THE QUEEN IS DEAD:
You know there's something that I really must do,
And if you want I will tell it to you.
Are you ready cuz here I go,
If I go too fast, tell me to go slow.
I have a mission that I must complete,
If I don't I'll be in the water with concrete shoes on my feet.
I must go to England and after one night in bed;
I have to leave with the knowledge that the queen is dead!
I'm gonna take a gun, shoot it in her head;
Only then will I know that the queen is dead!
I'll take a knife and puncture her skull through her brain;
I will laugh as she screams in everlasting pain!
I will beat her to death with a wooden stick,
Then when she is gone, I will give her a kick!
I will put her in the water and watch her drown,
And when she is dead, I won't be wearing a frown!
I will choke her to death with some nylon rope,
And if it goes well, I might decide to kill the pope!
I will put bamboo shoots under her fingernails;
I will laugh in her face when she screams and wails.
I will hit her in the head,
Making sure she's dead.
Stick a knife in her chest,
Right through her breast.
Cut out her heart,
And tear it apart!
Grab hold of her arm and rip it off;
Make her stay there thinking, "I ain't so tough!"
She must learn a true fact that she didn't know before;
She will learn it as she's crossing over death's door!
A bullet will kill a man, woman, child or baby;
There's no ifs', ands', buts', or even a maybe.
A bullet will go through a pauper as well as a prince;
The same for a peasant girl or queen, they both shall wince!
Death comes to all, and to all comes death;
I will spit in your face as you take your last breath!
And when all is done, I will do it again;
Rape and pillage, kill and maim!
I will laugh at your pain, I will spit on your blood;
I will leave you to die in a puddle of mud.
I will kill all your children, and also your wife;
Make you watch this before I also take your life!
I am death, I am life, I am both into one;
Only when I am killing can I really be having fun!
I do not keep count of how many have died,
Of how many people watched me and cried.
And to all of them I laughed, and I am laughing still;
Because when you least expect it is when I make my kill!
I will watch you squirm like a dying worm, with your blood all over my hands;
Then you I will beat, from your head to your feet, it will be your final stand!
All of this because the queen must die;
It is now known to you, as was known to I.
Oh, I will take a gun and shoot it into her head,
And only only then will I know - the queen is dead!
***
John woke up. It was always a hard thing for him to do. Groggily he
pulled the covers back and sat up. He rubbed his puffy eyes and looked at the
clock. Squinting to read the time, the clock said 7:15. He dragged himself
out of the bed. He had a long, hard day ahead of him....
After breakfast he slipped into his denim coveralls and donned his
"CAT" hat. John was, by trade, a rancher. But he supplemented his meager
earnings by slaughtering his livestock so that he could sell the cold meat to
Winn Dixie. With a sigh, John headed out to kill some cows.
When he got to the cattle pen he noticed an unusual thing. All of
the cows were crowded around one, exceptionally big cow. John stared in
amazement at the cow. She was, as I have said, quite a bit larger then the
other cows that thronged about her. John thought to himself that this fine
bovine specimen would bring him quite a bit of cash. So naturally, he
gathered up some of his hands and together they herded her into the slaughter-
house. While they did this they were continually plagued by the mooing of
the other cows.
Finally when they had her in one of the slaughter pens, John dismissed
all of the hands so that they could attend to their other various and sundry
chores. John climbed up on the railings, dragging his trusty sledgehammer with
him. The head, covered with dried blood, was nicknamed "Cowbane" by John. He
then hopped over into the pen and petted the great cow to calm her. He then
hefted mighty "Cowbane". As the hammer rested high in the air, the cow mooed
very softly. The hammer came roaring downwards with a force that John knew
could not be shrugged off by any creature. The hammer impacted on the cow's
skull and splinters of bone shot forth in every direction. Blood spurted out
into the air in the dim light of the slaughterhouse. Gore and brain tissue
welled forth from the gaping cow. John nearly fell down when the cow turned
her head to him and mooed again. John stifled a yelp and brought the hammer of
death down again. More blood shot forth, covering him with a sticky crimson.
Again the cow mooed. John brought the hammer down again... and again....
The cow hit the ground with a heavy thud. By the time John was sure
that the cow was dead he let the hammer fall to his feet with a groan. He
wiped the gore off of his hands. As he shakily lit a Marlboro he heard a faint
mooing sound. He looked down at the cow. John staggered back, the lit
cigarette falling to the hay-covered floor. The cow twitched and began to lift
her great mass to her feet. It was a gruesome sight. The cow's head was
gaping with bloody holes and blood and tissue dripped from it. John screamed.
A single moo erupted from the cow's torn and bloody maw. John fell against the
railing, sweating profusely. From out in the cattle pen, John heard many moos
and the sound of shuffling hooves. The great cow mooed again and impaled John
in the stomach with part of her exposed spinal column. John screamed again.
Blood flowed. The cow gored John with vigorous intensity. The sound of mooing
filled the air. At last, the cow removed herself from John and he slid to the
floor.
There was a slight crackling sound and a small column of smoke rose
forth from where John had earlier dropped his Marlboro. A patch of flame
appeared and danced in the dim light. The cow struck John in the face with one
of her front hooves. The sound of cracking bones accompanied the gurgling
sounds of flowing blood. The cow mooed. The flames roared forth...
**********
Vanessa stared down the barrel of the gun. She didn't think it looked
particularly dangerous, just kind of ominous. She didn't even know what kind
of gun it was, she had just stolen it out of her father's desk when he was out.
