Chapter Two - Waking Up Naked Is Not Nice, But Dying Is Pretty Cool

  As I regain consciousness, I am finding myself back in that white padded cell. FUCK! Those walls look so tasty, I am going to get so fat.

  Unfortunately, I am thwarted in my attempt to chew my way out to freedom. In front my face, a screen suddenly pops up. Well, I say pops up, it was more like it came out of nowhere, like it was trying to get revenge for all the times that I killed all the foegies, with me jumping out from behind them, and screaming, “FROGS!!!!!!!!!!!”. Luckily, then couldn’t tell on me, as most of them had a dicky heart condition. I have the achievement for the youngest serial killer. Currently my body count stands at roughly 4 people. I swear I’m trying hard, but the nougats keep on getting younger.

  What the HELL, where did that come from? Get out my head.

  I swear, I have never killed a soul in my life. Unless you count the countless computer characters, I love to kill the shit out of them, I especially love when I shot them in the nuts, grab them, then throw them over the side of a cliff and watch as the fall arse first onto an iron spike.

  Again, WHAT THE HELL? I need to wake up, the evil twin is starting to take over. Of course, that does sound like fun. Maybe if I get the chance, I could sneak behind Wonderboy and…..

  I need to leave.

  As I was trying to say, before the nice man in my head interrupted, a screen had appeared before my eyes. Finally, he is staying quiet. Maybe you should try to quietly read this so he doesn’t get any ideas. *Shush*. HE’S BEHIND YOU. Nah, just faking you. Or am I? Can you feel that shiver running down your eyeball? That’s me, I’m in your head now. Hahahahaha. Ha. Ha. Hmmm. I thought it was funny. Maybe you should get a sense of humour. Like a regular person. Because you special. Like a pile of poo. A pile of poo doesn’t have a sense of humour, so you must be related. Or maybe you did find it funny. Go see a quack, or a priest. Or better yet, set up a temple in my honour, so everyone may know your insanity. Just stay away from the children. They are for dinner. Yum!

  I don’t feel well, I am going to go for a little lie down now. Bugger, I forget, no body to go to sleep in. Curses. A curse of weakness maybe, or maybe I should cut my wrists, that definitely can make you sleepy. Oh, right. Dang!

  Well nuts. Either I could hang around here, maybe see if my evil twin man in my head will offer any help advice, or…… No, just say it, nobody is around who can hear me. Probably. Just get it over with JJ. Here goes…. Maybe if I wait around, they will get bored and just kick me out.

  Waiting….

  Waiting….

  Nope, nothing is happening. Then again, it is bloody hard to tell the time in this space, I wonder how long it has been?

  Guess that proves it, whoever is putting up those messages is a total liar. For I have the patience of a god. Admitted, a god that is not very good at staying still. Fine, a god that is worse that a infant on Adderall and subsequently discovered squirty toothpaste.

  But it has definitely been long than a minute. Maybe a minute thirty. Looks like I won’t be able to believe a single more word out of these pop-ups. Okaaaay, they are probably being generous.

  Here goes nothing. Literally.

  Balls. “I’m a complete and utter tosser who has tiny lady hands.”

  Again, Balls!

  The first and most important fact that you can learn about me, is that I don’t startle awake. I slowly come to consciousness, so I can gauge if there are any persons near me, then I will start screaming “FIRE!”. Hopefully one day, my telepathic attack will finally work. I’ve heard that humans taste like chicken. I like chicken. People chicken. Deep fried chicken tasting people. Ummmm. I think I am getting slightly hungry here. You smell good, come closer please.

  Slowly waking, I can feel a cold surface pressing into my back, and a lancing pain is coming from my arse area. I can’t sense anyone near me, so a quick snack is out of the question. Slowly, I begin to squint my eyes open. Hmmm, clinically white ceiling, bright lights, and a wall of metal to my right. I must be in my mum’s room. She is a part time dominatrix. She likes to call herself a ‘Lawyer’, but we all know that this is a conceit she uses so doesn’t damage my sensitive ears. She merely likes to take men back to her room, and doing the prey mantis thing she has going on.

  On second thoughts, maybe I’m not in my mom’s room, as there seems to be a dead body on my left. Could still be her room, and maybe she got a little carried away. Maybe snack time is still on the table. Literally.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Looking down on myself, I notice something slightly odd. A line is running up from navel, to the middle of my chest, with two diagonal line trailing from each should to all join in the middle. I would have maybe thought that I was in a morgue, things do seem to be pointing that way, except for two details that I hope I would notice.

