Post by madddogg on Jan 31, 2010 9:20:26 GMT -5
“Finally, the transformation is complete. Within the confines of the mind, the person has achieved Godhood. While it may not be obvious to the common observer, at least at first, the individual has become his or her everything. The ultimate in power, worth and form. Complete."
She can hear Todd outside the door, pounding.
“Let me in you bitch!”
Convinced himself she was cheating on him. Crazy talk. She loves him in her own sick way. Can even forgive the punches and kicks, being thrown down the stairs, losing a tooth, having to cover up so many bruises, so many injuries, a few broken bones, doctors’ visits, lies. All of that can be forgiven. But she knows what’ll happen when he claws his way through that door. If…who is she kidding…when, he does, she’s dead and she knows it. She herself digs frantically, perhaps vainly, through the dresser drawer.
“Unfortunately, reality never meets the hype. While the individual believes him or herself to be God incarnate, they’re just a real person with real flaws. Dangerous, scary to the average human being, and even sometimes powerful, but still mortal. Flesh and bone. Blood and organ.”
The wood begins to splinter and she cries out, fingers finally wrapping around the steel she has been looking for.
"BITCH! Didn't you think I'd find out about ou screwing around? I'll kill you bitch!"
As he finally breaks through the door, she turns to face him.
“But the problem with deifying oneself is obvious. Delusion is dangerous. Ultimate delusion is ultimate danger.”
The redhead can’t help but notice just how pretty the boy is. Filled with life and potential pain. Probably with a family that adores the ground he walks upon. It’s a chance not only to snuff the life from a child, but the joy from a family. Take the future away from a family, and you take away the life. A thrill shoots through him. The murder of an entire family with just one death. Delicious. Something completely new and exciting.
“While a deluded person may be dangerous to others, they are also dangerous to themselves. The ability to understand others is gone, lost forever. Because no one has the desire to understand what doesn’t matter. And to the God person, nothing matters outside of the God person. While it may seem like an unimportant loss to the self proclaimed God, it is a crucial skill set gone. An inevitable loss in the progression. Completely unavoidable.”
He pulls the van to the side and opens the passenger door. Beckoning the small boy in. “Come on. Let’s take a ride.” At first, the child regards him much like a dog reacts to hearing their master’s voice on the phone. Cocked head and empty expression. He almost can’t believe his good luck when the boy smiles and heads for the van! So easy this one! So little work!
“The fire that feeds itself soon grows in danger of burning out. It has grown too big, too unmanageable. It cannot sustain itself. It ends up threatening to burn itself out.”
He looks at the boy, already imagining the soft skin of his throat parting beneath a blade. The warm blood spilling out onto his fingers. He has to repress a shudder of delight at the ultimate kill to come. Delicious. Truly delicious. He’s already planning things to do to the boy. Take his time. Make him scream. Make him suffer. “What’s your name kid?” Instead of an answer, all he gets is a bizarre smile.
“The best skill of the predator is being able to sense the environment around him, understand the situation. But once one sees themself as everything that matters, that is gone. Pride goeth before the fall. And blindness leads a man to ruin. All the man gains on turning to deity is an incredible sense of blindness. Loss of perspective. Reality is the second to last casualty.”
He knows his parents suspect him at this point. 6 dead siblings. All mysterious deaths. Surely they remember him telling them not to have…whatever the first one’s name was. Hell, he can’t even remember anymore. He can’t even remember the last one anymore. And Mom is pregnant AGAIN. Some people never learn. Well, he’s tired of little siblings. And for once, he doesn’t feel like waiting for the little brat to be to be born. Why not just take care of Mom now. Dad’s out of the house. Even if they expect him to kill the baby, they can’t imagine he’d just attack her. That’d be new.
“Even the predator cannot be assured that he is not prey in someone else’s eyes. Gang members kill each other. The lion king will have cubs try to dethrone him. The deer hunter may look like a good kill for a bear. Or a predator may misjudge his prey and fall victim to a desperate cornered animal/human.”
She regards him suspiciously. And she should. He HAS killed 7 of her children. Or is it 8? 4? He can’t remember anymore. They kinda ran together after the first one. He can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. He should remember each of them. Not because they matter or anything. But because he should remember each and every one of his triumphs. His kills are special because they are his. Not because of the babies. She slides him a plate of eggs, breaking the thought.