She opened the chamber and noted with satisfaction that all six bullets were
there. Six were plenty, six were more than enough. She carefully closed the
chamber of the gun and put it to her left ankle and pulled the trigger. The
bullet came out of the gun with infinite slowness, it seemed to Vanessa. She
could just pull away, and it would all be ok. But she couldn't pull away. She
looked away from her ankle for a second, then looked back at it, and saw the
hole in the carpet. At first she thought she had somehow missed, but then she
looked at her ankle, with the neat little hole popped right through it. Right
through it. The blood started to drip down to her sneakers.
She pointed the gun at her right ankle and repeated the previous
procedure. And she still felt no pain. No pain at all. She stood up, took a
step, and collapsed. Her torn-up ankles couldn't support her. No problem.
She sat up, and stuck the barrel of the gun into her left elbow. She stared at
it for a moment before pulling the trigger. It was loud. For some reason, she
hadn't noticed the loudness with the ankles, but now she did. And this time,
there was pain. Oh, so much pain, hurts, hurts, hurts, so much pain, waves
of pain. Her whole elbow was ripped apart and blood was spattered everywhere.
She stuck the barrel into her right elbow, and pulled the trigger without
hesitation. This time there was no pain, and no noise either. Unfortunately,
there was no color either, as everything had turned sort of a light-grayish
white shade. Never mind.
Vanessa looked down at herself and thought. Then she knew. She
inserted the barrel of the pistol into her navel and pulled the trigger. Her
whole body jerked backwards and she was thrown back a few feet. She looked
down and saw just a large hole in the middle of her stomach. Vanessa felt
blood starting to drip down her legs and felt along her back. There was a hole
there, too. She turned around and saw that the bullet had gone right through
her into the dresser.
She heard feet running up the stairs. "Vanessa! Vanessa! What was
that noise! Vanessa! Are you all right?!" Her mother had come home. This
would speed things up a bit. Her mother walked in the door and staggered back
a step. She fell to the floor and stared at Vanessa, nearly hyperventilating.
"Oh my god, Vanessa! Vanessa, my baby, what happened to you?" Vanessa smiled
sweetly at her mother, inserted the barrel of the gun into her left ear, and
pulled the trigger. She heard her mother screaming in the background, but
right before she heard the screams, she thought, "What about my right ear?"
And then there was the noise again, only much, much, much louder than before.
Too loud. It felt like her head was exploding. She was vaguely aware of a
throbbing pain in her head, but wasn't concerned about that right now. She was
aware of a bright light, however, a very bright light. And she looked towards
it, then tried to look away, for it was blinding her. She couldn't move her
head. Then she closed her eyes, and felt the light burning against her
eyelids, and then her eyelids were on fire, and burned away. She screamed for
the first time since the whole thing had started. Then her whole body was on
fire, and she heard her mother's screams grow dimmer and dimmer until they
ceased.
******
"Thomas! Thomas! Come downstairs! Your father and I have something
to discuss with you!"
Thomas sat on his bed cross-legged, staring at the glistening surface
of the scissors. See how they shine and gleam in the light? See how they
sparkle? Thomas inserted one scissor into each of his nostrils. Hehe! They
tickle! And the blade is so cold! Well, nevermind about that. Thomas pushed
the scissors up into his nose. He felt something pop and felt the warm blood
start to drip, then gush, from his nose. He pushed up some more, but the
septum dividing his nostrils got in the way. Impatiently, he closed the
scissors, cutting it apart, then pushed up some more. The scissors started to
slip because of the blood covering them, but he still pushed them up. He felt
them stop against something hard. Hmm... must be a bone. He slammed the
scissors against it a few times, then pulled it out of his nose and smashed
them up with all his might. He felt the bone crack and give way right before
he felt a sharp pain in his head, then a peculiar tingling feeling spreading
throughout his body. He let go of the scissors and they dropped from his nose,
which was now nearly obliterated from his face. There was a spreading red mark
where his nose used to be. He felt no pain now, he felt very light, like a
feather. He felt himself floating... he wasn't aware of the blood pouring from
his face, or of the small trickle of blood starting to come from his ears
either. He just felt the immense ecstasy of floating on nothing, of peace and
warmth and light, all mixed into one. He rolled around on the air he was
floating on and a sharp knock on his head brought him back to reality. He
wasn't floating, he was on his bed, and he had just fallen off. He staggered
to his feet, wondering what had happened. His head hurt, but his nose was
killing him, so he walked to the mirror, and looked into it. He stared at
himself, and screamed.
*******
Bradley ran down the hallway as fast as he could and leaped with all
his might through the thick stained glass window. He heard it shatter, and
had a feeling like thorns scratching him all over his body. Opening his eyes,
he saw the ground coming closer at an incredible rate. He tried to maneuver
himself to land on his feet, but ended up landing headfirst. He covered his
head with his arms, and literally heard each bone shatter into several pieces.
His arms were bloody with pieces of bone sticking through the skin in many
places.
Then Bradley stood up. He walked to the intersection and jumped in
front of an oncoming vehicle. The screech of brakes was deafening as the
driver tried desperately to stop his car, but hit Bradley head-on anyways,
throwing him into the air. The car spun out of control, smashing into a nearby
store and exploding, killing the driver and two others.
Bradley started to stand up but noticed that he was missing a leg. He
tried to crawl but his arms felt like rubber, and looked like rubber too, bent
and twisted like a pretzel. Bradley looked up just in time to see the truck
surging forward. One of the big wheels ran right over his head. The skull
crunched like a potato chip under the huge wheel. He felt his blood, under
immense pressure, force holes through his arteries and skin, to squirt in all
directions. Then this tremendous pressure, it seemed, lifted from him, and
then there was nothing.
...and then there was nothing.
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