Routine
I am a killer plain and simple. Why beat about the bush and pretend I sell insurance or wash cars. Lies are for the weak. I should know I spend my time killing them. I, the killer of the liar and the traitor. What a moral job. When I get to heaven God himself will thank me personally for my contribution to cleaning away the scum. And who is the latest piece of filth to be annihilated ? Who knows. I have no interest in names, just faces. What is the point of getting to know a mans name when you'll never use it.
It's the usual cliched scam. I meet a guy in a crowded bar/strip joint. We go over the deal, he hands me a photograph and address. I study the photograph for a few minutes, slugging mineral water and ice, letting the guy get nervous.
When I'm finished freaking the guy, we move into a back room. He leaves me at the door and goes over and whispers to an elegantly dressed man surrounded by beautiful women. The man in the sophisticated garb, motions for me to join them. I step towards him on automatic pilot. Not seeing anything, not thinking anything. Just following the same old routine.
The women giggle and stroke the mans face. He smiles and hands me an envelope. I open it and count the money inside. I count it slowly, studying the man and his accomplice with a well hidden eye. Waiting for one of them to make the wrong move. Once
I'm satisfied everything is in order I leave to complete the job.
I won't go into the details of the killing- it's tedious. What do you mean that is the main selling point of the documentary ? How is it ? The public want to hear about blood and guts in grotesque detail. I see...
Well in that case you'd better go interview someone else. And while were on the subject I want you to understand that I will not tolerate the word Assassin being used to describe me or what I do. It conjures up,sophistication and romance. There is no ne of that in killing. Just a hole in the head and distraught family and friends.
No, I'm a killer and that's how you shall refer to me. I don't care if you've already called the documentary 'THE ASSASSIN' and spent millions on advertising. That's your problem. Your boss won't be happy ? That's too bad.
You know I've only been with you for what, less than an hour and already your eyes are melting into mine and infecting me with the virus that makes you see what you see. What I'm trying to say is your getting in my face. Get me. You want me to stop wasting time. Why are you on a tight schedule? You are. Well that's too bad man. You kinnda people always have tight schedules.
Yea so I'm being paid well for doing this documentary -so what. I don't need the money. Doing it for vanity ? Oh no my friend. I'm doing it to tell the truth about killing; to structure it in such a way that you and your editors will never be able to distort any part of it without destroying the whole thing. Thankyou and the same to you -but with a cruder sentiment of course.
What kind of gun do I use ? There is only one type of gun - the one that kills. What do you mean the documentary will loose credibility if I don't say what type of gun I use ? Look man, by the time your audience has stopped viewing this documentary they won't be bothering about the kind of gun I use, just the death and misery it caused. And just one more thing before we go on. All that stuff about killers being this sophisticated guy, who is a bit of a ladies man are false. Killers are as much cross section of society as any other group. Your local killer could be anyone; the old lady in the flat below, the traffic warden giving you a ticket, the child asking you the time and so on. Killing is in everyone's blood.......
Talk about my first killing, okay. It happened when I was ten. A school teacher kept hittin on my friend and generally bullying kids who were'nt down with his low-life academic bullshit. So I decided to teach him a lesson.
He was a heavy drinker and every friday night could be found in his favourite pub, slumped against a bar. There was an alcove round back where empty bottles were stored and that's where I waited. At closing time he emerged from the pub, stinking of real ale and talkin loads of drunken shit. I tapped him on the shoulder and as he turned in a slow, clumsy movement, I smashed two empty beer bottles over his head.
So he's laying there all groggy, blood pouring from his head, real messy. But not messy enough. I desperately wanted to flick out my blade and serve him up right there and then. Yet resisted the temptation and coaxed him back to consciousness. He smiled when he saw me and called me a good kid. He asked me what happened and I told him he'd been in a brawl. He called me a good kid again, then handed me some money to buy him a drink. I pocketed the cash and handed him one of my own mixtures of ground glass and lager - bottled exclusively as a cure for those who abuse the power vested in them. He downed three of them and I put him in a cab and went home happy.
