THE PERFECT PRESENT

MATHEW KAUFMAN

 

 

It was a frigid morning in Detroit. Jesus Christ... Seven months a fucking year, it was a frigid morning in Detroit. Darren Childs woke up. The snow outside reflected and intensified the winter sun. This was not where he thought he would be at thirty-eight years old. Living in his bitch-of-a-mother’s spare room.

Another day for a pathetic, worthless fuck... He wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned. His foul morning breath filled his nostrils as he exhaled. Darren stretched his arm out, searching for his glasses on his heavily worn side table.

He knocked several McDonald’s cups over. The foul stagnant fluid spilled onto the nightstand.

“Fuck!” he yelled as he slammed his fist onto the table. More plastic drink cups jumped into the air. The sticky fluid splashed on his bed. Darren flicked the liquid off his hand and dried it on his bed sheet.

He stood and stretched before picking up a piss-stained pair of underwear off the pile of trash at the foot of his bed. He pulled them on and walked out of his room. His feet crunched across an open bag of Cheetos in the hallway. Darren lifted a leg and blasted a foul cloud of gas.

“Ha!” he laughed aloud.

Darren descended the stairs toward the sound of pans banging in the kitchen. He rounded the corner, scratching his chest. His mother, Cyndi, was bent down reaching for a rusted frying pan in the lower cupboard.

She was dressed in her whore outfit again. Cheap, overly tight, torn-crotch, blue jeans. She wore an open-top, low-cut shirt and, of course—like a true whore—no bra. It might have been fine if she was twenty, but she wasn’t. She was fifty-six years old.

“Jesus Christ, Ma... Put a fuckin’ bra on. Your tits are hangin’ like oranges in tube socks. You ain’t turnin’ nobody on with them things!” he ridiculed.

She turned her head and looked back at him, a look of disgust emblazoned on her face.

“Look who’s talkin’. Looks like you rubbed a stick-o-butter on them undies,” she fired back. “Ain’t you gotta work?”

He did have to work. But it wasn’t his normal job. It was Christmas Eve. He had his other job.

“Yeah. Not ’til late though,” he confirmed.

“Good. So you have time?” she asked.

Without waiting for a reply, she moved toward Darren. She kneeled in front of him and gently tugged his underwear down. She took him into her mouth—

Why...? I don’t like this... I don’t like this... I don’t like this... Fuck! Why am I getting hard? This is so fucked! I never should have let this happen. I was so young though. Is this MY fault? I know she has been lonely since Dad left her, but come on.

Sucking and fucking and doing this shit with your son is so—FUCKED! Why did he have to leave? He was an asshole, but at least he never did this! Why is this exciting me? I shouldn’t be so turned on.

Fuck. Why am I letting this feel good? Why did it feel so good when I was fourteen? Why did she have to ruin Christmas? A blowjob is not a gift for your son... If I could have just told her no then... Maybe she wouldn’t have kept doing this. Maybe... Oh...

Maybe if I hadn’t let her do THIS, then I wouldn’t have a fucking kid with my mother! Oh... Oh... Fuck...

“I’m g-gonna—” he stuttered and took hold of her hair. He pulled her in tightly.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?

 

*

 

Cyndi pulled up his underwear and stood. She returned to her duties as though nothing disturbing had taken place at all. Disgusted, Darren walked out of the kitchen and hurried to his room. Tears rolled down his face and dripped across his crooked smile.

Looks like it’s gonna be another fucked-up Christmas. Walking back to his room, he picked up the bag of Cheetos. Grabbing a fistful, he opened his mouth and tossed them in. A cockroach crawled out from inside the bag onto his wrist. Darren flicked it away and continued eating.

He dressed, no shower, and returned to the downstairs.

“I’ll be back later,” he said to his mother before closing the door.

There, in the driveway, sat his 1970-something Ford Econoline van. It was a putrid, light pea-green color. Well, the parts that weren’t rusted were anyway. He kicked through the December snow and shuffled his way to the driver’s door.