“Once this ability is lost, the predator is more vulnerable than even the weakest deer. The deer knows its limitations. The chicken understands the threat of the fox. The would-be-God only understands his infatuation with himself. Or herself.”
He quickly starts shoveling the eggs into his mouth as she watches him. Regarding her stare, he allows the plate to rest temporarily to announce his intentions to her.
“I don’t want you to have the baby.”
He expects some kind of argument, a fight. Perhaps an AHA moment from those shit detective novels. But all he gets is a darkening of her face, a quiet acknowledgement that she was correct in seeing the demise of her other children. After she remains silent, he pushes forward.
“I’m tired of you both having children. I want to be the only one. So, Mom, your choice is simple. Do you want to get rid of it yourself, or shall I do it for you? Won’t be the first time. Might not even be the last. But it’ll be the same as always.”
Still nothing. So he shrugs and finishes his orange juice in one gulp. How odd that she’s not even getting angry. Just…he doesn’t know what she is. A shrug, and he writes it off. No big deal…
“The irony is perfect. Through the delusion of godhood, the Man God loses the qualities most attributed to God: knowledge and presence. The more complete the delusion, the father Man God gets from omniscience. The less he knows. And far from being everywhere, he loses the only grasp in reality he has, until he resides only in his own head. To excuse the cliché, with the loss of knowledge is the loss of power. Even if the physical power increases.”
There have been no shortage of Piggies. They don’t last long anymore. Even when they make it through…he tires of them now. He’s found now that he likes the female ones best. They cry the most. Suffer the most. Hurt the most. And they bleed the best. Once he realized that there was more than one Piggy, life opened up. Now the world is his playground. And some Piggy on a street corner is his new target. Ridiculous make up. Barely dressed. New Piggy needs hitting. Hitting in her face. Hitting in her gut. Hitting til the blood rolls out of her eyes. Her ears. Her nose. From cuts. And from breaks. This’ll be fun.
“Whereas God is all knowing, Man God loses all knowledge. Even of himself. As God is everywhere, Man God only lives in his own imagination. And as God has all power, Man God loses any power he has with the loss of knowledge.”
“Wanna have some fun sugar?”
He doesn’t even bother responding. Piggies aren’t worth it. He slams his fist into the side of her head. Collapses like a stack of bricks pushed over. Rapid kicks to the gut. He hears the fingers of her right hand break under a vicious stomp from his boot. He’s probably cussing. And she definitely is. But that’s irrelevant now.
“The hubris of thinking oneself God makes one the farthest from God. And vulnerability becomes a factor again. Whereas the normal person understands the danger a speeding car poses to them, the God Delusion allows the monster the illusion that he poses the greater threat to the speeding car.”
Piggy throws a medal at him. Shiny, gold, misshapen. He doesn’t care. Already bleeding from the nose and mouth. Just the ears and eyes to go. He can do it. A ruined hand clearly evident. Filthy whore piggy, deserves everything she gets. She’s mewing like a dying cat. Weirdest way anyone’s ever begged him before. Please? Sounds almost like Po weeze. Weird. Doesn’t dwell on it. Piggy needs to be punished. Needs to bleed. Needs to die. And oblivious to the world around.
“While in the God Man’s mind, he is alone, unique, transcendent…the truth couldn’t be farther away. He is common, ordinary, numerous. There are thousands of him and her in jail. There are thousands in the ground. They are in our crime novels. Our mafias, or serial killers. Everywhere”
At this point, it’s an old game. He sits at her kitchen table, waiting for his little sister to get home. Her son is tied up, gagged. Hell, he doesn’t even know what he wants anymore. Most of the time, he doesn’t care if she succeeds or fails. The game is to make her hurt. Ever since her rabbit, he’s demanded things. Constantly. Do something hard, or horrible, or degrading. Something to amuse me or make me smile. Or lose something you love. While he waits for her to arrive, he can’t help but pet her new dog. Beautiful creature. Maybe the subject of a future game. Great coat, wonderful animal. Almost a shame he didn’t know she had it. They’d have played for the dog. Not the boy.
“As God promised Abraham, so too are there more Man Gods than stars. They are numerous. They are plentiful, and they are completely without distinction from one another. Like snowflakes, everyone may be different, but they’re virtually indistinguishable to the common eye.”
He’s come to enjoy asking for the absurd, and, on occasion, the impossible. Just so he can take away something she values dearly. The look of agony, of loss, in her face is always exquisite. What started as a mundane punishment for ratting him out has become a cornerstone of his life.
