Your Basic Murder Rape Suicide Story

We've all had a touch of the nerves on our first murder rape suicide… So please, let us consider some patience and kindness as we hear Brandon's story. 

First off, he was very sleepy. Brandon had not slept for two days. He had to go to court and make a quick sneak out of the restroom when Jolly, the court's bailiff, would not hold his pee pee… After having utilized the PP method to escape the handcuffs, Brandon realized that the legs would still work in an ugly jumpsuit that could be removed and sent to a trash can, and now he was simply a half-naked fugitive in Central Kentucky. It really is quite normal. 

Brandon was hungry. Even though he knew the rage was dusk-coffee, he should probably not dilute it with chicken. He knows that it is an absolute cliche to be from Kentucky, half-naked, a fugitive from the prison system, and trying to go to his necessary appointment of murder rape suicide with some punctuality. Yet, he still fully desired the chicken of his youth. 

Brandon actually forgot his wallet when he went to prison. Then after dumping his prison uniform, he came across Marathon Fine Chicken… He was remotely tempted, but it's not good to have a high carbonic meal right before the rape suicide murder. A person must stay agile and ready at all times to do whatever is required to complete their task. In this case, Brandon had no money in his current clothing of undergarments, which would be a 'tighty-whitey' 1985 sort of situation with the smallest amount of staining. Brandon tried, yet it wasn't the type of underwear you'd want to be wearing in death or in the middle of raping. Perhaps this is the reason some men have to do the rape because their undergarments are so embarrassing.

Brandon needed protein. Protein is not particular to the male animal who is murderous, but I tell you that all people should have some protein before committing a serious crime. For example, if you don't know the weight of certain bodies you have to lift and drag into vehicles to bring out to a field – HOPEFULLY -- you can roll the dead body in some kind of sugary material so that vultures and ants and all of nature get rid of the evidence. Before you feed nature, you must feed thyself. Yes, it's all about taking care of yourself and having a little self attention before you do the murder. Before you do the rape. Before you decide that you have to do the suicide. 

Obviously, if you complete the ritual, you don't actually have to drag a body out to the woods unless you're trying to salvage your good name. That's quite difficult. Brandon did not come from rich people who would be completely necessitated to perform the suicide. He could just do the rape and murder. These things happen, and sometimes you get caught by making mistakes. Then you find a little Jesus and try not to repeat so many mistakes.

Chicken and underwear.

It really comes down to vocational training in the prisons if you consider it. A man full of rage, angst, and sexual energy might go back to his old ways of raping and murdering. Full consideration of the suicide caps it off. In this case, Brandon was a bit upset that his last victim dared to bear witness, causing him to go to the state chamber of quarantine. That is to say the nature of the cage for a human is to keep them separated from other people so that they do not get tempted to do the rape and murder. Again. suicide is optional. 

In Brandon's case, he decided that he would not get any protein. Brandon realized he could not get wonderful lovely Kentucky chicken as his last meal. No. 

Please forgive Brandon that he's a bit nervous or inexperienced because he has not actually completed his first rape but wishes to graduate right on to rape and murder. It's like sending a kid to kindergarten, changing your mind, and throwing them in the 8th grade. Bad things will happen, no matter how big a little brain is. He's probably going to fail at the rape and murder. 

So Brando had some wonderful energy when he realized that his expected target is about seven miles away. People only walk about three miles an hour. He had to consider if he wanted to branch out into certain robberies of altering vehicle controllers or maybe a horse. Modern cars are much more difficult to commandeer unless you know all the little gizmos that help these modern cars start. There are a thousand different availability options these days. If a person does not remotely know the model of a car, they probably shouldn't steal something simpler. 

Back to transportation. It might not be smart to arrive at your victim's house with a stolen car, even though you basically know the house. You visited at least three or four times before you decided upon the previous aggravated assault. In this case, young Brandon has decided that he would like the Eastern Forest entry to the property that has chosen the girl which is required for the rape and murder. After all, He can't rape and murder himself. Brandon thinks that the forest will mask certain footprints, and he can be slower in the activity instead of just charging up with the car.

Brandon is seeking a mode of moving from one place to the next without drawing the attention of the police to the address. That would be a bad thing. In this part of the United States, it's best to steal someone's riding lawnmower. It might have the keys in the ignition, and it could be found on the side of the house. You still have to gently push it into the street while the gearing is in neutral. How far does a person push a disabled riding lawn mower before he starts the engine, so the owner can't hear the sound of their engine being started by others? Brandon figured he had enough energy to push the riding lawn mower nearly 200 ft away from the owner's house, and still have enough left over for the eventual rape and murder with the optional suicide. 

