Saturday, May 08, 2004

A month ago: I will have my revenge. When you're old and weak and begging for breath after each coughing fit, I will stand there and watch you. I will watch you reach out and grab air. I will stand there and smile. Revenge is a dish best served cold and I can wait. The day will come when you listen to me subserviently and dare not voice your frustrations. On that day, I will slap you and watch you take it and I will be content.

You may cry, you may try to call your limbs that no longer work to take you away from me, but on that day, all else will fail you. Nobody will hear you as you cry out for mercy and even if they do, they will smile like I do.

So go ahead and do what you like while you still can. My day will come, and sooner than you think. Rest with the maggots.

Today: My own words fail me when I try to describe the extent of my hatred. Even that very word, hate, it sounds so weak to my ears. Like the poor man's version of what I am feeling right now. Cold, possibly-murderous rage may be closer, but just a bit. If every heathen gets one prayer answered, let this one me mine: kill. now. slowly.

Misha at Saturday, May 08, 2004

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