It opened with a loud creaking noise. Darren entered and started the engine. Time to go see what the day brings. He fastened his seatbelt, put the van in drive, and pressed down on the accelerator.

The van lurched into the street and he drove off toward the local Walmart. Walmart had been a favorite place of his to go “looking” for his special projects. The beautiful thing about Walmart is the goddamn place never closes. So where else would I go to look for some shit-ass parent that waits until the last minute to go out and buy presents?

Yeah, yeah. I know. They are doing their best to provide for their children. Maybe they can’t afford to buy presents or food or whatever. I’m not Barack mother-fuckin’ Obama. And I sure ain’t that saggy-titted bitch Hillary Clinton. A parent’s got a responsibility to take care of their child. They have to put them first. Not sometimes. Not once in a while. All the fucking time! I am so sick of shitty parents taking advantage of their kids.

“No, Jimmy, you can’t have that Transformer. No, Bobby, you can’t have that Butterfinger. Come on, Darren, just relax. It will feel good, just relax for Mommy.”

NO! Never again! Not this year. I’m gonna find her and I will teach that bitch a lesson!

Darren mashed the gas pedal to the floor. The van coughed out a cloud of black smoke and sped faster down the street. In no time he found himself arriving at Walmart. As he pulled in, he looked for a parking space that would be sufficient, one that had a good view of people arriving and one that would allow him to not stick out like a sore thumb in his rust bucket of a van.

That was not going to be easy. The parking lot was packed with herds of cars. Nearly every make and model was represented in the lot.

Darren circled the rows like cowboys wrangling cattle. He inspected each vehicle and looked for signs that the owner was—Holy Shit!

There it was, just sitting there! A piece-of-shit fuckin’ beater van. It’s fucked-up paint fit right in at the parking lot in Walmart. The afternoon sun was setting, so Darren drove the van around to the front. The van sat parked in a clearly marked handicapped spot. No handicap plates, no handicap placard.

Even from his own vehicle, he could see that there, in the third row seat, was an unfastened child seat. Just sitting there. He backed his van into a parking space that bordered the lot’s edge and turned off the engine. Darren reached under the seat and retrieved a small, black CaseLogic cassette case from under the seat. He fumbled with the zipper.

Once open, he selected a cassette labeled “Christmas” and slid it into the in-dash cassette player. Bing Crosby’s voice broke the silence as he sang, “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” Darren leaned back in the van’s bucket seat and began to bob his head along with the music. He faded into thought, remembering the first time—

 

*

 

“She had been such a foul cunt, the way she glared at her kid. She was supposed to love her child. Like a mother should. Instead, she looked at her with disdain. She walked out of Walmart, practically dragging her youngest by the arm. The small girl couldn’t have been more than seven.

The news announced later that her name was Suzy Stephens and her mom’s was Hollie Winters. The fucking bitch couldn’t even keep her legs closed long enough to land a husband. Hollie jerked little Suzy’s arm a few more times, dragging her to the car. She puffed on a slim cigarette and blew the smoke right at Suzy. What a bitch.

She pissed me off so much... I got out of the vehicle when I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted her dead right there, and I didn’t give a shit who saw. I stormed right at them as they walked to the car. I reached into the back of my pants, grabbing hold of the K-Bar knife that I had tucked in there earlier. I was on them in no time.

I went to draw the knife. This was it. I was going to help this poor child. I made one last step toward Hollie. She didn’t even see me. I could have stabbed her ten times before she knew what hit her. That is, if it wasn’t for the ice.

During that last step, I slipped on a sheet of slick, black ice. My shoulder collided with Hollie’s. I shoved the knife back into the sheath just before I smacked the asphalt, hard! I was embarrassed, but what pissed me off more was what that bitch said.

“Watch where the fuck you are going, dipshit,” she balked. “Dumb-ass.”

Right there, I knew: this bitch had to die! I watched from my back as she jerked Suzy’s arm and drug her to her van. I had been too distracted by rage to notice that Hollie was dressed very nicely, and poor Suzy was wearing clothes that were much too small for her. She looked so cold. Hollie really didn’t give a shit about her.