Brandon was still shirtless. Essentially, he was still in full consideration of what to do for pants during the murder. Obviously, he would not need these objects during the rape, but it seems that a true murder should involve pants. Otherwise, a person is not very serious. If you asked this man why you have to perform the murder if he's already performed the rape, he would probably tell you that he wanted no one else to be able to rape her. The man is a simpleton like that. He believes the only sanctimony of one man one woman equals the purity of rape. It's just that simple. To get a better understanding, we shall have to get a sociologist to unpack the male mind. Since Brandon is in a hurry, we don't have a college-level sociologist, and we will just have to speculate on the actual reasons a man needs to murder after the rape. 

*

Darah had just learned to love again, and then this suitor calls after the first date and perhaps asks if she will vouch to the police authorities about his potentiality to be a good person. 

“You got arrested?”

“Not quite arrested. They're saying the word _detained._”

“What did you do, Reginald?”

Reginald looked for the words to describe that he was not accustomed to the local customs. He had perhaps, Yes, definitely stepped across the street in what is called jaywalking. Now this is a decriminalized crime in the great and disgusting nation of California, but completely difficult to talk your way out of in Central Kentucky. 

“I was walking without a license.”

“Was there anything else to it?”

Now besides the completely legal item of jaywalking in the head of Reginald, he realized that he was visiting one of the last bastions of gun pleasures in the country. He also realized that he should acquire at least a 22 to 45-caliber souvenir. In fact he did not think that people would believe him in California if he said he went gambling, smoking, drinking, and playing with his gun at the same time, anywhere. 

Now Darah was a very open-minded lass. She thought she could handle the occasional larceny or perhaps a tattoo gone wrong. These were not deal breakers. These were not even the things that you ever really judge a man about. This was just part of the growing cycle, and she would understand. 

As to the “growing cycle,” Darah had promised her mother a little thing. Her father had died in the shop inhaling too much acetylene during a welding adventure to fabricate a modern chastity belt. Now even in the Bible belt, any version of a modern chastity is quite difficult to acquire. You could easily go to a restaurant and order skin rabbits or secondhand possums, but in regards to the belt of holy chastity, it was not possible to protect your own daughter. 

Therefore, Darah’s mother had completed the necessary protection device by her own measure. She took a large boulder to her engagement ring and made 100 shards of diamonds, and then secured them to a kite string by use of a glue gun which was hot. The string was further attached to what fishermen call an elongated bobber… the purpose of which was intended to make sure Darah never coupled with a heathen. 

That is to say, er…

Cheese is often cut with a string... paper cuts are painful but if you add a little diamond dust you get a new sensation. And since this particular booby trap was actually “set” in the other trap, Mother had created an automated version for Dinah’s Lover. (Think: circumcision of the heart. Now replace the heart with another item) 

So Darah, being a wonderful believer in “faith without works is dead” decided that she would attempt her own brand of missionary work utilizing the tools that she had been provided. Reginald was an excellent candidate. Excellent.

The phone rang again, and so Reginald would have to wait. 

“Yes hello. This is Officer Cunningham from Christian County Prison... we just wanted you to know that Brandon has escaped. Thank you. Have a nice day. “

Oh no. 

This is very bad. Darah had forgotten to dust the house, and a former lover was returning, because he was so in love that he made mistakes. Also, Darah could not explain why their brief exchanges had begun to sharpen the man's anger response mechanisms… He really went too far with the entire chaining of a person and leaving them for eight hours in a shrubbery.

Bad form. 

Perhaps it would have been less problematic if Brandon had been considerate to leave some Lipton's iced tea with sugar, “Yes please, a little straw,” because a girl can't quite lift a jug of tea while she's all tied up with a dog chain. The guy didn't even have the good manners to go to Home Depot and get her a fresh dog chain. She could help him work on that. Instead, the neighbor’s dog must have felt lonely and sad and unwanted. 

She wasn't considering reaching for a higher level. I mean Reginald at least used to have a job. That was a start; some career to build higher and greater.

Now that it was nearly 9:00 p.m., Darah would have to reschedule her evening to prepare for multiple guests. 

**

Just after the witching hour, Brandon stepped on his second twig of chiggers and decided he wasn't concerned anymore about the quiet. He was about to decidedly start salivating and use the sharpened piece of basalt, which was initially stuck in the mower's rotor belt. Oh yeah, he was more Rambo than Stalone. More savage than Huxley’s John. Able to pretend he was going full native, he could be inducted into the Bureau of Indian Affairs. 

