AAA-Education For Leisure

Today I'm going to kill something. Someone. Anything. I feel
the
obligation to, that time has come around again. Every fortnight it is.
Two
weeks later and another person will be lucky, just like that. They will
have
been touched by a celebrity. They do not thank me for it, they do not
get the
chance but I will leave my autograph by their side. Something for the
pigs to
ponder about when they arrive on the scene. But by then it will be too
late.
I know you are wondering what it is. Something like that would
intrigue
you. You will see soon enough but I can tell you now, I will stretch to
that
much at least. I leave a little gift you see? Nothing too big mind you,
I just
remove two things from them and leave it by their side, wristwatch
and
eyeball. Not a delicate manoeuvre mind you. But always worth it, gives
the
whole procedure an elaborate touch. I always like to keep my eye on the
time.
Never been late in my life. I thought of that little signature when I
was at
school, not that I needed school in the first place. I just went there
to do the
usual, squash a few flies, keep my name on the list, have a little time
away
from home. I used to put the little autograph everywhere, not the real
thing
of course, but as I breathed out talent on the window I would scratch
it in or
I would etch it into a desk. The next person sitting there would notice
it, I just
wish they would notice me.
I kept to myself at school, not that I had any choice, the other
little
brats would not come anywhere near me. They knew I was too clever
for
them and the poor ones who thought they could overpower me knew where
to
go; they would be kissing my feet. I could have changed the world
if
somebody had let me, but I do not need to be given a chance on a plate
to do
so. Today I am going to do it. By myself.
I look around the scrawny flat. It is a tip and always has been. I
see
the goldfish bowl on the floor and pick it up. I stare in and look at
the little
blighter. It hasn't been fed in about a week, it did not deserve it.
What does
it do for me? All it does is swim around in it's own little world and I
am sick
of it. I swish it around and it bashes against the sides. This is good.
I sense
the panic within the bowl and decide to put it out of it's misery. I
pour it
rapidly into the bog. It swims around, and gets accompanied to
it's
surroundings. Flush. It's gone. A smile creeps around my face. I know
I'm
ready.
There is a tense atmosphere in the flat now, I claw for the cat but
it
steams off. She knows I am a genius, a superstar, a God. There's
nothing
that can stop me. I pull the phone off the hook and stab in the number
to the
local radio station. They tell me I will be on air in a few minutes and
I stamp
my foot impatiently. I'm on. I tell the man he's talking to a superstar
and
that...he cuts me off. I slam the phone back down, this has infuriated
me.
Nobody ever takes notice. But they will after today. I take out
the
bread-knife and emerge from the front door.
I walk down the dull grey road. It is just one of those days today,
an
ordinary, boring day. Mondays are always the same, everybody hates
them. I
know you are close now. Still, the clouds overhead glare at me like
great
monsters, reaching out to get a piece of me. Everybody wants to get a
piece
of me. I am a God after all. I play with the knife in my trouser
pocket, it
makes me feel so solid, people look at me strangely as I walk down the
street.
They obviously think they have known me from somewhere before.
Suddenly the World brightens up, everything around me glitters.
A
phenomenal rush runs through my body, I've seen you . There you are,
ready
to write another of your stories. You sit there all pretentious in your
office
but I know you will be out soon. I grab a paper from the stand and
read
another one of your successes. Front page this time. Soon your name
will be
on the front page for another reason.
I stare a hole through the words you write. They are like poetry,
like
another language. Shakespearean or something. I would not know, English
was
not really my strong point. You never gave me a chance to be there, in
the
public eye. You never wrote about me, the things I went through as a
child,
never even bothered to reply to my letters. I wipe a salty tear away.
Well,
you won't be getting the front pages any more, soon they'll realise I
am the
one they should have been writing about all along. I check my watch
again.
You never thought time could be such a precious thing but your eye will
be
forever upon it now.
The demon from within me remains strong and will always seek justice.
I
imagine gauging through your precious make-up, scraping your skin,
severing
your organs and slowly grabbing the life away from you. Another
smile
emerges on my face and the sky becomes so light I cannot see, but it's
not
the sky that produces the glow. It's you. The dark clouds fade away to
reveal
your stunning figure advancing ahead of me. I touch your arm.