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Kids think they have a monopoly on Mischief, but tonight Old Jerry may just be the king of Tricks and Treats!
Old Jerry by RT Raynaud
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Transcript:
Great. Another broken blade. Goddamn Sawzall. This Japanese piece of shit just isn\\u2019t built for hard work. Or is it Chinese? I dunno. It\\u2019s one of those Oriental countries.
I mean, if you\\u2019re using it in an air-conditioned, perfectly ventilated workshop a month after you bought it, and all you\\u2019re cutting is 5/8\\u201d plywood, it\\u2019ll work great. But, I swear, the moment you take it outside\\u2026 or it gets dirty\\u2026 or what you\\u2019re cutting is a little messy\\u2026 you spend more time on saw repair than you do actually sawing.
Hmmph\\u2026 maybe I\\u2019m being too hard on it? I\\u2019m pretty sure that bone isn\\u2019t something the saw was designed to cut. \\u2026 No, fuck that. This thing is designed to cut through aluminum. Bone shouldn\\u2019t be a problem. I should\\u2019ve just paid the little extra for an American made one.
Fucker, fine. There. New blade.
You happy, saw? Can we please finish this before sunrise? I still have a hole to dig.
Relax, Jerry. Breathe. Just a little bit more work and you\\u2019ll never have to see this kid\\u2019s smug little fucking face again. At least he\\u2019ll never egg your house again on Halloween. I bet this was the little shit who\\u2019s been doing it every year. Without fail, each November 1 is spent cleaning rotting egg off of my stucco. Or toilet paper out of my tree. Or a smashed pumpkin off of my porch. I have been vowing for years to catch the fuckface who kept doing it.
And I did, didn\\u2019t I, you little bastard? You thought that you could get away with it again this year, huh? You thought, \\u201cwell, I\\u2019m just going to pick on Old Jerry. Just minding his own business.\\u201d You didn\\u2019t count on the fact that I was watching this year. That I saw you in your little Devil costume throw that egg, with your friends Dracula, Zombie, and Skeleton cheering you on. That I would recognize your stupid little costume when you walked up to my door alone asking for candy.
Kind of a bonehead move when you think about it. Everyone knows that, when you\\u2019re \\u201cTrick-or-treat\\u201d-ing, you walk up to the door, knock, ask for candy, get candy, and go onto the next house. It\\u2019s called \\u201cTrick-Or-Treat\\u201d-ing\\u201d for a reason, you know. It\\u2019s in the disjunctive: you do one OR the other, not both. That would be \\u201cTrick-And-Treat\\u201d-ing, moron. Even if it wasn\\u2019t just plain illogical, if you\\u2019re going to do both, you should do the trick after you\\u2019ve already gotten the candy.
Duh.
And you\\u2019re NEVER supposed to go into the person\\u2019s house. Particularly when you don\\u2019t know them. Particularly if you\\u2019ve already egged the house because you\\u2019re a cocksucking, asshole kid with no sense of decency. Particularly when you\\u2019ve been fucking with Old Jerry for years already. You weren\\u2019t the sharpest crayon in the box, were you chief?
OHHHH! Shit! See? That\\u2019s exactly what I\\u2019m talking about. You\\u2019d think that a saw could cut through some viscera without getting all jammed up. But noooooo. Ugh. Blood\\u2019s all over the place now. Fuck\\u2026 it\\u2019s in my goddamn eye. Hold on, this shit stings. Even in death, you\\u2019re giving me crap. Alright.\\xa0 . I need a new saw. When this is all over, I\\u2019m gonna dump this fucker in the hole with you, bud.
You know, I honestly wasn\\u2019t expecting the \\u201cwelcome to my haunted house\\u201d line to work. Most kids probably would have politely declined; it was the obvious play. Admittedly, I hadn\\u2019t expected you to have the balls to actually walk up to my house. I didn\\u2019t have the time to think of a really creative way to lure you in. I was in the middle of cursing myself for my unpreparedness when you said \\u201cthanks, mister\\u201d and waltzed through my front door like you owned the fucking place.
You fell for my ruse hook, line, and sinker; complete with stupid smile across your chubby idiot face. I had such a hard time restraining my joy as I marched you through the house towards the kitchen.