Next mornin at school the teachers were all running around, solemn faced and grimacing. Later, in a special assembly it was announced by the sombre headmaster that the teacher had died from a stomach complaint during the night. Then went on to give an address were sympathies and wreaths could be sent.
What do you mean my treatment of the teacher was sick ? No my friend what he did was sick. Or are you of the view that it's okay for a man of thirty five years to regularly use violence against children ? So you believe the teacher has a responsibility to curb unruly elements for the safety of the whole class. No, no don't tell me the next bit, let me see if I can guess what your gonna say. I reckon you'll send the youth away for counselling to some under cover paedophile, masquerading as an expert in child psychology. You would do just that! You know what man, you should be short listed for the asylum.
What's this ? A script. Why do I need a script. To spice up the story ? Are you insane ? This is supposed to be a real life documentary, not a cheap psycho-thriller. What do you mean the public want a subtle, under current of slow, burning unease to flow through the show ? Well if that's what you want then you'd better go interview someone else, because here there ain't no slow, burning nothing, just pure factual consequence, after pure factual consequence. A theme ? Yes there is a theme, but it wavers and unravels at it's own pace and in it's own direction. Of course I realise I should adhere to the continuity instructions. But the fact remains, that at times I may change the subject if I'm bored or have a more urgent point to make.
Did I ever get emotionally involved in any other killings since I sorted the teacher ? Yea, but only once. It happened one day when I was cycling across town. I hear a commotion from one of the cop road blocks that abound in my city. There was severa l cops surrounding a terrified black family, grandmother and all. They tell the teenage boy to get out. As he opens the door the senior cop grips his throat and throws him to the road. The father tries to protest, but they pistol whip his arse and throw him into the back of a pig car. The senior cop by this time has pushed the teenager up against the car. His eyes blaze with power and his teeth gnash. You know the usual tough behind a gun, cop bullshit. "Turn out your pockets nigger." He orders the sobbing teenager.
The boy trembling and confused does so, producing small change and a crumpled telephone number. The cop dashes the money to the floor and reads the number, demanding to know who it belongs to. The boy tries to explain it's the phone number of his tutor at college, but the cop has already made his mind up. "Your a fuckin lying crackhead. This is your dealers number." And so on. By this time the mother is out of the car and tearing into the cops, demanding they leave her boy alone.
She's thrown to the ground and cuffed by three bitches in blue, her face twisted with fear and confusion.
I watched the whole family processed, brutalised and thrown into the judicial mincer. And for what- havin a black skin.
Boy your really trying my patience. What do you mean because of the disadvantaged nature of their lives, blacks are more likely to commit crimes than whites ? Oh come on man surely you can do better than that.
How stupid of me of course you can't. For a second there I thought I was talkin to an intelligent man- instead of you, the insane fuckin moron. I'm wrong on both counts. Oh so your not a insane moron, your a liberal thinker who believes in equal rights for all people. Pardon me. How come then you don't equal those rights when it comes to criminalizing a whole race, eh ?
I'll enlighten you on who the real criminals are, seeing as the mud in your eyes is distorting reality. It's the gutless politicians and red- neck police chiefs who make all this shit so bad. Fuck it that's a lie. It's all of us. Every last one of us sorry arsed lows is to blame.
Go back to the story about the family. Why ? Is the truth to basic for your sensitive little mind. Hey man don't even think to cut your eyes at me for one minute- got that. I said have you got that ? Ah what the hell.
Anyhow the story follows thus. The family get taken the short distance to the pig station and I follow. I check out the cops who did this shit and memorise their flabby, soiled faces.
Later that night I go to a bar frequented by the cops from the station where the family is held. They're all in there, supping and bragging about the bullshit they usually brag about. Anyhow I spy the chief cop who started the shit with the kid. He's all whisky- faced and mouthin at how he smashed around the boy, and the weak bellied shits in the bar find it really funny, especially the cluster of black cops who laugh louder than everyone else. By this time the tension is hittin on me and I don't like it. See usually I'm cool, you know don't emotional and all involved like I already told you- but this blatant display of cowardice really eat me up.
