I wanted to drink its blood.
Because it never wanted to know me.
But I didn’t bite.
It was going to wish it had even smiled.
Cutting would suffice.
It had ignored even though I saw it every day.
The cut was deep.
Rejection is a bitch.
It screamed and tried to thrash.
I took off my mask.
…I got its attention.
Revenge is arousing.
It couldn’t move.
Duct tape and rope did the trick.
It was going to be dead anyway.
I drank and I licked and I felt sick.
Irn Bru isn’t a favourite and it’s blood reminded me of Irn Bru.
It died and defecated and urinated.
The smell got to me.
I was sick.
The blood that I’d just swallowed flowed out of me.
That wasn’t very pleasant.
But no matter.
I’d ingested what I was curious about.
It was still.
I took off it’s clothes and lay it’s T-shirt over it’s head – I had enough of seeing the blood.
I wanted to look at its nakedness.
But the piss and shit put me off.
I had a hose.
And hosed it all away.
The T-Shirt, the blood, the shit and the urine.
I stopped and brought the T-Shirt back.
I tied it around its neck.
I hosed again, I hosed for a while.
Until everything stopped oozing or leaking.
You were now you.
I liked your pussy and tits.
I was aroused and wanted to fuck.
But that was wrong.
So I went to the corner and masturbated.
Your T-Shirt hid your eyes but that didn’t help.
I turned away so that you couldn’t see me.
Ironic really as you never did before.
But I kept glancing back.
It was good.
It was better than good.
I’ve never came like that before.
I’d finished but started again.
The second time was even better.
I saw my own blood in my hand.
I tasted it.
It was better than yours.
It was time to tidy up.
I read somewhere that a body was difficult to burn.
I had a lot of petrol. I’d been saving it up. And a rake.
And no-one would see.
And thanks to your indifference, no-one knew that I knew you.
No-one was anywhere near.
I’d brought sandwiches and beer and six ‘Womens Own’ magazines.
I saw you reading one once.
I like the pictures.
Also, a bottle of wine.
That’s for celebration when I turn you to ash.
You drank a lot of red.
I prefer white.
White is my favourite.
But I’d no way of chilling it.
I don’t enjoy warm white wine.
So red would have to do.
It was a good red.
It had cost me twenty pounds.
Image – Pixabay