Fuelled by a comforting lust to expand my knowledge, I purchased the finest weed money can get you, rolled a giant and went to smoke just outside again. In the giant it was only weed, no tobacco and I puffed immensely, with dedication. Next thing the newspaper, this trite narrative device, alerted me of my success. Yes, the kids were different somehow. No emotional rapport. Drained. Anemic. One of them opened the eye and stared straight into the camera so that fear overwhelmed me, for it was menacing and it sought my subservience. Fully settled, I declared to extinguish these children to prevent their hellish rule, of which I had seen ample proof.
I went to bed glowing with the prospect of retaliation. I woke up, and I had a cotton mouth still from the weed of the night before. There was a hard-on, an indoor breeze of courage. I did nothing, I just went out and got to the hospital. The lady behind the desk said for me to state my name and business, although she did it in a polite manner of course. People need money and if you can get paid for being nice, most people will do that regardless of whether they really are nice - so the hospital can pick and choose among many people with a knack for superficial tact, and they don’t need to hand out big salaries for that, just a normal salary. Anyway she made me feel a bit suppressed and I had not expected this. She should attend to me, not obstruct my way or test me somehow. Situation called for a special treatment, I reckoned, so I said in a grave dreary tone of voice to look out for me because I’ve got a plan or such things. When I said this I was pointing, frowning, I had a moustache. It wasn’t perfect but it stalled her. I went to see the kids. The doctor looked up, puzzled. My countenance fierce and relentless, I pushed him out of the way and could see the kid with the evil eyes with my own eyes, finally. The other ones all gazed contently like the air was matter. I knew air was empty space. Fuck you monsters I said and held him with my hands and began shoving my thick abrasive fingers into the shaft of his throat. There should be none of these, I said as I strangled him. The doctor was observing but too stunned, by disbelief and sheer awe, to react. The kid gargled his words: ”you should know better than to violate the lives of those unable to fend for themselves”. Odd words, seemingly irreconcilable with the once innocent demeanor and appearance of the poor shit. Also they were ugly and I wanted to despise them but couldn’t as I was taken by their symbolic saturation. For a moment I stopped to consider their referential wealth. Then I dismissed them as strained melodrama, continuing my slaughter, renewing it with exponential power; I pulled forth my dick and let it slide alongside the hospital bed. It went stiff and loaded to the brim with potential destruction. Meanwhile the hands were into his neck still, pushing - but as I exposed him and slided my dick inside him the hands diminished their pressure, allowing him some degree of perceptive awareness. Only fair since the dick would make him suffer.