“And like all delusions, reality at some point must intrude. The deeper and more integrated to the person the delusion is, the more brutal the awakening. And for complete delusion…”
When she enters, it takes more than five minutes to notice him. Another two to notice the boy. To his surprise, there is no shock. No dismay. No fear. No apprehension. But he pushes ahead anyway.
“Sis, it’s time again. What I want…”
“No one gives a shit.”
He’s shocked himself for a moment. Then he regains his hold on the situation. Standing, he runs his hand over her boy’s cheek. She doesn’t even seem concerned. Which surprises him, because he knows she loves her son.
“Come now. Surely you don’t want your son to go the way of Mr. Floppy?”
“He’ll be fine.”
Puzzlement must be clear on his face because she starts laughing.
“Look. This can end one of two ways.”
“Leave. This only ends the way I want it to.”
What the hell?
“Eventually, no matter how deeply entrenched the fantasy is. The delusion. The game. It must come to an end. Reality eventually intrudes, even on the most hard set delusion.”
She…she starts sorting the mail. What the hell kinda game is she playing?
“Look, this is your last chance to…”
“Berker. Break!”
“And the final intrusion of reality for the God Man is brutal. Definitive. The delusion must meet a bitter end.”
And the trump card was always in front of him. The dog, so docile, so pliant, snaps to action. His ankle is mangled before he knows it. He tries to scramble, but the dog digs its teeth into his thigh, ripping the corroded artery. Blood starts spurting like a geyser. Three punches to the dog’s snout only disorient it. It shakes its head, looks at his sister and resumes the attack. Going instead after his arm. He tries to fight it off, but it doesn’t matter. He’s fading. And the dog, realizing the threat to its family is going, walks away bored.
“I knew you’d eventually come for my son. Did you think I wouldn’t plan SOMETHING?”
Sadly, he hadn’t. The idea that the game could change. That he would ever not be in control had never once occurred to him. And his last thought before fading into nothingness was that he would have to be less short sighted in the…
----------------------------------------
As Mom looks at him, he can’t help but find humor in her silence.
“Which is it Mom?”
Nothing. More silence. He’d almost swear he was drunk if he didn’t know better. How hazy his eyesight was. How…..how bad his head hurt. What the fu…
"My baby is going to be fine."
“What. What. What.”
He can’t go further. The same word spills forth a dozen, maybe two or three dozen times before she cuts him off. He can barely sit up.
“What has happened to you?”
He tries to nod. Only succeeds in falling out of his seat.
“We figured out what happened after Savannah. You killed all of them didn’t you?”
He can barely think anymore. What happens? Going on? Mom? did stuff? things? hard breath work no lungs brain down shut think work less act ivity thing stuff WHY?
“After the doctor found the needle mark on poor Savannah. After he determined that an air embolism killed her, we watched you. No one ever loses as many children as we do. We figured out it was you. Waited. Watched. Your dad wanted to turn you in. I, I wanted you gone.”
manages last sentence ever words out of mouth ever no more
“You knew I try hurt you?”
She looks at him and smiles.
“No baby. I decided to poison your eggs no matter what. I have to protect my children.”
“me child your…mama please.”
“Baby, you haven’t been my child for a long time. “
-------------------------------------
Todd walks towards her. Menacing and evil. Despite his medium size.
“Bitch, I told you I’d kill you if you ever tried to leave. If you ever cheated.”
He relishes his control over her, no matter how illusory. The hammer in his hand catches the light, glimmers maliciously. He grins.
“Ready bitch?”
His only answer is a report, echoing off the walls, and a pain in his chest. Fingers trace the opening of the wound, no bigger than a dime. Blood covers his fingers. Confusion pains his face and he lurches forward. Another shot echoes through the room, and he drops to his knees, clutching a second hand to his neck. Trying to hold in the blood. Trying to hold in the life. He almost looks scared. Almost looks innocent.
