Patti

I had always admired your beauty, he softly muttered against the shimmering paleness of it all. With each bated breath the same aroma burned his nostrils reminding him of the past several hours and how they would reflect his life from this moment forward. Laying there perfectly still, preserved, beautiful forever from now on. On a plate served to him like an animal in the wild. There would be no further struggle no more hardships he had seen to that. Nothing would come between them ever again. His mind is racing now from the hunger, images from the events preceding this ultimate coupling, him twisting that top off till it almost snapped then discarding it across the counter. Spread like the finest lunch he could imagine. His fingers tingle just a little bit remembering plunging the knife deep once, twice three times and when he was done licking it clean. He seems so proud of his accomplishment.

Without warning the sound of his cell phone erupts in his shirt pocket. He stammers for a moment angrily answering interrupted from his work. Hello? The voice that replied was familiar to him, “ Hey you fucking loser how was your date with Patti? “ asked Skeeter. The nosy shit, how he just wanted to pick up that skateboard and the next time he made that god damned honk honk sound just cave in his empty fucking skull. Skeeter the shit faced mosquito always on his skin just hovering and pestering him. Constantly drilling him to ask Patti out when in all honesty he had been over her for years now. He had more pressing matters to deal with. His life's work had finally begun and this was just another endless interruption. It was fine Skeet, he sighed. Silence filled what seemed like an inescapable vacuum between the phones and between them. He realized he couldn't get out of this without divulging more information. He needs to hurry though before all his work goes to waste and there's still the matter of cleaning up. With a heavy sigh he relents; it was nice Skeet we went and saw that remastered Smash Adams film. We grabbed a few beers afterwards talked for a bit waxed all nostalgic like then we parted ways and I came home. Silence still was his only response. You sure that's all that happened man? Skeeter probed. More anxious now he replied, yeah man we just went home. Why do you ask? Did she make it back ok? Silence. Ok man, Skeeter trails off yet he can still hear him talking to someone else Nah he says they just saw a movie had a few drinks and split, I'm sorry Roger I didn't know you two were a thing or I wouldn't have. Muffled arguing follows and he considers just hanging up his phone when suddenly Roger comes on the line, Hey man listen I know you didn't start this but I certainly am gonna finish it. You better hope I don't find out you pulled anything funny, Funnie. He grows agitated and responds, listen man, I don't even know what to tell you. Maybe if you treated her better she wouldn't run off all the time. You've always been a shit Roger and if you hadn't got her into pain killers she'd be off in school doing something instead of whatever it is shes doing now. So FUCK YOU man. He slams the phone on the counter cracking the screen.

He has to remember his breathing and pace himself, not lose control and succumb to the voices that used to dictate his life all those years ago. For a split second he thinks of putting a belt on his head and he drives a kitchen knife through the palm of his left hand. The scream he lets out it seems might be enough to wake old Porkchop up from his sleep. The belt feels like it is getting tighter and he screams again twisting the knife. You have been dead for years you stuffed FUCK!! The whole room is buzzing and vibrating while colors assault him in intrusive ways. He falls to his knees and begins searching through his pockets sweating and sobbing. He finds the container holding his Haldol and crams two capsules into his mouth forcing them down with his own saliva. He soon notices he is counting in his head. The room settles and he slowly rises gathering his composure in small steps. He looks at his hand, no smirky British agent or super hero dictates anything to him the world is once again the silent all encompassing womb of entropy he remembers it to be. Everything is in it's right place.

Following a quick stitch to mend his appendage he returns to where it all began, that pale cream color, laid out begging. Still slightly trembling he pauses to settle himself one final time. Then with his left hand placed over he plunges the knife in again and slices symmetrically. He deserves this it's been a long night the mosquito and the klutz aside he had to spend time with that insufferable woman Patti. The truth is she had thrown herself at him, perhaps in some last ditch effort to save herself from what she had become but he rebuked her advances and sobered her up and sent her on her way. She was smart to leave befo...The doorbell rings and again he frowns frustrated at the endless distractions.

He throws the door open , What!? Roger!? He quickly shrinks back and frowns harder. Oh Mrs. Dink I'm so sorry I didn't mean to yell at you I thought you were Roger. Her face he remembers was so purple and full in his youth now she is smaller somehow a shell encasing a nearly burnt out exhausted woman. She smiles politely at him and he knows she forcing it. Oh Douglas, they still haven't found Bud. I was hoping maybe you had heard something , anything you two used to be so close. I don't understand why he would just leave me. She begins to sob uncontrollably and all Douglas Yancy Funni can do is hold this poor broken woman in his arms. He can pretend to console her. He can never offer her more though because he is beyond that now. For now he will coddle her and sooth her then later later he will finish flaying the skin from Mr. Dink's corpse.