This year had to be Suzy’s best Christmas. It HAD to be!

I picked myself up off the ground and carefully walked back to my van. Hollie drove past me and added insult to the ordeal by flipping me off. I was gonna make that whore eat those fingers. I brushed the snow and gravel off my backside and got in the van.

I turned the key, it roared to life, and I slammed it into gear. I couldn’t risk losing her. I tailed her from a distance so she wouldn’t see me. I felt like MacGyver or some shit. My heart pounded in my chest. It was exhilarating. I trailed her for a few miles until she made a left turn into Rosebloom Trailer Park. What a dump.

I could see that the complex was very small. Bags of trash were scattered across “lawns” like ornaments. I didn’t want her to see me, so I parked at an apartment complex across the street and watched to make sure she didn’t leave. I waited until the sun went down. Then, it was time.

I had worn the brown Carhartt overalls and matching jacket I bought with the money I stole from Ma’s purse. Snow had started to fall again. This was exactly the white Christmas I had hoped for. It took ten or so minutes to find the vehicle that Hollie had drove off in. It was parked in front of a dilapidated trailer.

Blackish-gray shutters hung loosely from the un-curtained front window. They occasionally slapped against the trailer’s aluminum siding. As I peered through the window, I could see clearly that the noise didn’t even draw attention. I was sure that would work in my favor.

I took refuge in a row of bushes and spent some time watching the goings-on inside. Hollie could be seen shuffling through the house wearing only her bra and panties. What a slut. She walked to the refrigerator and removed a box of Franzia wine.

She poured herself a plastic NASCAR cup full of it. The box was obviously reaching empty, as Hollie tipped it, draining all of the remaining contents into the Jeff Gordon cup. She took a long drink from the glass and retrieved a candle from the drawer next to her. As she lit the candle, she twisted the holder. Two wings of four candles came into view. A menorah? She was using a menorah for candlelight? Jesus Christ...

I felt sick watching that bitch. She reached over to the shelf next to her and picked up a book. I strained to look at it. It was obviously one of them dirty chick books. Golden Surrender. It had that Fabio guy on the cover right under the name Heather Graham. That guy really needed a shirt! Nipple man! Ha! Yeah, I was a bit terrified that I knew who Fabio was but, fuck off. I was more surprised that she could fuckin’ read than of what happened next.

She leaned back in her chair and unsnapped her bra. Uh... What the fuck was going on? The bra slid loosely down her arms as her breasts popped into sight. The worst thing came next, though. That filthy slut took a Jew candle from the middle of the menorah and shoved it right inside her pussy. The damn windows were open! Anyone could have seen!

That was it. It was my time to move. I sprang to my feet and ran across the street until I reached the bottom of the steps. I removed a paint scraper from my back pocket and quickly shoved it into the door jam. With one stiff smack of my hand on its butt, I was in.

I moved rapidly across the room. Funniest thing I ever saw. When I got to her, I punched her in the face as hard as I could, but she was still fuckin’ herself with that Jew candle. HA! It popped out of her crotch like a cork from a pop gun. I almost pissed myself.

Anyways, she slumped right away and I put her in a headlock and drug that bitch out of the trailer. Little Suzy never even knew I was there. I got her outside. That was the hard part, until I realized that I’d parked the van across the street and forgot to move it here. FUCK!

What do I do? What do I do? I freaked the fuck out. I had this naked bitch in a choke hold, standing in the dark outside. There was a small snow bank next to her steps, so I punched her a few more times to make sure she was out. If she woke up, I could still bail, I supposed. And I ran for the van.

My heart raced as I jumped in the driver’s seat. I turned the key and the engine came to life. I hoped that she didn’t do the same! I drove as inconspicuously as possible to the trailer. When I got close, I saw she was still in the snow. Part of me wanted her to be gone ’cuz that would be a great news story. “Someone broke in my house—while I was fuckin’ myself—with a big ’ol Jew candle—” Ha! That would have been so awesome.