He’s reaching for answers. Confused. His eyes lock on the handgun he bought years ago. To “protect the family”. He’d forgotten it was still in the house. Eyes glaze with a lack of understanding. Hurt. Pain. Even fear. His lips move, and for a moment she almost believes he’ll call out her name. Say sorry. Say he loves her. But the last word out of his mouth, a cross between a croak and a whisper, appropriate for a man like him is the word he used most
“Bitch”
Then the light fades from his eyes and Todd collapses. For the first time in years, she’s not afraid to look at him. And the wailing begins. Not for him. But for herself, and what she let him do to her. And for all that she has lost…
-------------------------------------
As the first blow lands on HIS head, Tommy finally realizes that Piggy wasn’t laboring to say Please. Completely different word. Despite broken teeth. Split lips. Poor wheeze was police. The medal a badge. The night stick cracking his skull, knocking him to the ground. Shouts all around him as the officers pour out of alleys. Maybe five. All swinging nightsticks or flashlights. All hitting Piggy. NO DAMNIT! NOT PIGGY! HE’S NOT PIGGY!
Tell that to the officers. Raining down blows. His snout broken. At least he gets a small laugh as a shot to the mouth knocks three of his teeth down his throat. Piggy beating Piggy. Piggy getting beat by Piggies. Everyone Piggy. Everyone getting beat by Piggy. All snouts. All tails. All oink oink oink.
And finally, it’s his lips split. His eyes swollen. His ribs cracked. Bloos pooling from his eyes, his mouth, his nose, his ears. Cracks in his head spilling precious fluid. And knowing that, if he dies here, he looks like no one. People who know him for years will look at him. Be confused. Not recognize him. Barely looking human. Squealing in pain. His paws flailing wildly. And him off to a pen. No more freedom. Just bars. Assuming he survives after all. Can barely breathe. Wheezing. Making pathetic mewing noises. Suddenly jail doesn’t seem so bad. He just wishes he survives.
------------------------
“What’s your name buddy?” Again no answer. Weird. He looks so familiar. For a moment, he forgets just how bad he wants to kill him. How he wants to hear the horrible squeal. See the death twitch, death face. Watch the tears roll down his face, until they are warmer than the flesh. Watch the blood form a small lake in the boy’s newly opened chest.
But he can’t help but feel a small connection to the child. Eyes so bright but somehow vacant. Smile plastered across his lips. Facial features stretched so wide, they’re almost plastic. Very pleasant to look at. The ideal face. So perfect, so…
The realization hits him as the pain does…
Fake.
The van slows. He looks down. A small blade in his side. The boy smiling at him. His hand still clutching the handle. Blood is getting on his fingers. The boy licks his lips. Twists the bladed slightly. Enough to increase hurt. Increase blood flow. Kid’s good. Better than him. At that age. Maybe now. Maybe even now. damn.
Child smiles again. Not plastic now. Real. Malice. Eyes still empty. The mask falling. And it hits him for the first time why he knew the child. Why he felt close. Connected. He looks down into his own face. Different hair. Same face. Same dead eyes. Same fake smile. And he fell for the same con. Same trap so many others fell into at his hands.
The blade is yanked out. Inserted again. Between the ribs. once more. Fading light. Life dripping out in rivers. He gets one last look into the child’s eyes. And sees the same evil malice in his eyes as a child.
His last sight.
“Every Man God is forced into a final realization of his limitations. His weaknesses only apparent when they have been exploited. His glaring flaws, apparent to everyone else, are only revealed to him when it’s too late. Man not divine. God in his eyes only. His own hubris, his previous source of power, proves to be his undoing. The fire grows so bright, it burns itself out. The Man God is defeated not from without, but because his arrogance grows so great, so unsustainable, that it becomes oblivious to the painfully obvious. It is never the minute details that end the Man God, but the big things. The delusion that nothing and no one can harm the supposed Deity. That the unstoppable train, the destructive tornado, the collapsing building, the rabid dog, the toxic poison, hold no danger for the God thing. It is not the outside danger that collapses the false God, but the arrogance that such dangers pose an amusement instead of a mortal danger. The destruction of the self God then comes not at outside hands…though those are often the tool. Rather it comes from within. The “God” destroys himself not through Darwin, but through Design. And the closer he gets towards his doom, the faster he speeds. “
“In ways that they themselves do not even understand, these false Gods, these mockeries, these perversions, always seek out their own destruction. And in their last moments, the truth that everyone else has always understood is laid clear to the false God. ‘You are nothing. Just dirt. Not special. Not superior. Not even different. Just more of the same, like so many others since the dawn of time. A false God. A false prophet. A phony. A fake.’ The final revelation to the false God is not of the divine nature or eternal truth. It is of their own frailty. Their exaggerated claims. Their hubris and ego. And it ends with the ultimate lesson. The God is either destroyed outright or placed in a cage to suffer the understanding of his limited terrestrial nature for the rest of his days…confined to the opposite fate he saw himself. God reduced to slave or meat. Deity to nothingness. The delusion shattered beyond repair.”