Anyhow I control my rage and wait for the right moment. It comes when the senior cop decides to go take a piss. As he's standing there all fat and shrivel-dicked, I pull a pair of pliers from my pocket and clamp his dick. Why are you wincing man. The pig-shit beat on a kid. Oh but I forgot you believe authority figures have the right to do that. Yea I forgot about the shit with the teacher and all that. Silly me.
Anyway so the pig is all clamped and screaming. So I shut him up with a mouthful of gun. I pull him around slowly, so he's facin me and ask him if he's havin a good time. Suddenly the pig has nothing to say -except of course the usual incomprehensible babble about mercy and some other shit. I lead him out back and we walk over to a wooded area. There I get a firmer grip on his dick and wrench it from it's housing. Jesus you should have the mother fucker scream. Anyhow he slumps to the floor all starry eyed and vacant, mouth quivering and phlegm-slobbin. I'm sure you get the picture.
True to form the pigs in the pub rush out and on seeing me holdin a gun to their guvners head, freeze. I order them to put down their weapons and they do so on back up commands from the screaming, cockles freak squirmin at my feet. Instantly I gun them down and leave their senior shit to bleed to death. Simple.
No burnin sense of unease, no mysterious twist or self indulgent display of prose and rhetoric. Just death by gun, plain and simple.
What do you mean that's disgusting ? Of course it's disgusting. But their disgustin people and deserve only the best brutality can offer.
Have I ever killed any woman and kids ? No way man. Everyone may well have their price my friend -but I ain't everyone. Sure I've been offered very lucrative deals to dispose of women and kids, but I decline on principle. Anyway I always feel it's best to leave the slaughter of kids and woman to the real experts in khaki or blue. Yea man, your friends the great up holders of democracy, their best suited to that remit.
Bitter you bet I'm bitter. Ain't you ? No of course your not. Your the kind of guy who sweeps away bitterness with your dynamic drive towards ambition. Trained in every way to deny your emotions and so on. Alright there's no need to raise your voice to me. I can hear you perfectly well. Your manner is beginning to irritate me. That aggressive people- management streak in you is ugly. You should iron it out, really.
I should take a look at myself before I start to doubt anothers emotional capabilities ? Why? Because as a killer I should be a cold, calculating psycho. Stop me if I'm wrong but didn't we go over this ground earlier. You know when you stated that a killer has to be a particular kind of person.
You want to dig a little deeper into my psych -ok, so dig. No I did not have violent fantasies as a child. No I did not come from a home where love was absent. No I did not to any of the shit your gonna try and pin on me. What about you, did you encounter any of these scenarios ? No ? Don't bullshit me. Your defiantly the kind of guy who suffers from every complex under the sun; insecurity flourishes in your heart like an all conquering pestilence. Yes you are right my friend I'm no mind reader. I don't have to be. The truth is written in big, dayglo letter heads in your eyes.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, so anyone can keep a straight face. But like I just said your eyes give away everything. I should know I study how people act when I corner them. I always tell them; you can straighten up your face into indifference, but you can't keep the fear/lies, whatever out of your eyes. And that's what I'm sayin to you man- I can see you in hot, grimy close up and believe me man it's a depressing sight.
No it hasn't slipped my attention that the subject of this documentary is me and not you. I just think your life is so much more interesting. I love the synthetic quality you exude, the bullshit you spout and the desires you suppress.
Tell me man, have you ever had the urge to molest kids or wear women's underwear ? No ? Come on man, don't try and get all evasive on me. I want to know. It's none of my business. Yea I can appreciate that. Shame you couldn't apply the same rule when you made that programme about the homeless. Hey your face has gone all pasty and your eyes have reverted back to those big dayglo letter heads. So come on don't insult my intelligence. The film you made about homelessness helped to hi-light the problem and educate people bout the housing crisis.
I see.
Then why did you devote a third of the programme to unravelling the sexual antics of the street sleepers. That's not correct ? Oh come on man I watched the programme three times, so don't try lay that lie on me. This isn't relevant to today's filmin-it's about as relevant as your homeless, sex feature.