Oh well. I jumped out of the van and slugged her in the face for good measure and drug her into the back of the van. Shit, I was scared, but it was exhilarating! I “quietly” slammed the back doors and hopped in the front. I didn’t even remember to tie her up! I was such a dumb-ass. Luckily for me she didn’t wake up.

I drove to Uncle Sam’s storage. Uncle Sam was a used-up, fat, fuckin’ Vet that couldn’t let go of the four years he served. I’m sure he repaired staplers or some shit while he was in. He was curious why I rented such a big storage. I got one just big enough to get the van in, but I told him it was for a boat. I had to listen to his dumb-ass talk about all the fishin’ he and his Army buds used to do. Whatever, fuck off already.

When I got there, I hopped out and opened the door and drove the van inside. I closed the door and locked it from the inside. Holy shit, I actually did it! Now it was time for the good stuff. I grabbed the chest I had previously stored and drug it to the rear of the van. I retrieved the rope from inside it and opened the van doors. I had stashed a few construction lights, the kind that are on stands too. I plugged them in and aimed them in the back of the van.

I selected a few tools from the toy chest and hopped in the van with them. I quickly used the rope and tied up the parent of the year. I started to relax finally. I slapped her a few times to wake her up. It didn’t work. I grabbed the ammonia inhalants I bought on Amazon and cracked one open. I didn’t know how to use it so I shoved it right up her nose.

It worked!

That bitch screamed! LOUD! I wrapped some rope around her mouth as a makeshift gag. I started to calm her down. I realized that she still had the ammonia in her nose. I bet that shit burned. I left it in—fuck it!

I grabbed my Mountain Dew from the cupholder up front and sat down next to her. We talked. Well, I talked. She freaked the fuck out! I told her all about how great of a mom she was. Oh, I forgot to mention that I was also cutting off her toes one at a time with a pair of rusty, old tin snips while I recited the merits of her parenting.

Blood spurted across the back of the van. After I snipped each, carefully painted I might add, toe off, I looked her right in the eyes while I poured rubbing alcohol onto each wound. Ha! Wouldn’t want her to get an infection. Her face turned pale, from the shock I guessed. The ammonia seemed to keep her awake pretty good though.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice back there in your trailer... You were fuckin’ yourself. You know that your daughter is in that house right? Do you get off on knowing that she is that close to you while you are doing that? Well, since you like to shove shit in your cunt...” I unzipped my pants.

I wasn’t gonna fuck her. She was a filthy bitch, but it sure freaked her out. Her eyes got all big and shit. That was when I knew I had all the power, and it felt good to use it. I was getting a little freaked out though. Beginner’s nerves I guess. So I set aside shoving shit in her and moved to her fingers.

“Remember when you flipped me off bitch? Do it again.” She shook her head no, obviously terrified, so I pulled out my K-bar and touched it to her left titty, right at the nipple. I yelled at the top of my lungs for her to flip me off. All she did was cry and shake her head no. So I made good on my threat. I sliced off her nipple like a piece of pepperoni. Ha! She screamed loud again. Well, as loud as one could scream with a mouth full of rope, no toes, and a missing nipple.

This time when I told her to flip me off—surprise, she did, I hacked off the other nipple. Why not? I was in charge. I laid the pair of nips on the wheel well behind me. I wasn’t sure what I was gonna do with them, but I had time to figure it out.

Now, back to the fingers. I grabbed her right middle finger, the one she flipped me off with. I toyed with it for a minute. I bent it forward and backward through its range of motion until she relaxed just enough. Then I grabbed it as hard as I could and bent it backwards until it snapped at the base. Have you ever heard a finger bone crack? It’s loud!

I moved her hand right in front of her face and wiggled the shit out of that busted finger. Man, that bitch sure did cry. Ha! Over the course of ten minutes or so I snapped each finger’s bone, and then one at a time I cut through the flesh with my K-bar. Each finger plopped to the floor of the van, still wrigglin’! It was pretty funny.

