First Kill
You know that scene in Ginger Snaps? You know the one where that oversexed werewolf chick just parades around the school halls and no one can't stop looking at her? Yeah, that's me on my first day after I got turned into a demon; I walk around the police station like I own it and people can't get enough of me. Granted, they did that before but God, the attention's intoxicating.
Gus is looking at me like I finally figured out who to get high off pineapple spikes (still working on that, Gussiness) but really, he's immune to my new pheromones. Everyone's looking delicious now and I even assign flavors to them: Buzz tastes like Honey Buns, Jules must be peaches and cream, the Chief's aged wine or some refined shit like that. But the one I want the most is one Det. Carlton Lassiter; he smells the sweetest of them all and I can't tell why. Jesus, even his cologne as he berates for the eleven-billionth time is driving me up the wall. He's different from the population...he has something else...did his eyes-nah.
Still, my tummy's rumbling and Shawny wants food now. Bambi's only good for the snack but I want something less gamey and more rapey...like that guy that attacked 2 girls after roofing them. So I sweet-talk the guard out of his post (something about the Monsignor of Versailles needing an escort) and lock the door behind him. The guy's named Robin Pitcher, sad name for a headstone, and he has the smirk on his lips that I want to do wonders to. He asks what's going on and I tell him my name and my clairvoyant profession and show off a little by pointing out he's married...or was, semantics.
My skin's tingling in anticipation as I unlock his cell and step inside with Pitcher. He asks what I was doing and I smile a bit; the way he's asking is the same he'd use to lure his victims to drink with him. I reply, "What do you think? I'm giving you the Santa Barbara Police Department Salute." He understandably freaks out when my eyes slit but he probably didn't notice because I took off my shirt and pushed him to a wall. Part of my brain is screaming what the fuck I was doing but the rest shushed that part quiet by telling it that it was a bad guy, no one would care.
Once again I smile but now it terrifies him, fear rolling along his muscles...I love it. Wow, where did that come from? I may have alpha-male issues but that might be from my dad. Oh Henry, you'd be so proud (and probably disgusted) of your boy. I break his arm in two place, toss him to his cot and sit on him. Before he can even scream, I bite his throat, crushing his vocal cords and finally get my first taste of human flesh. It's slimy, stringy but DAMN, it feels GOOD. He's convulsing, trying to call or help that will never come when I jam my newly formed claws into his rib cage. I can't help lick the blood that's flowing from his mouth and rip out his left shoulder...
By the time I'm finished and my stomach's full, there's not much left of Robin Pitcher other than a head, a hollowed-out torso and half of every limb. I should feel terror, I should be horrified by what I've done...but I'm not. If any of Dad's lessons stuck, it was the desire for justice; I took out a parasite from this lovely city. In fact, come next month, I'll be back here, in lock-up, munching on another criminal that would've escaped justice.
There's a local legend of some other demon that does this and the snooty mothers' council tell their children that if they misbehave, the Boogiepop's gonna get them. Well, don't worry, kiddos, this guy only eats bad guys.
Gus is looking at me like I finally figured out who to get high off pineapple spikes (still working on that, Gussiness) but really, he's immune to my new pheromones. Everyone's looking delicious now and I even assign flavors to them: Buzz tastes like Honey Buns, Jules must be peaches and cream, the Chief's aged wine or some refined shit like that. But the one I want the most is one Det. Carlton Lassiter; he smells the sweetest of them all and I can't tell why. Jesus, even his cologne as he berates for the eleven-billionth time is driving me up the wall. He's different from the population...he has something else...did his eyes-nah.
Still, my tummy's rumbling and Shawny wants food now. Bambi's only good for the snack but I want something less gamey and more rapey...like that guy that attacked 2 girls after roofing them. So I sweet-talk the guard out of his post (something about the Monsignor of Versailles needing an escort) and lock the door behind him. The guy's named Robin Pitcher, sad name for a headstone, and he has the smirk on his lips that I want to do wonders to. He asks what's going on and I tell him my name and my clairvoyant profession and show off a little by pointing out he's married...or was, semantics.
My skin's tingling in anticipation as I unlock his cell and step inside with Pitcher. He asks what I was doing and I smile a bit; the way he's asking is the same he'd use to lure his victims to drink with him. I reply, "What do you think? I'm giving you the Santa Barbara Police Department Salute." He understandably freaks out when my eyes slit but he probably didn't notice because I took off my shirt and pushed him to a wall. Part of my brain is screaming what the fuck I was doing but the rest shushed that part quiet by telling it that it was a bad guy, no one would care.
Once again I smile but now it terrifies him, fear rolling along his muscles...I love it. Wow, where did that come from? I may have alpha-male issues but that might be from my dad. Oh Henry, you'd be so proud (and probably disgusted) of your boy. I break his arm in two place, toss him to his cot and sit on him. Before he can even scream, I bite his throat, crushing his vocal cords and finally get my first taste of human flesh. It's slimy, stringy but DAMN, it feels GOOD. He's convulsing, trying to call or help that will never come when I jam my newly formed claws into his rib cage. I can't help lick the blood that's flowing from his mouth and rip out his left shoulder...
By the time I'm finished and my stomach's full, there's not much left of Robin Pitcher other than a head, a hollowed-out torso and half of every limb. I should feel terror, I should be horrified by what I've done...but I'm not. If any of Dad's lessons stuck, it was the desire for justice; I took out a parasite from this lovely city. In fact, come next month, I'll be back here, in lock-up, munching on another criminal that would've escaped justice.
There's a local legend of some other demon that does this and the snooty mothers' council tell their children that if they misbehave, the Boogiepop's gonna get them. Well, don't worry, kiddos, this guy only eats bad guys.