Benjamin Franklin

Chapter 1

Theres only one way to explain what happened to me, il start with a short sob story. I was at the bar I

always ask myself to arrive at 10:00 sharp hoping the people I expect to be off work, none of them

came. Sitting at the middle I could see the signature of the bar like a cliché ridden on its high horse.

“Frankies Bar”, with a fish below, no one dared look at it for longer than five seconds because the bar

owner liked to rape his waitress. A grungy stench enveloped the bar attracted to its stains, at its last

rites we said it was, waking to the corners just fashionable wallpaper hugged the walls. Nevertheless we

all came for the fine draft. She lept In the bar from her darkness, catching my eye as If to say theres a

light hidden underneath. She sat close by waiting for it to happen again; all too closely she watched my

drink drain.

As I always do in these situations theres a turnaround of fate for this night, proximity matches my

dignity so I went for it. “Welcome have you been here before?” I said. “yeah a couple of times, why

what’s the big shot” She replied. Understanding nothing is an error I peeped “ well why don’t I show you

something about this bar nobodies seen before ive got a bonus I need to get rid of, why don’t you join

me” as I point to the table underneath the moosehead. The table seemed forlorn with residence of the

undermined kind, the kind that takes that twenty five cents and laughs at the homeless person that

needs it. She didn’t even reply just followed as if to say the darkness left. She cracked as soon as we hit

the chair, “round of shots on me first, since you’re a nice guy” following that conversation I learned she

was a nurse at the local asylum, freaked me out a bit since I have some qualities im not too sure of. But

she was nice.

Didn’t take me long to get out of my reverie about her, boyfriends maim my soul. It seems as if every

chick that has one wants a righteous act against those who don’t. It only takes a few drinks and it gets

over my head. She followed me back to my vehicle short conversation ensued about how her father

couldn’t stand the way she kept her clothes on the floor when she was younger, and how I had the same

experience but I hated my brother for doing the same thing, Couldn’t have asked for a better date.

When the car locked under her request she seemed agitated, I soothed her by kissing her lips ever so

slightly like a passionate dove sweeping over a battlefield, wrapped around my car it was ever so sightly

for passerbyers. When she found my knife after I taunted her with it, like a doctor to a patient that’s 

had an adrenaline shot I attacked, we had the time of our lives slitting the back of her spine to reveal her

bodily sacredness I found her bloodworthy; she didn’t take long to turn black let me tell you ripping her

skin from the spine to abs revealing muscle strains attaching to my blade as if to say they’ve met there

match, sent shockwaves, it wasn’t fun for her can’t say the same for me, didn’t want to keep the car

anyway.

The body didn’t stink; I couldn’t believe that I was so scared before. Shovels sledgehammers 2 by 4s

everything I needed was in the back with her lust. It only took 4 hours, daylight swept across my bags

like redemption from a priest’s prayer. And when I drove home, sirens wept for a new day.

 

Coming home friedel avenue, like a humble flower pedels danced for a new home as if they knew as if 

they knew of what ive done. Her ghost wasn’t taken by surprised at what it was like for me that day, just

a chicken sandwhich and a coffee and smoke on my patio kept me sane. My patio isn’t that special of a

place but my room is sacred, a desk cabinet with knick nacks on top with a vase painted of daffodils.

Macabre paintings of a lost friend haunt my presence as if they understand. A twin bed surrounded is

where I lay for the night, another time; another place is where I want to be.

The next day couldn’t have been better, I went to the local grocery store they saw me, none of it could

last, he came up to me. “Hello my name is Darrell, I’ve been looking for my girlfriend do you know

where she is” holding up a photo, couldn’t tell if they were on a beach or a garbage dump. I replied “I

may have can you tell me more of her” He was in awe at his luck, I couldn’t understand if to please him

or take him for granted. “Here ill drive you to the last known location” I didn’t know if I should follow

him or not so I followed. Only him and I knew her the way he knew her, so I told him that I wanted him

to calm down, he was in a traumatic state making a scene right at the entrance of the grocery store, one

of the more local ones with a small parking lot and small garbage disposal unit. He couldn’t take his eye

off me, something felt odd about his presence. Taking time to tell me about her and what her routines

were I pitied him. He had a grave appearance of him but really he had short hair and an average build

about him the only thing that made a difference was his pudgy features. Taunting of a strong sense, I

cracked, “I want to show you where I last saw her”. We went to the dirt road hidden by occult trees as if 

to mast the dirt and rocks with shadow. Driving down wasn’t bumpy it’s a road many a times driven

through. He seemed worried as if to forget why we came here in the first place, I lept at that chance. ” I

want you to know that I knew her well” it took him by surprise as if to say he couldn’t last. The knife

wouldn’t of worked so I used my bare hands, his face was definitely pudgy wrapping my fingers around

his neck I could hear his vocal chords snap under the pressure. Blood pouring out of his mouth I wanted

to lick. It took about 5 minutes but my grip is tight. He could mutter a few words after it happened I

made him so. And it only took 10 minutes to bury him as fate has planned.

Another part of my story continues as if to say we lust for what was begotten, my job is of simple task,

taken to the extremes by my envious ways. Im a butcher, theres no taste for it until it comes for you by

luck.

I try to keep my hobbies separate, as my friends say I should. It will help with stress they say, I can’t 

name my friends as they can’t name themselves. Wendy wasn’t of good stature when she came into the

meat shop, I wasn’t allowed to speak to her as the posture she gave through said. We didn’t speak until I

saw her cry. I wanted it to stop because she knew, she knew of the love she had, a triangle I can’t 

comprehend. I talked to her cause im of the manic kind. “Of what meat interests you” she replied of 

shaky voice “I’ve come to talk with you about qualities of yourself that show through when I come here” 

is that so I replied. “you need to understand you know some of my friends, and I need you to

understand I saw you in that bar with her and she was with you, what happened that night?”