I had an idea for them fingers though, so I rounded ’em up and put ’em in a small box. This bein’ the first time I killed anyone. I got a little worried and decided it was time to get movin’ with the rest of the plan. I set the finger box aside and leaned in toward her face. She looked at me—eye to fuckin’ eye. You know what that whore did?

Nothin’ ’cuz I punched her in the face and broke her pretty little jaw! HA!

She was out cold again. I was pretty much done with her any who, so I grabbed the sheet of plastic I had in the storage and opened it up behind the van and spread it out on the floor. I grabbed the hacksaw and set it in the back of the van while I drug her out by her legs. Once her legs were out of the van, I started with her right leg.

I pressed the saw against her leg and began pushing and pulling it against her skin. Like a hot knife through butter, her skin flayed open. I thought it was gonna be easy the whole time. But I couldn’t get that damn saw to bite into her kneecap. That shit was tough. Until I smashed the fuck out of it with a ball-peen hammer anyways.

After that, the lower half of her leg came right off. It was the same way for the other side. Smack, smack, saw, saw. I did the same at her thigh joint but used a crowbar to separate the ball of her femur from the socket.

Oh, after the first lower leg was off, I think she died ’cuz the bitch didn’t move. Even when I punched her right in the pussy.

I flipped her around after that and hacked off her arms, first at the elbow, then at the shoulder. As the parts came off, I stacked them in a pile like you would stack logs. Once that was done, I carefully removed her head the same way and set it next to the stack.

This was where I learned a VERY important lesson. I decided that I wanted to cut her torso in half. Why? Why the fuck not? Fuck that whore... So anyways, I tried to think of the best way to do it and settled on the hack saw.

I made the first cut just below the ribs. What’s the worst thing you ever smelled? Well, you ain’t never smelled nothin’ ’til you cut into a sack of shit! I don’t know what this bitch ate, but it smelled like she ate nothin’ but hot fuckin’ garbage. That shit was ripe.

But I was committed at this point, so I hacked my way through, retching a few times. The strange part was the smell was gross, but I learned the guts didn’t bother me. I actually felt accomplished when I got her all taken apart. I felt something, like pride maybe. Whatever. Now here is where shit gets good.

So, I grabbed the paper towels and boxes from the front of the storage. I laid out and separated each body part and gave it a wipe down. I assembled boxes of all sizes. Two of each size actually. I carefully lined each one with plastic. I matched the right size box with the right size limb and sealed a part in each one.

I assembled a perfect head-sized box, re-assembled, and sealed the head inside. Get this... Then I wrapped all the boxes in Christmas paper: Santa paper, Rudolph paper, My Little Pony paper. But the box with the head... I wrapped that in One Direction paper. The perfect paper for the perfect present.

It was almost 3:00 a.m. at that point and I needed to get a move on. I pulled the blood-covered plastic up and bagged it in Hefty bags. I did the same with the plastic from inside the van and the paper towels too. I bagged the tools. I bagged everything.

I threw all the bags into the van. I grabbed the nipples I had left in the back of the van and tossed them in the finger box. I loaded all the presents into the van. I took special care to load the present with the head in it up front so I could make sure it didn’t roll around. It needed to be the perfect present.

I grabbed the last box, marked “Suit,” from the front of the storage. I ripped open the top and pulled out its contents. I placed everything in its correct place. Everything had to be right. I was determined to give Suzy the best Christmas ever.

I stripped off all of my clothes right down to my underwear. I scratched my ass as I walked over to the box. I made sure it was empty before I gathered and tossed in all of my bloody clothes. I turned around; a smile filled my face. There, spread in perfect order, was my Santa Suit.

I put each piece on carefully and ensured that I tied every tie and knotted every knot. Everything was going to be great for Suzy. I was sure of it. I tossed the box of old clothes in the van with the hefty bags. The back doors closed with a thud that echoed in the storage. I turned off all of the lights and opened the door.

