Blood on the sidewalk. Watch your head. Into the car. Off of the curb. Down the street. There goes the criminal. This time some wetback shot his wife with a colt, sawed off the head, arms, and legs. He cleaned out the neck and had been found plunging his penis into it. Blood all over his testicles, guts all around, her diamond ring still on her finger. Pity, I was just going to give him a fine for parking on the wrong side of the street. Now he would face a trial, face his family, face eternal damnation because of his sins. In our state the death penalty is always a probability, especially in cases like this. Our president must be getting a chubby from shoving them in as soon as possible. Death row is moving faster than ever.
He was silent for most of the ride. I thought I saw a smile on his face. Most would find it disguisting, but I just didn't care. Everyone on the force is so commited, it sickens me. On more than one occasion I've thought about running in with some tear gas and standard issue .45's and just fucking wasting them all. Clean cut, good guy, all American offcer. To see them smiling each morning, is so horrible. To see them smiling tomorrow, with a fucking hole in their heads, so right.
"How much to let me out of this thing?" he said.
Let him out? Seems right. Wouldn't affect me at all. Noone would ever have to know. He's no worse than me. Tomorrow morning I was planning something big. I would would wake up my wife with gunshots. She would see our kids, our wonderful little angels, dead in the basements. A scream would be heard through the house. And then I would come up behind her, and slit her fucking throat. To see the blood on the walls, her lifeless body. I had trouble deciding whether or not I would rape her corse. Probably. Afterwards I would drive the piece of shit SUV the department gave me 90 MPH through the suburbs, siren on, at six in the morning. I would ram the vehicle through the glass and into the front office, killing our bitchy little secretary. Next would be the rest of the force, they would fall like flies at my hands. In their last moments they would wonder "Why?", "Why is he doing this to us?". No reason, just because. After that I would probably hijack the tank from the surplus yard and see where it takes me.
"Hey man, you hear what I said?"
Of course. I dropped him off behind the local scrapyard. I told him to stay off the freeways tomorrow, that's where I'd be with the tank. He offered me money but I could take it. Why be worried about money so close to my Judgement day? I watched him run off into the distance, every now and then he looked back at me. I noticed on the drive home the little wetback had stolen my wallet. Who cares? I withdrew all of the money in the bank and took the family out to a fancy resteraunt. The wife asks where I got the money, and I just say I got a bonus. They are all smiling, all thanking me, little do they know I will be the master of their fate tomorrow. Me. I'll be the one who kills them.
The next day, I wake up. It's way too early, something had to have woken me up. I look around, the wife is gone. I hear a slushing sound, a wierd wet noise, like someone was mopping the floor or something. I open the bedroom door, walk the halls, and come upon the living room. There he is. Shoving his bloody dick into my wife's neck. He did it. Him. The wetback. He did what I so wanted to do. My kids too, their heads were missing, and they were bruised up too. He must've been saving my wife for last. The sloshing sound stopped and he looked at me. There it was, all of it gone. My kids, my wife, all of their necks filled with wetback cum. I noticed the heads were neatly placed on the coach. It wouldn't have happened if I just did my job. He just smiled.
He was silent for most of the ride. I thought I saw a smile on his face. Most would find it disguisting, but I just didn't care. Everyone on the force is so commited, it sickens me. On more than one occasion I've thought about running in with some tear gas and standard issue .45's and just fucking wasting them all. Clean cut, good guy, all American offcer. To see them smiling each morning, is so horrible. To see them smiling tomorrow, with a fucking hole in their heads, so right.
"How much to let me out of this thing?" he said.
Let him out? Seems right. Wouldn't affect me at all. Noone would ever have to know. He's no worse than me. Tomorrow morning I was planning something big. I would would wake up my wife with gunshots. She would see our kids, our wonderful little angels, dead in the basements. A scream would be heard through the house. And then I would come up behind her, and slit her fucking throat. To see the blood on the walls, her lifeless body. I had trouble deciding whether or not I would rape her corse. Probably. Afterwards I would drive the piece of shit SUV the department gave me 90 MPH through the suburbs, siren on, at six in the morning. I would ram the vehicle through the glass and into the front office, killing our bitchy little secretary. Next would be the rest of the force, they would fall like flies at my hands. In their last moments they would wonder "Why?", "Why is he doing this to us?". No reason, just because. After that I would probably hijack the tank from the surplus yard and see where it takes me.
"Hey man, you hear what I said?"
Of course. I dropped him off behind the local scrapyard. I told him to stay off the freeways tomorrow, that's where I'd be with the tank. He offered me money but I could take it. Why be worried about money so close to my Judgement day? I watched him run off into the distance, every now and then he looked back at me. I noticed on the drive home the little wetback had stolen my wallet. Who cares? I withdrew all of the money in the bank and took the family out to a fancy resteraunt. The wife asks where I got the money, and I just say I got a bonus. They are all smiling, all thanking me, little do they know I will be the master of their fate tomorrow. Me. I'll be the one who kills them.
The next day, I wake up. It's way too early, something had to have woken me up. I look around, the wife is gone. I hear a slushing sound, a wierd wet noise, like someone was mopping the floor or something. I open the bedroom door, walk the halls, and come upon the living room. There he is. Shoving his bloody dick into my wife's neck. He did it. Him. The wetback. He did what I so wanted to do. My kids too, their heads were missing, and they were bruised up too. He must've been saving my wife for last. The sloshing sound stopped and he looked at me. There it was, all of it gone. My kids, my wife, all of their necks filled with wetback cum. I noticed the heads were neatly placed on the coach. It wouldn't have happened if I just did my job. He just smiled.
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