. 'Aren't you having some?' she asks, and I say 'Yes', making smacking sounds and humming with pleasure. She gulps the cake down, because she's a mean and greedy bitch. Her face shows how the acid vomit burns her gullet. Pieces of cockroach stick to her tongue and teeth. She drops the plate and throws a fit. I rush her out of the nursing home in a wheelchair. I yell 'She only needs a bit of fresh air' to the alarmed staff. I take her straight to the cemetery where my father's buried. She pestered him to death and lives off of his money. While she's screaming for water, I push her out of the chair, onto the cold slab of marble. I put a pocket calculator next to her and tell her to call me when she feels better. I put the rest of the cake on the seat of the wheelchair and leave. I go back to the nursing home to get the dog. I take him to the forest, grab his back legs and smash his head against a tree. I bury my fists in his quivering skin and lift him up. I hold him over my head and invoke the gods of lightning to strike me dead on the spot. I dare them, but I know thy will not mess with me, because I know Deus Imperator, ruler of their empire and indebted to me because I managed to give him an alibi for the holocaust. I cut the dog open, still barely alive, and scoop out his entrails. I bury my face in them and swallow his kidneys and liver. I manage to keep them down long enough to make it back to town. I find a crowded restaurant, filled with corrupt town officials and their well-screwed staff. I stand next to a table and ask for a drink of water because 'I don't feel at all well'. Then I spill my canine dinner on top of their filet mignon with fries on the side and leave the restaurant, laughing out hysterically. I return home and cut my wrists. I spray the walls with my blood until I feel the life leaving my pale body. I lie on the floor and blurt out 'Kyrie Eleison'. Just before the lights go out, I can see a new draft of cockroaches making their way toward me. Tiny napkins and complacent grins. I want to point my finger at them and yell 'Fuck you!', but I have no power. I have no will. All I have is a few bars of Mozart and freshly decorated walls. It's evil. I need to lose these thoughts. I need to purge myself and become whole again. Help me. Be a kind soul and put an end to this godforsaken slaughterhouse inside my skull. Please! Please!! I beg you!"

"I'm sorry", the hare-lipped understudy says, "I think you misunderstood the question. The survey question is about previous occupations."

© Ben C. O. Grimm