The Living Room

I awoke in a mess of a mess. My head was spinning from all the screaming that was going on a half hour ago. Certainly one of the perks of murder is the silence that follows when all you can hear is your heart and only your heart beating. So soothing. My hands were sticky from blood and inner sauce and as I looked around my living room I thought of the irony as no one in there was doing any living except for the few flies that have gathered. And is that really living? With their crazy eyes and their dirty wings looking for death and shit all day. I study the flies for a few hours and notice their patterns and the letters they spelled out in the air like 'cotton' and 'crank'. Something smelled. I crawled on all fours through my matted shag carpet to find the odor and sniffed about the bodies and stared into their faces. The look of death scares people more that death itself I realize. The shock that sets in truly looks like surprise. Surprise that nothing follows this life and w e all just 'pop' into the air leaving one final thought behind as the realization that all the hours that we spend praying couldve be in front of the TV or fucking which at least seems to have some purpose. Growling at the anger of this realization I set my teeth deep into the face of one of my guests and start pulling at the flesh tearing by whipping my head back. A chunk of flesh rips off in my teeth and the dead head flomps down on the floor unaware of its violation. I pause looking at the wall with a nice hunk of cheek hanging from my teeth. I stay perfectly still wondering if the neighborhood simply on the other side of the wall can sense the bad vibe emitting from my domain.

I crawl to the window and peer out between the shades. Two children play a paddleball game across the street. An older woman walks an older dog. A car travels by beeps and waves at the children. A mailman walks stupidly with his bag of useless bad news for the people. I slowly chew the flesh in my mouth like gum and enjoy the scene. It's like a dream. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion and then slower and slower. I can see the paddleball traveling through the air like its cutting through jello. The jumps of the children last for seconds on end. I can see the gravel spitting up from the car tires and hear the cristling of the concrete. The dogs soft pads thud along the ground and the fur of the animal drifts up and down on every step. A greenish tint takes over the sky hazing the landscape and the sun fades into grey. A door across the street slowly opens and a man steps from the inside and stretches on his porch. The grass seems to be bubbling in waves as the children drop their paddles and lazily turn toward me. I look toward the woman and her and the dog are staring at me both smiling sickly smiles. The man in the house comes out of his stretch and begins walking toward me. The mailman is closer than I gave him credit for -he's focused on my eyes. As I stare into his face I see his raised upper lip is exposing green gums and crooked sharp teeth. Everyone is moving toward my house the children giggling in my brain as they approach. I'm not liking the feel of this.

I back away from the window and trip over one of the bodies. A dead hand snaps around my ankle as the window breaks inward. The dog charging toward me with lightning speed in slow motion and a green mist follows him into my living room making it hard to breathe. Another dead hand tangles its hand into my hair as the children climb through the window laughing behind their reddened eyes. I kick at the dog as he launches himself at me. It takes the full force kick unnoticed and sinks its teeth deep into my groin. The mailman and neighborhood people are stepping through my window as I feel the fingers tangled deep in my hair begin to dig through my scalp and tangle into the folds of my brain. Icey clam soaks through my skin as the children begin biting at my fingers chewing them off and laughing. How must I taste to my uninvited guests I wonder. Considering my history and the most recent activites- my flesh must seem so pure to their warped palates.  


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