Where do you wank Mr.Tramp in the bushes at lunchtime when the park is full of lunching office personnel or do you wait until the city has cleared, then work your pecker until it shoots a frothy gush over the marble steps of the town hall. It's a val id question ? You blow my fuckin mind.
Okay, okay listen to this. Next time you do a profile of a politician or some kind of business executive, I want you to ask them how, when and where they sexually gratify themselves. No I want to know. I believe it to be of the upmost importance. Without it the profile wouldn't work.
Yeah sure we can go back to talkin bout me, sure we can. What do you want to know next ? You want to know why I contradict myself so much ? Sorry I don't understand the statement. Could you be more specific. O right so the fact I started off sayin I was unemotional- detached from the killin contradicts my later statements ? Obviously you haven't been payin enough attention to what I've been sayin. Look I don't want to run through it all again - just be satisfied with this; I, like all of us am full of contradictions. I say one thing one minute, then do the exact opposite the next. I'm sure you recognise that trait. I mean it shines like a fuckin diamond from your face. Come on man don't deny the truth. You mean to tell me every time you stare at your reflection in the mirror you don't see a ton of bullshit lookin back at you. Oh of course I forgot. Your one of those real sussed out people; someone who has really worked out life.
At least you don't kill people for money ? What's that supposed to do, make me feel bad in some way ? Like I should shrink into a guilty shell and dredge my conscience. Is that it ?
Earlier you asked me what gun I use right. Well let me show. I feel personal experience is better for the soul than... well to tell you the truth I'm not sure what experience is better than. But you know what I mean. Here take the gun, let the metal mould into your hand. Feels good yea. Makes ya feel stronger than you've ever felt before right - wrong. A man that holds a gun is weak. Yea I count my self as one of that flock. Although havin said that I can step from behind the gun and deal with situations with my bare hands. You know kill people without the convenience of a heated bullet.
Just as an aside I'd like to point out that in the beginning of my career I used my hands to disconnect the brain from the stem - but as my reputation grew I was snowed under with contracts, and really didn't have the time to wrestle with necks or smash skulls- the gun, for all it's cowardly connections, seemed like the logical step to take. You know nice and quick. Plus of course it saved me a packet in laundry bills- like when you cave in someone's skull man it can ruin your shirt and I ain't one to be standin in a launderette for half the day getting out stains. Know what I mean.
Mind you I do miss the artistic aspect. Give you an example, okay. One time I shoved broken glass up some diplomatic arseholes, arsehole, then sowed up the whole bloody mess with flux meltin from a hot iron.
Hey man cut out the grimacin shit. You said you wanted me to give an example and I just did, now your moanin. Remember what I said before about you havin a diamond -shine contradiction, well I was wrong. You got half the worlds diamond industry in your lips alone.
Wow you've lost your temper. What a guy you are. I bet you feel like blowin me away right here and now yea. Well come on then man do it. I always been of the opinion that it's bad to bottle up your feelins. Best to get em out in the open, makes you
feel a whole lot better.
That's right point the gun at my skull, train the barrel on my temple. Feels good yea, makes you feel so powerful inside, so thoroughly invincible. Come on man don't be shy, let your finger flex on the trigger if you want. Though remember, too much pressure for too long and boof, brain and bone salad all over the set.
Come on man you've got your chance to kill me-to really give this lousy documentary credibility. Come on man do it, just think of the adulation you'll receive from the press and public. Why you could even be in line for a Good citizen medal. Just imagine the six o'clock news headlines.
Top documentary director kills killer.
Yea that's better I can see your eyes changin. Your getting the feel for it now. See like I said earlier we're all potential killers.
Why do you want to give me back the gun man ? Because I tricked you into provin my point. Fuck you. Look at you, all weak livered and shakin. Your a real shaper and a total waste of your old mans, cold, greasy spunk.
Wow I knew that would get good old, temper, temper back again, a boilin and a seethin. Now remember to hold the gun steady before you plunge down that unsteady road of red hot, temperamental maladjustment or you could end up shootin your foot.