She can hear Todd outside the door, pounding.
“Let me in you bitch!”
Convinced himself she was cheating on him. Crazy talk. She loves him in her own sick way. Can even forgive the punches and kicks, being thrown down the stairs, losing a tooth, having to cover up so many bruises, so many injuries, a few broken bones, doctors’ visits, lies. All of that can be forgiven. But she knows what’ll happen when he claws his way through that door. If…who is she kidding…when, he does, she’s dead and she knows it. She herself digs frantically, perhaps vainly, through the dresser drawer.
“Unfortunately, reality never meets the hype. While the individual believes him or herself to be God incarnate, they’re just a real person with real flaws. Dangerous, scary to the average human being, and even sometimes powerful, but still mortal. Flesh and bone. Blood and organ.”
The wood begins to splinter and she cries out, fingers finally wrapping around the steel she has been looking for.
"BITCH! Didn't you think I'd find out about ou screwing around? I'll kill you bitch!"
As he finally breaks through the door, she turns to face him.
“But the problem with deifying oneself is obvious. Delusion is dangerous. Ultimate delusion is ultimate danger.”
The redhead can’t help but notice just how pretty the boy is. Filled with life and potential pain. Probably with a family that adores the ground he walks upon. It’s a chance not only to snuff the life from a child, but the joy from a family. Take the future away from a family, and you take away the life. A thrill shoots through him. The murder of an entire family with just one death. Delicious. Something completely new and exciting.
“While a deluded person may be dangerous to others, they are also dangerous to themselves. The ability to understand others is gone, lost forever. Because no one has the desire to understand what doesn’t matter. And to the God person, nothing matters outside of the God person. While it may seem like an unimportant loss to the self proclaimed God, it is a crucial skill set gone. An inevitable loss in the progression. Completely unavoidable.”
He pulls the van to the side and opens the passenger door. Beckoning the small boy in. “Come on. Let’s take a ride.” At first, the child regards him much like a dog reacts to hearing their master’s voice on the phone. Cocked head and empty expression. He almost can’t believe his good luck when the boy smiles and heads for the van! So easy this one! So little work!
“The fire that feeds itself soon grows in danger of burning out. It has grown too big, too unmanageable. It cannot sustain itself. It ends up threatening to burn itself out.”
He looks at the boy, already imagining the soft skin of his throat parting beneath a blade. The warm blood spilling out onto his fingers. He has to repress a shudder of delight at the ultimate kill to come. Delicious. Truly delicious. He’s already planning things to do to the boy. Take his time. Make him scream. Make him suffer. “What’s your name kid?” Instead of an answer, all he gets is a bizarre smile.
“The best skill of the predator is being able to sense the environment around him, understand the situation. But once one sees themself as everything that matters, that is gone. Pride goeth before the fall. And blindness leads a man to ruin. All the man gains on turning to deity is an incredible sense of blindness. Loss of perspective. Reality is the second to last casualty.”
He knows his parents suspect him at this point. 6 dead siblings. All mysterious deaths. Surely they remember him telling them not to have…whatever the first one’s name was. Hell, he can’t even remember anymore. He can’t even remember the last one anymore. And Mom is pregnant AGAIN. Some people never learn. Well, he’s tired of little siblings. And for once, he doesn’t feel like waiting for the little brat to be to be born. Why not just take care of Mom now. Dad’s out of the house. Even if they expect him to kill the baby, they can’t imagine he’d just attack her. That’d be new.
“Even the predator cannot be assured that he is not prey in someone else’s eyes. Gang members kill each other. The lion king will have cubs try to dethrone him. The deer hunter may look like a good kill for a bear. Or a predator may misjudge his prey and fall victim to a desperate cornered animal/human.”
She regards him suspiciously. And she should. He HAS killed 7 of her children. Or is it 8? 4? He can’t remember anymore. They kinda ran together after the first one. He can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. He should remember each of them. Not because they matter or anything. But because he should remember each and every one of his triumphs. His kills are special because they are his. Not because of the babies. She slides him a plate of eggs, breaking the thought.
“Once this ability is lost, the predator is more vulnerable than even the weakest deer. The deer knows its limitations. The chicken understands the threat of the fox. The would-be-God only understands his infatuation with himself. Or herself.”
