Chronicles of Larry: Enter the Larry.

            If I leave this life, would anyone care? That's not a rhetorical question by the way, so save it.



            I'm not here to play Go-Fish. I'm here for the higher purpose. The purpose of life. Or death. With that responsibility comes great power. Now, some say power is money...Bullshit. Money is just a means to hire power, not to be confused with higher power. Real, untainted, undiluted power comes from...welllll, we'll get to that later. Let's focus on the task at hand.



            The cigarette I smoke is almost a slice of heaven as the pearl white cancerous gas slides down my throat to enter my lungs. It's re-invigorating, in a sense, breathing in death. Yes, masochistic, anarchistic...blah, blah, blah. It all amounts to the same: We all end up in a pine-box under the dirt with pretty little flowers on top with a pre-made tomb that screams "KILL ME NOW PLEASE" and chiseled into it is "Judge not lest ye be judged." Ha-ha.



            The steel against my flesh feels almost unreal, the power it holds, the untapped energy... It's surreal. Surprise, Bitches. My breaths are shallow and loud, my figure completely black amongst a plethora of shadow. My heart pumping, I can hear the trillions of blood cells circulating through my body as if its hive mind communication. The potential and kinetic forces they wield... I smile to myself, throwing my cigarette down and grinding it out on the pavement with the foot. The foot. The foot. The foot. It makes the most obnoxious noise because the pavement is wet. It had just rained hours before. A cold, calculating rain it was, leaving me with nothing but planning; meticulous, unburdened planning. My mind was supposed to be here, but it left a little sticky note saying "Gone to find myself. Will be back. Leaving a high pitched ringing noise in place." Fuckin' bastard. I should permanently put him on the shelf. He's no fun anymore.



            If only.



            As the time ticks slowly by... I can only hope and wait for the right things to come and fulfill my...(Destiny? Hopes? Dreams?) Desires. Dastardly desires. Dirty desires. Deadly desires. All in that order of course.



            Now, waiting in this darkened alley-way, silence surrounds like a noxious gas. I'm standing right next to a doorway (To heaven? God only knows.) that is quite firmly attached to an ancient and large brick building that seems to be growing a few patches of moss. To the left is a large building, but sided with some sort of rough stone. Definitely not as old. The fuckers shoulda made matching color schemes huh Larry? Yea Larry, they shoulda... The most important part of the alley-way, the dumpster, lay 6 feet in front of me ready to gargle the garbage then up-chuck on command. What a beautiful piece of technology.



            I grip steel, feeling its abundant power, using my other hand to cinch up my hood. I can ever hear the rustling of the cotton on cotton action that occurs within the recesses of the hood lining and the string. Frictiony.



            "Larry, are you there?"

            "Yes, Larry."

            "What are you doing here, Larry?"

            "Well, we'll find that out in just a moment, wont we Larry?"

            "Yes Larry...Larry, be careful Larry."



            The door is sliding open! A fraction at first, for the initial push, and then fully. My heart is yearning! My vision becomes complete, my clarity is peaked. OH I AM SO ALIVE! My hand grips the steel so tight my knuckles hurt.



          "LARRY...WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

          "Shh Larry...It'll be over soon."



            I can smell the stink of alcohol and breath-mints and axe cologne. Mostly the axe. The man walks through the threshold. My stomach starts feeling a bit queasy. The "Man" steps outside. My heart is pounding so loud...I wonder if the "Man" can hear approaching enlightenment? Thud.Thud.Thud.Thud.Thud. The "Man" takes another drunken step forward. The door retracts automatically. Brilliant. Click! My silhouette now appears. The Reaper takes shape.



            I lunge forward, using my tensed up muscles as a spring, and plunge the steel into the weak flesh. The sickened, fermented flesh.



            The man gasps. His mouth slowly forms into a scream.



            "Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!"



            I stuck him right in the kidney. The drunk bastard. I turn the "Man" around by grabbing his shoulder and yanking. I look him in the eyes...Those pale green eyes...He is staring at me...My hooded figure...Complete silence, save the agonized gasping.



            My steel flicks a far off light in my uncovered hand. I hear a drop (drops?) of blood hit the damp pavement. In that moment, I am all powerful. I am Larry. Not your average Joe. Ha-ha.



            I bring the blade up to the mans chin, directly underneath with the tip pointed up. I look at fear, unmasked. I must look fuckin' bad-ass. I heave my right shoulder up, and twist my torso expertly. The steel goes directly into the soft spot, into the jaw, through the mouth and tongue, and into the nasal cavity. I hear the awesome crunch as the blade goes through the roof of the mouth. Just like biting into a Dorito. Ha-ha.



            "LARRY WHAT THE FUCK!?"



            The "Man" then had a resigned, even rested look. I quickly took the blade out and the blood started pouring out in thick gooey gobs.



            "Fuckin' A, huh Larry?"



            I quickly crouch, circle my arms around the subjects torso, and football tackle/ufc the cadaver into the dumpster.



            "That wasn't so bad now was it Larry?"

            "No Larry, but lets get the fuck out of here Larry."

            "Sounds like a plan Larry"



            I walk away with a brisk stride, sliding the steel and bloody hands into my hoody pocket. Job well done.