I backed out and drove straight to Suzy’s house, singing Christmas carols the entire way. I was a new man! I sang about packages, boxes, and bags. I sang about everything.

When I pulled into the trailer park I drove the long way around so I could see if the cops were there. To my relief, the lights were still off and a lone candle in the menorah was still burning. I shut off the van’s lights and drove to the front of the trailer. I put the van in park and shut off the engine.

This part was going to be tricky. I tiptoed to the front door and, as quietly as I could, propped it open. I slunk down the steps and opened the van doors. I grabbed the boxes full of arms and legs, trunks and torsos, but I saved the best two boxes for last.

I grabbed the box that had the head in it and the finger box. I prominently displayed the head box so it would be the first present Suzy saw. It was the perfect place. I scrawled the perfect note on it:

Suzy,

Open me first!

Merry Christmas,

Santa

What I did next, though, that was just for me. I walked to the still flickering candle, blew it out, and tossed it aside. I removed all the candles. Do you know what I did next? I jammed the fingers in the fucking menorah! It was perfect. Menorah fingers! Seriously—that shit was genius. Fucking menorah fingers!

Can you imagine being the person who finds that? Classic! Anyways, I left that shit up on the counter so Suzy couldn’t really see it. No sense traumatizing her on such a joyous day! I also picked up the pussy candle and jammed it in the center holder. I took a minute to look around. Everything looked perfect.

Merry Christmas, kiddo,” I said quietly as I walked out the door and closed it behind me.

 

*

 

Funny feelin’ ya get after hackin’ up a whore. I remember the next morning—TV programs all over reported this poor kid getting up and un-wrapping her mom’s body I took apart. Truth is, that is kinda what happened. I imagined it more like this...

The trailer was just startin’ to brighten up with the sun rising. Little Suzy opened up her little peepers and immediately filled with Christmas joy! Then poor Suzy remembered that she had to share Christmas with that fuckin’ cunt of a mother. The joy quickly left her young heart. But she got up anyway.

Little Suzy searched the house for dear old candle-fuckin’ Mommy, but lo and behold! that bitch was nowhere to be found. Suzy stumbled all sleepy-eyed into the living room and bellered something like, “Holy fuck, Santy Clause sure does love me! Look at all these goddamn presents,” or whatever kids say these days. HA!

Kids is so sweet and innocent. I imagined that she run over to them presents and hopefully read Santy’s note. I’m sure she grabbed the boxes and ripped the Christmas paper off ’em like a tornado ripping through the Midwest.

I can just see her bright little eyes when she opened up that perfect little present—the one with Mom’s head in it. She musta smiled from ear to ear when she saw that stupid slut was dead. I can almost see her kickin’ dear old Mom’s head around like a soccer ball. Running from one room to the next kickin’ goals.

I assume the cops came when little Suzy got hungry and there wasn’t no one to feed her. I shoulda left her a sandwich or something.

Them news people just don’t get what a neat thing I did for Suzy. I figured that what I had done was so good, and I wanted to keep doin’ it, that I would do it every year for Christmas. Boy, it sure took a while for them news folk to calm down about it. Poor Suzy lost her mommy. Fuck that shit! Suzy gained her motha-fuckin’ independence. Never again will Mom blow random faggots in her living room.

HA! Ding, dong the bitch is dead! HA! HA!

*

 

The next year was more of the same. I fucked up a lot less though. No trying to kill bitches in the parking lots. No falling on the ice. No being a fuckin’ pussy. I felt like Jesus come back to make folk pay for their misdeeds.

There wasn’t nothing special about that year’s stupid bitch. I started watching folk earlier, and I had seen this blonde bimbo going in and out of Walmart with different guys every fifteen or twenty minutes.

In between trips I snuck over to her van and popped open the back doors. The damn thing wasn’t even locked. I slid in under the seat and waited for her to return. I didn’t have to wait long. Two or three minutes before she came back, some nigger got in the front seat. I smelled skunk right after and knew he was smokin’ weed.

