Author's note: This is not my usual style. Beware. But, you know, new inspiration from new books so I thought I would give it a go. You've been warned.
“I’ve told you before, I am NOT doing that!” Lev protested. “Who in their right mind would do such a thing?”
“Good thing I lost my right mind long ago.” I replied.
“You’ve asked me to do this before. Join you on one of your jolly jaunts, you ask, but NO, I will not join you. The answer is no.”
“I just don’t see what’s so wrong with it as long as you do it in the right way- which I do.”
“Which part do you not get? N? O? Do you want to hear it in French? Would that help? NON!” God, he was crazy sometimes. Couldn’t Lev just see that it was a good thing? Sometimes?
“Just hear me out. Okay?”
He stared at me.
His cogs were whirring.
Is it worth it?
“Okay... as long as you stop pestering me after this” He held his hand out,
I shook it,
“Thank you. This time I have a new method of persuading you. Instead of last time, when I didn’t think and just asked, I could understand why you rejected the offer outright. This time, though, it will be different. I have thought about it. I have written about it and I would like you to read about it. Or I could read it to you? Doesn’t matter?”
“Er… You can read it? I’m still in shock that you can think.”
I pulled out the paper. I flamboyantly flapped and flattened them. I cleared my throat,
“Why you should consider murder as a favourite hobby? By Dylan O’Neil.” I paused dramatically for effect. “When one says murder, one usually thinks ‘not good’ or something to a similar effect. One does not think of it as a useful cleaning process of people who are not wanted or good. This is why I, Dylan O’Neil, have decided to write this. I feel that murder is justified and can be used for a good cause- as long as it is done properly and in the right situation. I have compiled a list of 4 very, very, very,good reasons to support my thinking. Are. You. Ready?” I turn to look at Lev.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but what I got was gobsmacked Levi. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes slightly glazed. Who knew if that was a good thing but there weren't any protests. I plowed on.
“First and foremost, murder is useful. You know those people who walk free from jail? They should pay for the crimes they commit, yet they don’t. So, I stop them. Is that a good reason? I think it is. They pay for the suffering they inflicted. Do you think that’s fair? I think it is. You, Levi, are all about justice and you, Levi, should want to bring these people down. Why don’t you join me? No one will know and no one will care if someone who has murdered, hurt, or stolen from other people, with the exception of what little family they have left. I was surprised to find out that so many jailbirds have very little family- normally they’re dead, murdered-which is why I- we- will be different. We will be doing good killing these people. After all, soldiers kill innocent civilians or soldiers that have done nothing except follow orders, and they are not wanted- in fact they are respected. So if they get respect for killing good people, what would we get for killing bad people?”
“You are crazy.”
“Are you going to carry on?”
Well, he hadn’t walked off. I must have done well.
“Murder can be beautiful. As long as you do it in the right way, it can be beautiful. I remember the first time I did it. I hit their neck, hoping for one clean cut, only it didn’t happen the way I imagined it. It wasn’t clean. I hit the artery and blood went everywhere. A fountain of blood, right there in front of me, covering me, then slowly drip, drip, dripping off me. I loved it. But, I didn’t use that method again. I’m much more careful now. Slice, by slice. Limb, by limb. You can see your work and get instant joy from it. It really can be beautiful- though opinions may differ. You may discover that you like to slowly carve pieces of them. First an ear, then the mouth, then an eye, but I like to do it big. You know me; go big or go home. I do an arm then a leg. It’s beautiful.”
“Personally I much prefer the Mono Lisa to ‘The fountain of Blood. I am, after all, a perfectly normal person.”
“Mostly. You have that addiction to peg collecting.”
“Still, a better hobby than murder. I can write a speech about that if you want.” He winked.
“Lev. Don’t ever wink at me again. Now shut up.”
He winked, but then he shut up.
“Murder can relieve stress and calm you down. If you’ve had a long day at work, or you feel like someone’s out to get you and you’ve got all this pent up rage, what better way to let it out than with a knife and a person? Maybe even the person that was bugging you? Who knows? But, just think of the possibilities. Do you do it slow, relishing the cries of pain, letting your anger slowly deflate? Or do you end it quick, with just a slight throat, or stabbed chest, letting your anger go out with a bang? Does that person deserve it? Yes. Probably. As long as you do it right.”
“Well, what do you say? I’m starting to buy this?”
“No, not really, but carry on anyway.”
“Murder is revenge. There are and always will be people who deserve to die. And then burn in hell for all of eternity. We kill those. Only those. No one else. How do we know if they’ve killed? We research. I am always certain to check, double check, triple check. No one minds if a murderer goes missing.”
“Yes. That really is something.”
“I have someone in mind…”
I handed him the knife. He looked at me. Then he looked at the knife.
He was going to do it.
He was going to kill someone.
I didn’t realise what had happened until I saw a silver, glint of metal next to me.