He quickly starts shoveling the eggs into his mouth as she watches him. Regarding her stare, he allows the plate to rest temporarily to announce his intentions to her.
“I don’t want you to have the baby.”
He expects some kind of argument, a fight. Perhaps an AHA moment from those shit detective novels. But all he gets is a darkening of her face, a quiet acknowledgement that she was correct in seeing the demise of her other children. After she remains silent, he pushes forward.
“I’m tired of you both having children. I want to be the only one. So, Mom, your choice is simple. Do you want to get rid of it yourself, or shall I do it for you? Won’t be the first time. Might not even be the last. But it’ll be the same as always.”
Still nothing. So he shrugs and finishes his orange juice in one gulp. How odd that she’s not even getting angry. Just…he doesn’t know what she is. A shrug, and he writes it off. No big deal…
“The irony is perfect. Through the delusion of godhood, the Man God loses the qualities most attributed to God: knowledge and presence. The more complete the delusion, the father Man God gets from omniscience. The less he knows. And far from being everywhere, he loses the only grasp in reality he has, until he resides only in his own head. To excuse the cliché, with the loss of knowledge is the loss of power. Even if the physical power increases.”
There have been no shortage of Piggies. They don’t last long anymore. Even when they make it through…he tires of them now. He’s found now that he likes the female ones best. They cry the most. Suffer the most. Hurt the most. And they bleed the best. Once he realized that there was more than one Piggy, life opened up. Now the world is his playground. And some Piggy on a street corner is his new target. Ridiculous make up. Barely dressed. New Piggy needs hitting. Hitting in her face. Hitting in her gut. Hitting til the blood rolls out of her eyes. Her ears. Her nose. From cuts. And from breaks. This’ll be fun.
“Whereas God is all knowing, Man God loses all knowledge. Even of himself. As God is everywhere, Man God only lives in his own imagination. And as God has all power, Man God loses any power he has with the loss of knowledge.”
“Wanna have some fun sugar?”
He doesn’t even bother responding. Piggies aren’t worth it. He slams his fist into the side of her head. Collapses like a stack of bricks pushed over. Rapid kicks to the gut. He hears the fingers of her right hand break under a vicious stomp from his boot. He’s probably cussing. And she definitely is. But that’s irrelevant now.
“The hubris of thinking oneself God makes one the farthest from God. And vulnerability becomes a factor again. Whereas the normal person understands the danger a speeding car poses to them, the God Delusion allows the monster the illusion that he poses the greater threat to the speeding car.”
Piggy throws a medal at him. Shiny, gold, misshapen. He doesn’t care. Already bleeding from the nose and mouth. Just the ears and eyes to go. He can do it. A ruined hand clearly evident. Filthy whore piggy, deserves everything she gets. She’s mewing like a dying cat. Weirdest way anyone’s ever begged him before. Please? Sounds almost like Po weeze. Weird. Doesn’t dwell on it. Piggy needs to be punished. Needs to bleed. Needs to die. And oblivious to the world around.
“While in the God Man’s mind, he is alone, unique, transcendent…the truth couldn’t be farther away. He is common, ordinary, numerous. There are thousands of him and her in jail. There are thousands in the ground. They are in our crime novels. Our mafias, or serial killers. Everywhere”
At this point, it’s an old game. He sits at her kitchen table, waiting for his little sister to get home. Her son is tied up, gagged. Hell, he doesn’t even know what he wants anymore. Most of the time, he doesn’t care if she succeeds or fails. The game is to make her hurt. Ever since her rabbit, he’s demanded things. Constantly. Do something hard, or horrible, or degrading. Something to amuse me or make me smile. Or lose something you love. While he waits for her to arrive, he can’t help but pet her new dog. Beautiful creature. Maybe the subject of a future game. Great coat, wonderful animal. Almost a shame he didn’t know she had it. They’d have played for the dog. Not the boy.
“As God promised Abraham, so too are there more Man Gods than stars. They are numerous. They are plentiful, and they are completely without distinction from one another. Like snowflakes, everyone may be different, but they’re virtually indistinguishable to the common eye.”
He’s come to enjoy asking for the absurd, and, on occasion, the impossible. Just so he can take away something she values dearly. The look of agony, of loss, in her face is always exquisite. What started as a mundane punishment for ratting him out has become a cornerstone of his life.