I can’t stand that shit. Soon enough, the van was filled with krunk... That’s what them colored folk called it I think. She hopped in and I heard them shuffle around, and soon enough his pants were on the floor. I know, ’cuz the belt hit me in the fuckin’ face.

I shimmied back a row and listened.

“Baby, you want this big black dick?” he said.

She replied something in her whore language and agreed to fuck him with no rubber. Anyway, they started buckin’ and fuckin’ and then my worst nightmare came true. A small little voice broke through the moans.

Mommy, when do I get to be a big girl like you? You said it feels so good and it helps pay the rent. I want to help too Mommy, the little girl said.

“Shit,” the darkie said. “I wreck that little pussy. I’ll even slip you an extra hundo if I can fill it up with cum.” That bitch said YES!

Soon enough, the poor little girl’s clothes were on the floor. That was it. There was no fuckin’ way I was gonna let this happen. When good ’ol Donnie Darko hopped back a seat, I grabbed my K-bar and shoved it right in his neck.

Sure, there was some screaming when he sprayed the back seat with his fuckin’ blood. Did you know they bleed the same color blood as the rest of us? I learned something new... Ha!

Anyways, I sprung over the seat and wacked that poor little girl’s face on the console and she went out like a light. I hope I didn’t hurt her too bad.

Then, there were two!

I grabbed the queen-of-the-blowjobs by the hair as she tried to grab for the driver’s door. I yanked her back and immediately began delivering a barrage of closed-fist blows to her dick-suckin’ lips. I heard some bones cracking as I punched her. I had to get her out before I broke her all up. So, there was always something I wanted to try.

I put that bitch in Sergeant Slaughter’s Camel Clutch. I choked the shit out of her WWF style! I couldn’t help myself. I started quoting Sergeant Slaughter.

When I’m through, scuzzbucket, they’re gonna scrape you off the walls with a squeegee!

I even quoted his lines from the GI Joe movie.

This is for Falcon! I punched her in the face.

This is for me! I punched her in the face.

This is for Duke! I punched her in the face.

And this is for the U.S. of A! I punched that unconscious bitch right in the mother fuckin’ tits!

Then I started to feel like a goddamn retard, so I threw her on the floor and hopped in the back to finish off the baby-raper. I yanked the K-bar out of his neck and gave him a little stabby-stab to the back of his neck. He was mostly gone before I got back there, but it was a good time anyways. Another sicko pedophile off the street!

I spit on the floor as I looked at my handiwork. That sure when to shit quick. Now I had to un-fuck the mess. Did I mention that I was covered in fuckin’ bright-ass red blood? I was soaked. Jesus Christ I was so wet. I used my hand and squeegeed the red liquid off my arms. I wiped the remainder on the second-row seatback.

Ok, the plan was—

First: Get the keys from the whore purse

Second: Drive the fuck-wagon to the storage

Third: Impart some holiday spirit on the slut

Scratch that.

Third: Tie up and gag the poor kid. Can’t let her see the surprise early.

Fourth: Impart some holiday spirit on the slut

Fifth: Sedate the kid and deliver the presents

Sixth: Merry Fucking Christmas!

It pretty much went exactly like that. I neglected to mention a few things that wiggled into the plan as well. So I have always wondered what it would be like to curb-stomp someone American History X style. The problem was that it looked like that guy got off too easy. This child-whoring-cunt deserved worse. And I had an idea.

After I fed the poor little kiddo a fistful of Benadryl and she was racked the hell out, I drug Mom’s still unconscious body out of the van. It just so happened that there was a nice curb near the door to my storage door.

It was nice and dark and I was so pissed it didn’t matter. Anyways, I drug her outside. She was bound and gagged, but I needed her awake for what was about to happen. It’d worked so well the first time that, again, I snapped an ammonia inhalant and jammed it up her nose.

Holy fuck, did she wake up fast! HA!

I could hear her mumbling away through her gag. Whatever. Enjoy the ability to talk while you can. I knelt and whispered into her ear. I told her that if she is absolutely silent during what was about to happen, I would let her go.