And then… he hears the angelic voice of his trophy (murder/rape/potential suicide inspiration). She was strong on six beautiful notes, a guitar version of Clinton’s inauguration song: “Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow” and Darah was hitting the high notes like Stevie Nicks before rehab. The highest notes were raspy with sinus pressures.

He nearly dropped his sharpened rock right there. Stunning. Warmth entered the man’s heart, and he was so debased by the singular beauty of the sound, that he nearly wanted to cry and run around the East forest of her rural property, maybe pick the last colored flowers of summer or the first green tomatoes of fall. 

He sniveled. 

The novice rapist should bring flowers. Maybe a little tequila and triple sec with a cold glass for a lady. How could he be so silly? This woman was Southern hospitality with Taylor lips, happy eyebrow arches, breasts that welcomed beer mugs, and hips that could knock over mountains. She was an artist to be praised and sipped, suckered and stewared. How could he ever think of chopping such tender flesh into little vitals? The first Michelin taco kept the steak whole and added the least amount of spices to retain the purity of the meal. 

Then he saw a sign. A very important testament. A very proud and personable message to the community, which read: LET’S GO BRANDON.!

He felt so loved. 

There was a trail of meatloaf balls that led to the garage and a perfectly good Weber BBQ to furnace bodies. There were charcoal briquettes from Kingsford which were far less easy to start than the occasional knit sweater. Brassieres leave metal which has to be retrieved in the ashes. 

Brando gobbled up the balls of pounded beef parts, rolled in lightly toasted garlic, some … Pinesol? Yes, that was just the right amount of salt and parsley and… his teeth were decaying too fast. Brandon reached down to suck another, paying no attention to the copperhead snake because Darah used to have a cat. You can't really fear venomous asps or mambas if you have a cat. Felines are so playful. 

Brandon could see the Catholic candles, the virgin saint of Krakow Poland, the local red bricks were spackled with love and caresses, the door to the kitchen opened without shock and the kettle over the stove did not steam out any acid.

Brandon was home. Home to murder or rape, definitely one at a time, and then to consider the truth of suicide. He was so ready, but her glistening voice was tearing into the rage he once harbored inside. He wanted to hold and cuddle his victim before he started the dark task. Maybe dental floss could possibly cut a neck. Death by toothpaste? Wrap a body in shower curtains? The kitchen was right in front of him with so many Mason jars that he might have seen Steven King’s heart of a little boy. 

Brandon took a deep inhalation and opened the refrigerator. His father taught him always to rape with a long neck, possibly Budweiser, because the actual act is not pretty unless you have a long neck, in case things don't work, you can _drink_ the beer and recycle it into the predefined receptacle. This is simply an allegory for men who do bad things but probably should have taken vitamins for blood flow. 

Gary Ridgeway always arrived with triangular rocks for the raping. Some say it was because he painted trucks at Kenworth all day. Jeffery Dahmer needed to wash his hands with Clorox before the meal and murder while Josef Mengele would not mangle without a red bow tie. Everyone has their way of setting the table. 

Brandon took off his muddy boots. He checked the kitchen table for mail as if his fantasy included a permanent address. As if he was horny or angry or amateur, but a man who could actually make his captive fall in love with her captor. He was just going to see if the letter opener might be sharpened when the door opened.

****

Reginald stared at the half-naked crazy bearded man and knew and understood he was in Kentucky. He had to travel gently because this murderous-looking caveman might be kind. The other man was possibly a relative? It was better to wait and hear grunting than to step forward and shake. 

******

Confused? Why would his love have brought another?

Brandon shook his body and beer, stuttering, “Did she invite you, too?”

##reedsyOctober

The beasts were sizing each other in the dim light when Darah came out in a flowing pink negligee, smoking a Gandalf pipe. She waited until they decided if it was fight or flight. Men like their night activities portrayed in private. Darah let their eyes follow her to the presentation couch. 

How the sofa was broken by years of waiting. 

Darah didn’t even wait, but spread out her legs and began reeling out the long tampon cord from her body, sparkling with diamonds and fleshy nuggets, bits of bone, and even a gelatinous portion of an eye; the salmon-looking chaff of a tongue. In fact, she pulled the chastity line out for so many yards that it looked unending. 

At last, she came to the end, with the guests stuck into potential neck injuries and clammed jaws. Darah gave a Shirley Temple giggle and used both arms to really joggle the last of the channel, to pop and pucker like an umbilical cord was closer to an anchor. 

::Pop::

Out came a wee little blank baby. A faceless child and clone cell need to bond. It was a lost pigeon person ready for the imprinting. 

Let us imprint. 

Darah cackled and held the child high and commanded: Who wants to hold the baby?