“And like all delusions, reality at some point must intrude. The deeper and more integrated to the person the delusion is, the more brutal the awakening. And for complete delusion…”
When she enters, it takes more than five minutes to notice him. Another two to notice the boy. To his surprise, there is no shock. No dismay. No fear. No apprehension. But he pushes ahead anyway.
“Sis, it’s time again. What I want…”
“No one gives a shit.”
He’s shocked himself for a moment. Then he regains his hold on the situation. Standing, he runs his hand over her boy’s cheek. She doesn’t even seem concerned. Which surprises him, because he knows she loves her son.
“Come now. Surely you don’t want your son to go the way of Mr. Floppy?”
“He’ll be fine.”
Puzzlement must be clear on his face because she starts laughing.
“Look. This can end one of two ways.”
“Leave. This only ends the way I want it to.”
What the hell?
“Eventually, no matter how deeply entrenched the fantasy is. The delusion. The game. It must come to an end. Reality eventually intrudes, even on the most hard set delusion.”
She…she starts sorting the mail. What the hell kinda game is she playing?
“Look, this is your last chance to…”
“Berker. Break!”
“And the final intrusion of reality for the God Man is brutal. Definitive. The delusion must meet a bitter end.”
And the trump card was always in front of him. The dog, so docile, so pliant, snaps to action. His ankle is mangled before he knows it. He tries to scramble, but the dog digs its teeth into his thigh, ripping the corroded artery. Blood starts spurting like a geyser. Three punches to the dog’s snout only disorient it. It shakes its head, looks at his sister and resumes the attack. Going instead after his arm. He tries to fight it off, but it doesn’t matter. He’s fading. And the dog, realizing the threat to its family is going, walks away bored.
“I knew you’d eventually come for my son. Did you think I wouldn’t plan SOMETHING?”
Sadly, he hadn’t. The idea that the game could change. That he would ever not be in control had never once occurred to him. And his last thought before fading into nothingness was that he would have to be less short sighted in the…
----------------------------------------
As Mom looks at him, he can’t help but find humor in her silence.
“Which is it Mom?”
Nothing. More silence. He’d almost swear he was drunk if he didn’t know better. How hazy his eyesight was. How…..how bad his head hurt. What the fu…
"My baby is going to be fine."
“What. What. What.”
He can’t go further. The same word spills forth a dozen, maybe two or three dozen times before she cuts him off. He can barely sit up.
“What has happened to you?”
He tries to nod. Only succeeds in falling out of his seat.
“We figured out what happened after Savannah. You killed all of them didn’t you?”
He can barely think anymore. What happens? Going on? Mom? did stuff? things? hard breath work no lungs brain down shut think work less act ivity thing stuff WHY?
“After the doctor found the needle mark on poor Savannah. After he determined that an air embolism killed her, we watched you. No one ever loses as many children as we do. We figured out it was you. Waited. Watched. Your dad wanted to turn you in. I, I wanted you gone.”
manages last sentence ever words out of mouth ever no more
“You knew I try hurt you?”
She looks at him and smiles.
“No baby. I decided to poison your eggs no matter what. I have to protect my children.”
“me child your…mama please.”
“Baby, you haven’t been my child for a long time. “
-------------------------------------
Todd walks towards her. Menacing and evil. Despite his medium size.
“Bitch, I told you I’d kill you if you ever tried to leave. If you ever cheated.”
He relishes his control over her, no matter how illusory. The hammer in his hand catches the light, glimmers maliciously. He grins.
“Ready bitch?”
His only answer is a report, echoing off the walls, and a pain in his chest. Fingers trace the opening of the wound, no bigger than a dime. Blood covers his fingers. Confusion pains his face and he lurches forward. Another shot echoes through the room, and he drops to his knees, clutching a second hand to his neck. Trying to hold in the blood. Trying to hold in the life. He almost looks scared. Almost looks innocent.
He’s reaching for answers. Confused. His eyes lock on the handgun he bought years ago. To “protect the family”. He’d forgotten it was still in the house. Eyes glaze with a lack of understanding. Hurt. Pain. Even fear. His lips move, and for a moment she almost believes he’ll call out her name. Say sorry. Say he loves her. But the last word out of his mouth, a cross between a croak and a whisper, appropriate for a man like him is the word he used most
“Bitch”
Then the light fades from his eyes and Todd collapses. For the first time in years, she’s not afraid to look at him. And the wailing begins. Not for him. But for herself, and what she let him do to her. And for all that she has lost…
-------------------------------------
As the first blow lands on HIS head, Tommy finally realizes that Piggy wasn’t laboring to say Please. Completely different word. Despite broken teeth. Split lips. Poor wheeze was police. The medal a badge. The night stick cracking his skull, knocking him to the ground. Shouts all around him as the officers pour out of alleys. Maybe five. All swinging nightsticks or flashlights. All hitting Piggy. NO DAMNIT! NOT PIGGY! HE’S NOT PIGGY!