OBVIOUSLY, I was full of shit! I ain’t letting no baby-pimpin, gutter-slut live. She nodded yes and I untied her gag.

Bite the curb, I told her. She looked at me dumbfounded, like I said it in goddamn French. I leaned in again. “Put your cock-suckin’ teeth on the curb—NOW!”

Stupidly, she did. I immediately grabbed her by her hair and placed my knee on the back of her head. I wanted to be close so I could hear this. I moved my hands to either side of her face and pushed my weight slowly onto her head.

Now, I gotta ask, do you know what breaking teeth sound like?

Happy! That’s what!

As I pushed down I could actually feel the bone teeth grind down the porous cement curb. Every once in a while, a nice loud crack shot through the air as a tooth broke. She howled like a bitch as blood poured from her mouth and pooled on the curb.

Great, somethin’ else to clean up. Today was just full of inconvenience.

Anyway, I had to hurry up ’cuz I had a lot left to do. So I stood up and put a bit more of my wrestling knowledge to work and gave that bitch a Hogan-Leg-Drop. Unfortunately, I missed and slammed my ass cheek right on the back of her head.

Oops—HA!

Her jaw popped right off her face. It sounded like a tree branch snapped. It was awesome! I figured fun time was over and drug her back inside the storage unit.

From there I just did what I did before and hacked her up and put her in presents. With all the crazy shit that happened in the van, I never even got the little girl’s name. Oh well.

I delivered the presents dressed as Santa again, just like before. This time, I just left a simple note on the Justin Bieber wrapping paper.

Kiddo,

Merry Christmas!

Santa

Oh—yeah—back to today.

I guess the real rookie move was when I lit the van on fire under the bridge. I didn’t see that bitch joggin’ ’til it was too late. By the time I saw her face lit up by the fire, you stupid motherfuckers were already surrounding me.

By the way, I’m not crazy. I would have complied with anything you told me to do. I don’t like cops, but my issue isn’t with you. It’s really about—

You know the real shit thing about this entire deal? I did what I did because I give a shit about them poor kids. I really didn’t give a fuck about them Moms. I made them suffer because they deserved to fuckin’ suffer. Not them kids.

I don’t give a fuck what you or any other motherfucker thinks about me. I gave those kids the perfect presents!

So, ho, ho, fuckin’ ho...

 

*

 

Darren leaned back in his chair, rocking it onto two legs. His wrists were bound together by a shiny pair of Peerless handcuffs. He still wore the now badly stained Santa Claus suit. What a mess.

The detective whispered something into his radio and stood.

“Darren, you have a visitor. She says she’s your lawyer,” the detective said as he moved to the door. “I’ll be right outside.”

The detective walked through the door and nodded at the attorney as she stepped into the room and closed the door. As soon as she turned toward Darren, he could see she was carrying a large, black leather purse. He gasped.

“Mom?” he asked. “How did you—”

“Shh, we don’t have much time,” she said as she raised a finger to her lips.

“Time for what? I’m in jail,” Darren said.

“Oh, you know what I mean, young man,” she said with a glimmer in her eye.

Hollie walked to Darren’s chair and in seconds had his now stiff rod out. Without missing a beat she climbed onto it and forced its length into her.

“I wanted you to have the perfect present, baby boy,” she said as she rode him.

What Darren didn’t see was that his mother had grabbed a large-caliber handgun out of her bag. She held it behind his head out of sight as she prepared for the inevitable climax.

Darren’s face contorted as he finished inside her.

“I wanted you to have the perfect present. I love you,” she said.

A loud bang broke the silence of their embrace as the gun fired. Blood splashed on the wall to Darren’s right. His body went limp. The door burst open and uniformed police officers flooded the room and took her into custody.

The detective entered right behind them. He surveyed the room. A Santa-suit-clad Darren lay dead on the floor. His cock hung limp outside of the suit bottom and his brains were splashed across the wall.

“What a fucked up Christmas,” he said, shaking his head. Looks like I’ll be late tonight. Good thing I got my baby the perfect present.