Now stop all that shakin and put the gun to my temple like I just showed you. That's right, let the metal melt into the soft skin, let your mind get used ta the feelin of predator. You feel like a lion don't I know it. A king with a kingdom and all it's subjects grovelin at your feet.
Yeah that's right soak it up, let the finger relax and get all hot and sweaty, so it's nice and unsure on the trigger. Can you feel the urge to see what would happen to my face if you fired at me right now. Imagine the mess it would make. All that spongy, grey jelly shit, ruinin the carpet and getting all over your studio equipment. But then imagin how good you'd feel, how utterly powerful and clean; energized to the point where you can feel the spunk hot on your trouser leg. Oh christ man don't take me literally. Jesus you are an A 1 sicko. You put a gun to an unarmed mans head and it makes you shoot your load.
Give me that gun here.
Your pathetic. You were defiantly born to be a total ignorant with a loud mouth, big opinions, fat bank account and a shrivel, piss-weak mind. I should kill you now and do the whole world a favour, but lucky for you no ones offered me payment to do so. Though in your case I'll make a special exception.
Shoot you. Oh no I'm not going to shoot you. That would be too easy, and besides I feel like a little art. You should be flattered that your goin to receive such a privilege. After all most people don't even know I've killed them. But you your gonna know.
Get up of your knees, and god damn it take your slobberin, tear stained face of my trouser leg. Yea and I'll knee you in the face again if you don't get off the floor and face me one to one. That's right take a sly swing. It's about all you can do. Shit a knife. My, my you do surprise me. Not a bad lunge - not bad at all. Your pretty nimble on your feet. Whoops keep your guard up or I'll punch the other tooth out.
Excellent, almost perfect, the way you parried there and ended up cracking your spine against the angle of the wall like that. Could you show me it again. Nice turn, shame you stabbed your own palm though.
Sorry did I break your concentration with that solid jab to your stomach or was it the right left combination or maybe the succession of left hooks and upper cuts that caused the momentary lapse?
What does it matter. The point is you and me are learnin. Your learnin how ugly, painful, humiliating etc violence is and I'm learnin how positive and beautifully aesthetic it can be when used against such a blatant low-life as yourself.
Come again I didn't quite catch that. Oh I've broken your right arm - here let me make it a pair. Theres nothin worse than body asymmetry. Don't you agree. I said don't you agree! For christ sake man I'm startin to loose my patience with you. What are you going on about now ? You actually believe the collective agony of two broken wrists, a broken nose, three cracked ribs and a fractured skull is pain enough. Since when have you been an authority on the subject ?
Just because your flirtin with a little agonized indulgence, don't mean you know pain. Have you ever seen your mother, crumpled on a hospital bed, rottin from the inside, vomitin bowel after bowel of shit and greasy cancer? And make no mistake when I say shit, I ain't usin some general term - I mean shit, like you know the brown stuff in your arse. Cause unlike you and I, she had no bowel to discharge her waste and was forced to shit out of her mouth.
That's pain you mother fucker. Yea real fuckin pain. And you know I was naive enough to believe I could never feel so low again. What a fool.
But now I'm switchin my lowness to you; concentratin every cell in my body to makin sure you understand the true meanin of pain. I won't provide you with some wishy washy example, crafted from text books and inane theories, no I'll give you the pure
article. But not today.
Hey I had you goin for a minute there didn't I. You really thought I'd start my programme right now. No, no, you misunderstand. See by you not knowin, the when and the where of our next liaison, it makes everything so much more interesting.
I can't leave you like this. Of course I can. Your legs and ankles are intact ain't they. There not. Why is that ? Oh right I understand; when you tried to stab me you dislocated your right knee and broke several bones in your left ankle.
I see.
Well that puts a whole new perspective on the procedins. Does that mean I'm gonna call you an ambulance ? No way man I've got places to go, besides I think it's better you just lay here until someone comes or you starve death, which ever.
I will do somethin for you though, give a little advice before I depart your unappealin side. If I was you I'd choose the later option, cause when I return to continue your education, starvation and broken limbs will seem like a veritable paradise.
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Updated Thursday, 04-Mar-2004 14:58:34 PST