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You created me. In the darkness, you created me. You also created the ground I walk on, the air I breathe, the stars I gaze at when I need a moment of peace from the maddening shouts in my head. Those shouts, you created them too. You are the Master, the Lover, the Giver, and dare I say it, the Hater?
And so I pray to you. Not for forgiveness because I am at peace with my sins and at peace with the mistakes and the actions I've made and endured. You would be proud of me on this point. They are my actions. You know my actions, yet they are my own ...
... her face shudders, soaked in a maroon blush highlighting her trembling fear. Tears and mucus mix like oil and water at the tip of her chin and drip to the beat of her stuttering sniffles. Her tears, they feel no pain for her, no sorrow. They are the by-product of action like shit from the ass. No feeling, none at all. And none from me.
She looked so cute and innocent in her Sunday church clothes, dressed like a budding slice of Spring. I adored her. I had to have her. And so I stole her from under the watchful eye of her parents.
That line makes me laugh, you know. Stealing her was one of the easier things I ever stole. Even easier then when I stole the seeing eye dog from a blind man right when he was crossing the street. At least the blind man sensed I was coming. These parents were oblivious to the vultures encircling their ten-year-old daughter. On the other hand, maybe I'm being too hard on them. I mean, I did steal her at church where they should feel safe.
And so I did what any man in my particular situation, faced with the cacophony of cries I hear every second, would do: I raped her. Right in the old one hole. Then in the two hole, then back in the one hole. Oh! the sensation of my cock tearing through fresh baby flesh ... indescribable ... and such screaming, such blood. More screams, more blood. I had to cut out her tongue to teach her a lesson, a lesson I might add, her parents should have taught her a long time ago. That lesson being that we are all abandoned on this earth to meet our own fate, no matter what it is, and that NO ONE IS HERE TO HELP YOU! Then, when the lights fade, and the crying stops, and the puddle of tender flesh is nothing more than just flesh, breathing periodically from an unconscious instinct to live, I can wrap my hands around her brittle little neck and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze and unleash all of my anger and all of my contempt, and await judgment ...
... they had no idea. Who would? Not these two fags. No, they were clueless to the consequences of their actions. They just wanted to fuck, those silly little faggots. Always craving cock and balls and more cock and more balls to fill their orifices like it was perfectly natural.
I met them at a gay bar. I did nothing to lead them on or to trick them. They desired me. They initiated the conversation; they bought me drinks; they offered to fuck me. I did nothing but smile, drink my elixir, and follow their wishes.
I hope this doesn't surprise you. I can be quite charming and deceptive even without saying a word. Really, I can. The trick, and I learned this a long, long time ago, is to dangle in their faces that which they desire.
Anyway, the tall one with bleached hair and a tender, Carolina accent was the more aggressive of the two. His goal in life, and these were his exact words, "is to suck cock for as long as I'm young and beautiful." The other one, the one that longed to be a woman (as if You make those kind of mistakes), was more submissive. One bark of instructions and he stripped and laid back onto the bed. Another bark and he was letting me strap him to the bed posts, whining, "But I want to see," in his girlish Mexican accent, and I reassured him that he would see, all right, he would see it all. With one final stroke of weakness, I gagged his mouth.
The blonde one was more stubborn. He was a top person. This was not part of my plan. Fortunately, I can also be quite convincing when I need to be. I grabbed his cock, penetrated his eyes with mine, and assured him that he'll never want to fuck again once I get through with him. Convinced, he stripped and got on all fours over-top the other one so that they were looking at each other. Then they actually kissed! Those foolish little faggots.
And then the ending all began, with me fucking the blonde one in his ass and the other one in bondage seeing and listening but unable to move, and the rhythmic slapping of balls on balls sent trembling shock-waves through the other one's baby smooth body, resulting in a pulsating erection between his legs, and the blonde one begins to spiral into his own dream world of lust and sin as my cock tunnels into his ass, and the other one is looking right into my eyes in search of some fag connection, and then I grab a gun taped to the side of my bed and slip my dick out of the fag's ass and plunge the barrel of the gun right up as far as it would go-and what a shock he must have felt when the cold steel of sudden death surged up his anus and into his brain and registered for one split second the consequences of his actions before it actually happened and oh! I wish I could have heard his thoughts, to have heard his neglected cry for help-and the whole time I see the one tied up screaming and squirming under his muzzle and straps to help his fag friend but its all too late and Boom! the gun explodes and the bullet shatters the fag's ass, splattering blood and bone fragments across the room, and then like papier-mâché he crumbles onto the other fag who's screaming at this point and his erection, once the tall symbol of faggotdom, lay crippled on its side, awaiting its death.