  The first would be the lack of pain. Seriously, I know that I am a little messed up in the head, but even I would notice a searing pain of being cut open, my organs snatched out, used in a game of happysack, then carelessly chucked back into the cavity known as MY chest. I’ll sue if anyone has dared to touch my organs without my permission. I’ll see if I can get him for rape. No way was I in any condition to consent to being played with like this. If they had asked nicely, maybe it would be a different story, probably not, so I swear by all that is annoying that I WILL get my revenge.

  The second detail missing, or maybe not missing but certainly inconsistent with being sliced and diced, is that the lines are fading quickly, and pink around the edges, like they had been healing for a few months. Maybe I am in a hospital and the dudette next to me is actually sleeping, like a dead chick, Goth style. I turn my head gently to the left, don’t want to tear anything, unless the pretty lady would like me to rip something to shreds, I am a desperate weirdo you know. Still a little big groggy from not yet being fully awake, I carefully reach over, and nudge her shoulder.

  “BOO!!!!”.

  But seriously, I think I would have preferred to have the shit literally scared out of me, rather than the dire confirmation that she was dead. Unless the ladies really are cold blooded. Ice cold. That would like up with my experiences with the fairer sex to date. But her lips are blue. Maybe weird ass lipstick. Sorry, but I am so not into the whole necrophilia dealio. So for arguments sake, let’s just call her as playing for the angels now.

  I gently ease myself into a sitting position, and take a more detailed look at my surroundings. Okay, it is definitely a morgue, no doubt about it. Little doubt, because I have never visited one before, but hopefully only the professionals would make a setup like this one. Puke green tiled walls, except for the bank of draws, presumably containing more dead bodies, metal tables and instruments for dissection and for making sandwiches. Hungry again.

  Just as I am completing my rotating observation using my brilliant and infallible deduction skills, I spot a dead body slumped in a chair at the back of the room, face down on a keyboard, with the half eaten sandwich in his hand.

  For the sake of modesty, and Constance’s too, please keep your perverted gazes up here. I know the primary thinking brain is dangling right now, but the secondary brain is in charge at the moment, so you better pay it some respect, or the dangler is gonna whip the shit out you. And yes, I am talking to you TjStorm, you are the worst of the lot. Otherwise, you would have written me in with a pair of tighty whities at least.

  So now I am on my feet, and expecting a swirl of vertigo, but I have found myself in perfect balance.

  Asshole!

  Either the computer that is generating the messages is faulty, or a sarcastic prick like me, but I am betting that the UN are still taking the piss.

  Ignoring the obviously condescending message, I start to slowly and cautiously make my way over to the dead attendant.

  Well, that confirms it, I am so going kill those fucking sarcastic twits!

  Suddenly, I swear I can feel the synergy of the two skills working together. Just a moment ago, when I was trying to walk quietly, I kept feeling like I was going to constantly tip over. Now, it feels like I can perfectly place my feet, and still keep my stance. Whahay! Maybe this time only, I will let the messages slide, and I will only bitch slap the UN instead of removing their slimy tentacle legs (No offence to all you slimes reading this. I respect you greatly. Go forth and devour. Bugger, I can feel the munchies coming on again).

  Slow and steady does it, don’t rush, just gentle place the pad of your foot on the floor, and gently ease the heel to the ground, then onto the next step. Pathetically, to cover just 12 feet to my target takes me near three minutes. One hundred and eighty three seconds. Maybe if I can level these skills up, I can potentially go faster, and maybe unlock some other perks. That is how it works on the games I play, the character gets a skill, a percentage progression then a level up, with milestones unlocking another attribute to the skill. Now I just have to figure of how to get the stealth skill, and I can open a business called Ninja’s Are Us. Money, money, money, mo money. Just barely can I restrain myself to doing a celebratory dance.

  As I crouch before the morgue attendant, who incidentally has a name tag reading ‘Meredith’. And I thought my parents sucked so hard, his must have truly done a number on him. Eh, he probably does drag. Or maybe he so fucked up, and that explains why my arse is still sore. Mother Fucker! No, chill dude, it’s probably due to laying on a cold, hard metal table for an indeterminate amount of time.

  Just in case, I have decided to get some revenge either way, and Meredith is just the unlucky bastard, who is conveniently the only person in the room. Gently, I angle my mouth to his ear, and suddenly feel a strong erotic urge to lick his earlobe. But I resist. Barely. Okay, I may have given it a gentle nibble. I was planning to whisper into his ear “Meredith, wake up, daddy is hungry”. Meredith instead, and for a way better effect than I had intended, sleepily made a small grin form with his lips, lifted his head, squinted his eyes, bloody copycat, and murmured, “Hey Honey”.

  With the utmost precision in timing, I scream into his barely conscious face “BRAINS!”.

  Next thing I know, I am back in the white room, with the omnipresent light with no source, with another one those pop-ups in front and centre of my vision, reading:

  Well, Damn Son!