You don’t seem to understand. Taking you out of this… place is a mercy. You sit there staring at me, fish-gasping in the stale air of this room and puffing out tiny particles of your decaying lungs. You fucking look at me with your meat, your fucking dying meat, and you think it’ll compel me to show you mercy? It just reminds me how much I hate you.
When I came into your house tonight, I could smell you right away. Did you know that? I could smell your filth accruing at every orifice from your eating and shitting and pissing, your body a tomb for the beasts you’ve eaten, the bacterium you harbor, all dying every moment. You are a grave inside a grave inside a grave, and it disgusts me.
But I didn’t just smell your meat. I smelt your sin. That internal corruption that makes you little more than an egotistical, vile monkey. I stand before you, eternal, and your presence offends me. It lessens me somehow. You make me lower myself by compelling such hate and disgust.
And this offering. Is this what passes for a boon? Is this a proper sign of supplication? Treats meant for dogs or peasants. In earlier times, you and your entire family would have been burned alive for even suggesting such an insult.
Stop your sniveling, cretin. I swear I’ll cut your eyes from your head if you don’t. There is work to be done in the long nights that requires no sight. Hell, blindness may be preferable. But nevermind. I’m tired of this and have far too much to do tonight to prattle on with you.
So get up there. Climb. Don’t say you can’t, that it’s too hard or too narrow. If I manage so can you. And before you think of being pert, let me be clear. If you make another peep, I’ll happily go and slit your parents’ fat throats. Your little sister, good though she may be, will wake in the morning to find their bodies split wide like the disrespectful hogs they are.
That’s right. Keep climbing. Watch their mouths, as they do love to bite. Get in. In the back, fool, and take this. Do not open it or stick your hand in or you will be even more lost than you already are.
Hmph. You look as though you think you are being wronged, when you’re actually receiving a great gift. Extended life and purpose without end. Most of them thank me before they expire. Either way, your old life is over.
Shut up your mewling, child, the knife is sharp enough that you’re speaking out of fear more than pain. Eat this and you will be healed. Your new life will begin.
That’s right. Candy canes are good, right? Better than the tripe you would have me eat. This one is special, you know. Has a bit of me in it. Yes, I think you’ll enjoy the work, given time. Don’t look at me like that. If I take your eyes now, they’ll only grow back, tempting me to take them again. And before you blame me for your lot, for losing the life you had, you need to remember—you’ve been complicit in your murder since the moment you were born.
That’s better. Time to go now. There are a lot more houses to visit tonight. You get motion sick, you lean over the side or I’ll skin you for a new belt. Just look up front. Keep your eyes on the one with the glow. I hear that helps sometimes.
Comments