And now the other one can sense his impending pain. I push the blonde one to the floor where he can slowly bleed to death. The other one, I do him a favor. He always wanted to be a woman so I let him experience what it's like to be a woman. I find the dullest knife in my house and slice off his cock n' balls. Presto! Instant cunt. And what else to do with a brand new virgin cunt then to pop its cherry, so I fuck away at that open wound until my white streaks of semen swim in the gushing pools of blood.
Ah! the real beauty of it all, a beauty I will always remember in my head, is that I could sit back after my madness and watch them slowly die, and I must admit, seeing Your chariot bring forth a new day, painting majestic colors onto the black canvass of night and hearing their whimpers and cries for help, I almost thought I was with You, atop Your throne, watching Time unfold into Your grand plan ...
... I remember the first time I killed a human being. It was harmless enough, really. Me and Adam were best buds, or so he thought. We were fifteen, right at that point when boys yearn to become men and all we want to do is hump until we can hump no more.
So there we were in his room. I had convinced him the best thing in the entire world, better than fucking a real woman, was to jerk off while being choked to death. I told him I did it myself once, and he believed me! Even worse, he trusted me. I told him we should tie a noose and he should stand on a chair and jerk off. Then, at the point of cumming, he should step off the chair and choke for a few seconds. Immediately after cumming, I would cut the rope and like a best friend only would, I would go next.
Well, there I stood on his desk with hedge clippers in hand while he stroked himself, and there he goes and steps off the chair and in a few seconds he shoots a load clear across the room and then clutches the rope while making these gagging noises which excited me, and for a moment, I felt like You must have felt the first time You killed someone for making the wrong choice.
When it was over, when Adam's naked body dangled lifeless from the noose, I strolled out of his house and went home. The next day, I confessed to Adam's weeping mother that he had acted strange yesterday, and when I had left, he had asked me to stay, and I told him I had to go home for supper, and that I was sorry for not staying with him. Then, she hugged me ...
... and so here I stand, with needle in hand, ready to execute another convicted criminal. It's my job, you know. Fifteen in all in my career. They say it's the humane way to execute criminals, lethal injection. No one notices when the criminal dies. I say, what's the point of that? If people really want capital punishment to deter crime, then everyone should witness a grotesque execution. Mutilate the son-of-a-bitch in front of everyone. Then they'll learn. Like when You rained fire and brimstone on Sodom and Gomorrah because of their grievous sins and saved only Lot and his two virgin daughters. Of course You turned Lot's wife into a pillar of salt because she looked back at the burning city, but still, the dumb bitch deserved it for testing Your kindness. Either way, I bet Lot and his two daughters were straight arrows after that. Or when You tortured Your only son in order to absolve the world of their sins. That was bad ass. But if no one knew of the pain Your son endured during his crucifixion, then who would believe in Your love for the world?
Of course You know that. You know everything. You're omniscient. If there's anything in this universe You didn't know, then You wouldn't be omniscient. And if You weren't omniscient, You'd be susceptible to mistakes, and if You could error, then we could doubt Your supremacy.
But of course You're perfect. I know that. I'm not doubting that. It's just that, well, I'm confused. I know what I've done, and I know I am evil. But why would You create me? How can good spawn evil?
And what of my choices? Did I choose to be evil? If I did in fact choose evil, then evil must have existed prior to me choosing it or else I would be creating evil, and we all know You created everything. Aside from this point, don't You already know what I will choose? My priest tells me You know all possible consequences of any decision I make, yet You don't know what my actual decision will be. Strange, because doesn't Your lack of knowledge as to my decision mean my decision is something You don't know? How can that be when You know everything?
I'm all confused, Father. I know what I've done. The question is, did You know what I would do? If You did, why would You let me do it? And if You didn't, well, that would shatter everything. And so I pray to You, dear Father, not for forgiveness but to give me the strength to see the Truth so I can wash away my doubts.
In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.
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