goodness gracious great balls of fire

I could kill him. I should kill him. That fucking guido mother fucker. He doesn't deserve to live. I can taste his pompous self-worshipping attitude whenever I see him. He exudes that caveman complex I despise. He's a goddamn monkey. He acts like a "thug" even though he's from a middle-class family and wears Abercrombie and Fitch and Ed Hardy, he is the moronic drone of society. Acting like everyone else acts, does not impress me, does not even catch my attention so much. But this character he takes the fucking cake. He is the complete image of a tool. Dripping with superficialities, I couldnt even start to put my hate for him into words. You think your so fucking awesome, your better than everyone else.

Shit, I'll take an aluminum bat and erase that smug look right off his face. The second he sees me and notices the seriousness in my face and my presence, I see his confidence melt away, like one of those shitty teenage wannabe drug dealers who act like they dont give a shit then as soon as they hear sirens they're pissing their pants. He's not a man. He's a boy. I tell him its over and that there's no need to resist. But the funny thing is I want him to resist, I want him to fight back. As he's backing away from me saying things like, "what's your problem man?" STILL trying to look tough even though his voice is cracking and his eyes are starting to get watery, it takes all the enthusiasm, all the emotion, all the fun out of it. Even though I can think of all these reasons why I hate him, watchin him there I just didnt have the motive, the fire burning inside me to actually be so brutal. I guess I'm just an old fashioned nice guy like that. So I stop my slow advances towards him. I put the bat down. And I just stand there, kinda just looking at him. Not with the hateful, murderous eyes I had before, but more of a sympathetic look. I still had no respect for him, but I think I now had more of an understanding of him. He's just a vulnerable kid, whos just as scared of livin' and dyin' as all of us are.

That's when he looked around, smiled a jerky lookin smile and started pumping his arms up while shouting to everyone around, "that's right baby, you can't stop Diesel, not even with a weapon this mothafucka can't stop this!" I was almost schocked. I picked up that bat and hurled it at him. It rotated fully two times before hitting him in the temple with the fatter end. He went down so smooth and easy. It was at that point I picked up the bat once more and stood over him, mashing the knob-end into his face, breaking all of his teeth. He kept spitting a couple out every few seconds when he could catch a breath in between cries for help. After continuing this motion for some time, (at that point it all became kind of a blur) I stopped and turned the bat around, observing it in great detail. It was covered in blood. Looked down at the boy's face. It didn't look human anymore, it was purple and red and puffed up and caved in all over. I just remained still, staring down at his body. I didn't know if he was still alive at the time. I didn't really care. I looked up. There were people standing all around, staring. But no one really seemed too concerned, or upset. They were just watchin' i think. I clasped the bat tightly in my hands at the handle, my hands now covered in blood. And I took probably five more hard swings right into his stomach, and one more crack right into his throat. It made a squishing sound. Like when my mom used to make death by chocolate cake and would ask me to crush a bunch of oreos in a paper bag with my fist. I then calmly dropped the bat for the last time, looked up at the crowd, and said, "Have a good weekend everybody." And walked away.

Man, that guy was such a dick though, you know what I mean?