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My seven deadly bads

i'm not fully responsible for what you are about to read. i was equally as shocked... enjoy

* “Do you think the jury will make the right decision?”

“Nope. Even though he is a killer of another sort, I killed her.”

The judge stared at the defendant before reading the verdict of what was now deemed as the trial of the century. He read the verdict, smiled at the defendant and took a bow.


PART i: THE SEVEN DEADLY BADS I HATE THE MOST/WRONG TRIAL.

I think I'm enjoying it when I shouldn't. But how can I know for sure if I don’t at least weigh down the pros and cons of it all? I will list them down as 'Seven deadly bads I hate.'

1) I HATE BEING THE CENTER OF ATTENTION. I hate the spotlight; this should come as no surprise because you see; naturally I'm a shy person. Silence is where I belong, it’s where I drift, it’s where I can be myself for a bit. Despite my hate for the spotlight, I secretly want to be famous, heck I even dream about it sometimes. But I still can't decide whether I want to be famous or infamous. Being famous seems ordinary, but being infamous usually has an interesting side story to it.

2) I HATE HAVING ROOMMATES: especially the kind that want to do everything together. See, I'm cursed with a friendly/inviting face, so the first time I meet every new roommate, they seem to have it at the back of their head that we will form a life-long bond, some bro-code or something. OH Gosh, I think I just hate people.

3) I THINK I HATE PEOPLE. I like nice girls with hoarse voices, and I hate ugly girls with nice voices. With my weird fetish, phone-sex is no longer a thing for me. See during my last phone-sex session; I wasn't sure I was making love to a 'Man' or a 'Mandy.' Now that I think about it, he/she had a weird orgasm scream. I'm not sure if I should be ashamed of my erection right now.

4) I HATE TEAMS. I hate teams, I hate team-work, I hate the smell of a team. I feel a single unit is better than a team; a team lacks coordination. And one man's fuckup can sink a whole team, at the same time, one man's individual brilliance can't always save the team. I'm not for this save the world BS; I'm for the survival of the fittest. I'm not an Anarchist, but sometimes I feel I would enjoy watching the world burn and seeking comfort, warmth, and refuge during one cold, lonely night

5) I HATE NOT BEING IN CONTROL. I'm not a control freak; I'm actually cool with things not always going my way. But what I do hate is when my fate is in the hands of somebody else. If I had my way, I would give myself mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I don’t trust humans; somebody can mess up even on that. Humans do fail, even with the simplest tasks, #SMH.

6) I HATE TRANSSEXUALS.... Enough said. I don't want to be gender insensitive, and one of my roommates is a tranny. Matter of fact he/she is looking at me right now like she knows what I'm talking about like she can read my thoughts of something. Oh shit, let me type slow, maybe she will think writing an essay or something..... Nope, it didn't work. I have confirmed two things;
1-she can read thoughts
2- I hate phone-sex. As I left the room to the next, I flee one of her awkward penetrative stares, I could partially make out her name on one of her books. Think it was Mandy...

So I listed two 6's because I couldn't continue with the old one and I lost my chain of thought. So my new 6 will be;

6) I HATE BEING WATCHED. This should go with my hate for the spotlight because when you are famous, you are always being watched. But my roommates take this watching/stalking shit to another level. I swear I think they can tell when I'm about to fart. I can't get any privacy around here; I miss the old days when it was just me against the world. And the level at which they nag is insane. It’s like adding the nagging levels of a grandma (especially the ones that nag you to eat more), an old ex and some broke-ass landlord eager to get this month’s rent. I hate my roommates so bad that I actually wouldn't mind if it rained Cholera and AIDS up in this bitch.

7) I HATE WAITING...just like I'm waiting for the verdict right now. It was supposed to be the trial of the century. Three judges were dismissed for one reason or another. Then this clown-ass judge appears from nowhere and decides to bow after the verdict. Anyways, back to the trial that I either dozed through or missed half the time. My roommates were more attentive than I was since they were most interested in this human news. I guess they say patience pays but it never really did pay me; that's why and I found a hooker named Patience and paid her instead....

NOTE TO SELF: (Since my high is fading, I will write one Pro and see if it outweighs the cons.)

PROS:

1) ACTING. I love acting, I feel I like a get a chance to be someone else, I get a chance to relive some of the characters I have invented in my head. I'm a very convincing actor, and that's because I believe there is some truth to every lie, so I'm very picky with the roles I choose.

NTS: Oh crap! The words have stopped dancing; I'm sober. Ok, need to speed up. Just scribble anything, the ending will still be good I think

So with acting as the only Pro, it can't possibly outweigh the cons, well, guess what? Life is about doing the things you enjoy, so it doesn't matter if there are 7 bads and one good. If you focus all your energy on that one good and are enjoying it, it can outweigh all the bads in the world.

