(no subject)
In the Federal Bureau of Investigation a psychologist by the name of Robert K. Resller one said that "Violent acts toward animals have long been recognized as indicators of a dangerous psychopathy that does not confine itself to animals. Anyone who has accustomed himself to regard the life of any living creature as worthless is in danger of arriving also at the idea of worthless human lives." It's considered a reliable indicator that budding psychopaths and sociopaths start with animal abuse and build their way up to agression and violence against their fellow humans, and that if these indicators are recognised, then preventive actions should be taken. Then again, this was all said and recognised in the late '80's and through the '90's, and was less recognised in the early '80's and through the '70's.
Trevor used to drown mice in the school pond. It was a fun game he used to play by himself, catch a mouse maybe during lunch or even the day before and take good care of it. Give it water, food, keep it comfortable. Then, when it came for the best part of the game, you held the mouse by the tail and slowly lowered it down towards the water as it squirmed and tried to get away. It was an old torture technique for the old ages, and Trevor had always gotten a kick out of it. He once drowned seven mice in one day, even.
When he'd been about twelve or thirteen, Trevor had found a half grown puppy. A tiny little thing, probably half Jack Russel terrier and so bouncy that it could jump so high it bounced straight over a parked car. Trevor had let it follow him around for a couple hours as he skipped school, letting it wander around behind him from his house to the sweet shop, to the alleys he hung around in and back several times over. At the end of the day before he'd one home, Trevor had broken all of the puppy's legs with a loose paving stone and dumped it in a trash bin. He could hear it squealing and whimpering a good ten minutes of the walk home.
He'd gone through a lot of animals since then; cats, dogs, mice, rats, he'd even found a badger once. It'd already been hit by a car from wandering too far into the city, and he'd sat with the bloody thing until it finally died. There were lots of birds and mice and small creatures on the island and Trevor had spent his days amusing himself with them, but he'd been getting bored and remembered that there were some cats in the compound.
As it was,Trevor was thinking he probably should have taken the damn thing into the jungle with him, as some woman screamed at him with big wide eyes and an expression of being shocked and appalled while the ugly cat squirmed and hissed in his hands.
"What in God's name are you doing?!" Rosie exclaimed in horror. She'd just come up to do some laundry for her and Fanny, but instead she found an obviously disturbed young man holding one of the Compound cats over the open washing machine as one hand readied to close the lid, his intentions clear as daylight.
"What the fuck does it LOOK like?" Trevor sneered, lowering the feline a few inches just to watch the woman squeal.
"Put her DOWN!"
Trevor's mouth twisted into a a cheerful grin. "Alright."
[[Either or Both, but you might want to come assist in the saving of poor Muffin. Yes, he's about to do exactly what you think. Also: No new tags to this post please, thank you. Cuurent threads will coninue, but just no more tagging in.]]
Trevor used to drown mice in the school pond. It was a fun game he used to play by himself, catch a mouse maybe during lunch or even the day before and take good care of it. Give it water, food, keep it comfortable. Then, when it came for the best part of the game, you held the mouse by the tail and slowly lowered it down towards the water as it squirmed and tried to get away. It was an old torture technique for the old ages, and Trevor had always gotten a kick out of it. He once drowned seven mice in one day, even.
When he'd been about twelve or thirteen, Trevor had found a half grown puppy. A tiny little thing, probably half Jack Russel terrier and so bouncy that it could jump so high it bounced straight over a parked car. Trevor had let it follow him around for a couple hours as he skipped school, letting it wander around behind him from his house to the sweet shop, to the alleys he hung around in and back several times over. At the end of the day before he'd one home, Trevor had broken all of the puppy's legs with a loose paving stone and dumped it in a trash bin. He could hear it squealing and whimpering a good ten minutes of the walk home.
He'd gone through a lot of animals since then; cats, dogs, mice, rats, he'd even found a badger once. It'd already been hit by a car from wandering too far into the city, and he'd sat with the bloody thing until it finally died. There were lots of birds and mice and small creatures on the island and Trevor had spent his days amusing himself with them, but he'd been getting bored and remembered that there were some cats in the compound.
As it was,Trevor was thinking he probably should have taken the damn thing into the jungle with him, as some woman screamed at him with big wide eyes and an expression of being shocked and appalled while the ugly cat squirmed and hissed in his hands.
"What in God's name are you doing?!" Rosie exclaimed in horror. She'd just come up to do some laundry for her and Fanny, but instead she found an obviously disturbed young man holding one of the Compound cats over the open washing machine as one hand readied to close the lid, his intentions clear as daylight.
"What the fuck does it LOOK like?" Trevor sneered, lowering the feline a few inches just to watch the woman squeal.
"Put her DOWN!"
Trevor's mouth twisted into a a cheerful grin. "Alright."
[[Either or Both, but you might want to come assist in the saving of poor Muffin. Yes, he's about to do exactly what you think. Also: No new tags to this post please, thank you. Cuurent threads will coninue, but just no more tagging in.]]