Tell that to the officers. Raining down blows. His snout broken. At least he gets a small laugh as a shot to the mouth knocks three of his teeth down his throat. Piggy beating Piggy. Piggy getting beat by Piggies. Everyone Piggy. Everyone getting beat by Piggy. All snouts. All tails. All oink oink oink.
And finally, it’s his lips split. His eyes swollen. His ribs cracked. Bloos pooling from his eyes, his mouth, his nose, his ears. Cracks in his head spilling precious fluid. And knowing that, if he dies here, he looks like no one. People who know him for years will look at him. Be confused. Not recognize him. Barely looking human. Squealing in pain. His paws flailing wildly. And him off to a pen. No more freedom. Just bars. Assuming he survives after all. Can barely breathe. Wheezing. Making pathetic mewing noises. Suddenly jail doesn’t seem so bad. He just wishes he survives.
------------------------
“What’s your name buddy?” Again no answer. Weird. He looks so familiar. For a moment, he forgets just how bad he wants to kill him. How he wants to hear the horrible squeal. See the death twitch, death face. Watch the tears roll down his face, until they are warmer than the flesh. Watch the blood form a small lake in the boy’s newly opened chest.
But he can’t help but feel a small connection to the child. Eyes so bright but somehow vacant. Smile plastered across his lips. Facial features stretched so wide, they’re almost plastic. Very pleasant to look at. The ideal face. So perfect, so…
The realization hits him as the pain does…
Fake.
The van slows. He looks down. A small blade in his side. The boy smiling at him. His hand still clutching the handle. Blood is getting on his fingers. The boy licks his lips. Twists the bladed slightly. Enough to increase hurt. Increase blood flow. Kid’s good. Better than him. At that age. Maybe now. Maybe even now. damn.
Child smiles again. Not plastic now. Real. Malice. Eyes still empty. The mask falling. And it hits him for the first time why he knew the child. Why he felt close. Connected. He looks down into his own face. Different hair. Same face. Same dead eyes. Same fake smile. And he fell for the same con. Same trap so many others fell into at his hands.
The blade is yanked out. Inserted again. Between the ribs. once more. Fading light. Life dripping out in rivers. He gets one last look into the child’s eyes. And sees the same evil malice in his eyes as a child.
His last sight.
“Every Man God is forced into a final realization of his limitations. His weaknesses only apparent when they have been exploited. His glaring flaws, apparent to everyone else, are only revealed to him when it’s too late. Man not divine. God in his eyes only. His own hubris, his previous source of power, proves to be his undoing. The fire grows so bright, it burns itself out. The Man God is defeated not from without, but because his arrogance grows so great, so unsustainable, that it becomes oblivious to the painfully obvious. It is never the minute details that end the Man God, but the big things. The delusion that nothing and no one can harm the supposed Deity. That the unstoppable train, the destructive tornado, the collapsing building, the rabid dog, the toxic poison, hold no danger for the God thing. It is not the outside danger that collapses the false God, but the arrogance that such dangers pose an amusement instead of a mortal danger. The destruction of the self God then comes not at outside hands…though those are often the tool. Rather it comes from within. The “God” destroys himself not through Darwin, but through Design. And the closer he gets towards his doom, the faster he speeds. “
“In ways that they themselves do not even understand, these false Gods, these mockeries, these perversions, always seek out their own destruction. And in their last moments, the truth that everyone else has always understood is laid clear to the false God. ‘You are nothing. Just dirt. Not special. Not superior. Not even different. Just more of the same, like so many others since the dawn of time. A false God. A false prophet. A phony. A fake.’ The final revelation to the false God is not of the divine nature or eternal truth. It is of their own frailty. Their exaggerated claims. Their hubris and ego. And it ends with the ultimate lesson. The God is either destroyed outright or placed in a cage to suffer the understanding of his limited terrestrial nature for the rest of his days…confined to the opposite fate he saw himself. God reduced to slave or meat. Deity to nothingness. The delusion shattered beyond repair.”
