Everybody knows the best way to dispose of a body is to feed it to pigs. Or so I wrongly thought as I mused on the latest topic of fucking idiocy my office pod sisters embarked on.
For once they’d bounced onto a subject I could contribute to. Stupidly I‘d jumped in without thinking. You see they hadn’t thought about it at all. Their tiny bubble heads had never contemplated the horrors of life, or what exactly you would do if you one day flipped and smashed one of their empty heads through a glass door, severing an important artery.
I am not a violent person. I may exude the aura of violence, but you have to; it protects you if you’re prone to a less than sugary outlook on life. I frequently sit and watch crime drama or real life documentaries, on a constant search to work out what makes a person do that, or try to solve a mystery. It is pure coincidence that as a result I know many ways to kill a person. Everyone should know the basics.
Not if you stick your head in the ground and shout “Kim Kardashian’s exercise tips” apparently. Sigh. Oh you pretty things.
There are things every person should know. If you cut people up, don’t flush it. Acid won’t destroy it all. Burying things in a basement will cause a stench. If you meet a guy on Craigslist who sounds too perfect, he’s almost definitely a psychopath. Never wall up a cat unless you want to go mad and kill your family. Avoid hotels in isolated areas. For God’s sake, rub the lotion on your skin. Oh, and never take a knife to a gun fight.
You cannot help but be surrounded by murder, it’s a preoccupation. Could you be pushed to it? What would you do if attacked? Does that man shadow you as you walk down a dark street? Is that cabbie licensed? If you laugh at Man Utd’s entertaining decline one time too often, could it lead to spousal homicide? Be aware people, it could be you.
It astounds me that there are large portions of the community that really do not consider the wider world, those fringes where humans are pushed into moments of madness, right through to the more committed predatory beasts. The extremes teach us more about ourselves than all Piers Morgan’s Real Life Story bollocks. It is interesting, shocking, depraved, eerily logical and stupid.
Yet showing such interest or knowing about these things leads to sneers and fear. “You are such a Goth.” (I may wear black, but I am not a true Goth.) “You are a witch.” (Don’t believe in magic, sorry.) “You’re just weird.” (True, but for things you have no idea about.) “I bet you’ve killed people.” (Only in my mind, and right now you are being shovelled in the face.) The difference between me and them is that it may well take a lot more for me flip into actual violence as I know the many consequences and mistakes that will get you caught. If you know what murder actually looks like, well, you wouldn’t. It is a lot less picturesque than films would have you believe.
Oh yeah, and if I do flip, you’d better run. I always plan in advance.