And besides, if I don't act 'innocent,' I will lose this case and will have to deal with my seven bads on a daily basis....

PART ii: MY SEVEN DEADLY BADS/ ME, MYSELF AND I

PLOT THICKENS

A good chef knows that in order to make a good soup, he should thicken it. I like my stories like I like my soup...when the plot thickens.

To get you up to speed, lemme take you back to when it all began. One afternoon when I wasn't on the internet learning rain-dance moves to summon a typhoid demon to attack my roommates, an incident occurred in the room. Long story short, there was a dead body in the room. I had no doubt Seth was responsible. See my wimpy roommates have no backbones and are coupled with the belief of finding a soulmate in a roommate. So his influence on them was strong, and he often manipulated them. He was the alpha of the room, and I was more of an outcast, some sort of lone-ranger. I was immune to his influence; I think we both knew I would rather get AIDS in my ear than listen to his orders.

Seth was a dark fellow, and always had an attraction to death. If he went on a date with death and the devil, he would make the devil feel like a third wheel. So it was just a matter of time before he turned both our roommates into killers.

Dramatic sigh There comes a point in life when you have to step out of your comfort zone and enter a new zone (e.g. Friend zone). So I had to decide whether to join my psycho roommates and become a killer or be killed. Having said that, it brings me to my acting. I'm a part of the murder squad now, and I have to play my part. I have to act crazy, act like I enjoy killing and one day, when Seth least expects it, I will kill him and enjoy it for real, no acting this time. But for now, murder squad is where I belong.

I’m practically second in command. The past couple of months have been a little crazy; this killing stuff is starting to get addictive. When I’m not killing humans, I’m torturing animals. Just the other day, I killed a rat in front of its kids. I tossed the dead mother back, and her kids rushed and ate her, gouging her eyeballs out. I even started taking my killing more seriously these days. Seth hardly complains nowadays.

I won’t lie, the killing got to me and messed me up a little in my head. Now I think I’m the most psychotic killer of the crew; I love every role I play. But don’t get me wrong, Seth is still the most gruesome killer. There’s this other guy we call Shakespeare (dunno his real name, don’t care). He loves to leave poetic notes. We make a good team.

My acting starts the job, I fool the victim, coax them until I have their trust. Seth takes over and does most of the killing. Then Shakespeare finishes it off with a touch of poetry. He arranges the body in a certain way or leaves a poetic note, ‘Poetic Justice’ he calls it.

Mandy just disappeared (probably Seth’s doing). She became a silent member of the team. She grew more quite as each kill grew more ghastly. I guess Seth finally decided she was no longer useful and decided to X her out. Funny, if we X-ed each other out we would become the X-men.

Anyways, any successful serial killer, will tell you killing the same prey eventually gets boring. We became too good a team; everything became too easy. I slowly began to crave a new challenge, a change of scenery perhaps. So I came up with this elaborate plan of standing for the wrong trial. If I could convince the jury and the rest of the world to believe me, then I could convince just about anybody in the world. And this, of course, was good for the murder business.

As I sat contemplating my next career decision of whether to begin a new career in jail and breaking out eventually, or plead insanity, get sent to an asylum and breaking out, eventually. I couldn't help but wonder how big the smile on the original killer's face was as I took his fall. This killer or ‘the black widow’ as the media called her would only attack drunk males notorious in the adultery world. And rumour has it; she would leave a rose at each death.

NTS: You drunk buffoon. The black widow is a character from one of your other stories you are too lazy to complete. The real killer is called ‘THE PERFORMER,' because he takes a bow after every crime. So the performer is probably smiling in a shady corner of his apartment as he’s watching the trial.

*THE VERDICT IS.......NOT GUILTY*

All the focus switched to me waiting for my reaction; nobody even paid attention to the judge as he bowed to me acknowledging yet another of his acts. He smiled at me as I smiled back when suddenly, his face turned into a state of shock as he realised what he had just done. You see, when a killer meets another killer, they exchange a smile, it’s the polite thing to do. Likewise, when a demon meets a fellow demon, they exchange smiles, again, it’s the polite thing to do. However when a demon meets the devil, he doesn't smile, it’s far from polite. He actually fears for his life and the uncertainty of being at arm’s length with the devil.

So his smile faded as my smile grew three times bigger because I was three times the killer. You see, the murder squad isn't Seth, Shakes and me, it really is just Me, Myself and I.....

To be continued…

(Optional reading material)

P.S: A big shout out to Heineken. An hour of daily gazing into the skies and a few bottles of you makes a good story. Only wish you were cheaper on weekends… and weekdays.

P.S: A big shout out to those of you that read my story MURDER SHE WORE. Part two will have an interesting twist/connection as this may have to be another mental trial. (spoiler alert.)

Finally NTS: need to write next story sober.

NTS: final one I promise. Need to write next story tipsy….no, nope. 100% sober, challenge accepted?

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