I probably could\\u2019ve done without that snide comment you made about how my home looked \\u201cmore like a haunted crackhouse\\u201d. Yeah, I get it. I live by myself and I wasn\\u2019t expecting guests. It\\u2019s as clean as I mind it, but it probably couldn\\u2019t hurt to dust and mop more regularly. Now that I\\u2019m reflecting on it, the condition of my house probably helped sell the half-baked scheme in the first place.
But, who the fuck are you anyway? You\\u2019re just some idiot kid. What the hell do you know about interior decoration? You probably have a fucking video game poster on the wall in your room. Ugh\\u2026 classless fucking asshole.
And the comment about the insects on the dishes in the kitchen sink? Apparently, you\\u2019re too good to eat bugs. I mean, it\\u2019s food that walks right up to you! You\\u2019ll eat whatever the hell \\u201cnougat\\u201d is; but if it has a thorax, all of a sudden, it\\u2019s too gross for you. Bourgeois bitch. I swear some people have no vision.
But, you know what I regret? I regret not having a video camera set up to capture your face when you turned to me and said, \\u201cthis is a pretty lame haunted house\\u201d. You were expecting to see me disappointed at the bad review. I could see it in your eyes; in your shit-eating grin. You wanted to ruin my night; to inflict psychic torment on who you thought was a poor earnest haunted house proprietor with your \\u201cdissatisfied customer\\u201d routine.
I mean, I know it was just a ploy to get you in the house, but I was offering you a FREE haunted house tour. Gratis. As far as you knew, it would cost you nothing. Despite this, nothing would have given you more pleasure than to see Old Jerry\\u2019s feelings hurt. It\\u2019s just sadistic when you think about it.
You relished the opportunity to be an asshole\\u2026 right up until the moment I cracked you in the forehead with the hammer you never noticed me holding.
If we\\u2019re being entirely honest, I hit you too hard. I wanted you to know what was happening before I turned your lights out. I wasn\\u2019t going for a \\u201cscream of terror\\u201d or anything like that, but, if I had my druthers, a \\u201cno, please stop\\u201d would have been nice to hear you say before the end. To be fair, blunt force head trauma is more of an art than a science. And, it\\u2019s not like I do this very often. To kids your age anyway.
As was, you dropped limp without a sound. But, oooooh, boy, it was still pretty sweet. I\\u2019m getting chills thinking about it again.
I knew I had to hit you again to make sure the deed was done, if only to make sure you couldn\\u2019t surprise me and get away when I turned my back. I\\u2019ve been down this road too many times to know that one should never underestimate the resiliency of the human body. Afterwards, I dragged you over to the basement door and pushed you down the stairs. There was no way for you to somehow magically escape from down there. I suppose I may have been being too cautious, but these are the kinds of lessons experience teaches you, I suppose. That\\u2019s the difference between Old Jerry and \\u201cother people\\u201d; I like redundancies. But, my worries were needless. You landed at the bottom with a dull flop, eyes open and dilated. You were clearly dead, your blood droplets spattered all over my basement stairwell.
Oh\\u2026 remind me later to get to the pharmacy to pick up some hydrogen peroxide to clean all of this up.
Then came step two of my plan: cut you up into little pieces so that I could properly dispose of you. I mean, of course, I kept the tastiest parts of you for dinner this week, but my refrigerator is only so large. Eventually, the rest of you\\u2019d start stinking. Eventually, the smell would draw notice. Best just to dump you in a shallow grave and be done with you.
I had just been hoping that the disposal part of this process hadn\\u2019t been so taxing. If only this saw would cooperate. I mean, look at me; I\\u2019m covered in your blood. Old Jerry looks like he\\u2019s been\\u2026 well, like he\\u2019s been in a basement cutting up a body all night. HA!
No? Well, I thought it was funny. Being splattered with your blood does make for a pretty convincing Halloween costume at least.
When all\\u2019s said and done, kiddo, you\\u2019re actually pretty easy to talk to. Don\\u2019t get me wrong, I still think you\\u2019re a prick. But, I haven\\u2019t had this much human interaction in months. Ever since the psychologist lady told me to stop coming by. Man, now THAT is a story. You see, the court ordered me to see a shrink a couple times a week. But, one week she forgot to give me my prescription. I ran out over the weekend, but her office didn\\u2019t open until Monday. So, I did some researching to find where she lived and went to her house\\u2026
SHHHHHHH!
Do you hear something?
.
.
.
I think I just heard a knock on the front door. Hold on. Lemme go see.
.
.
.
Hey, wouldn\\u2019t you know, your friends Dracula, Zombie, and Skeleton are here. They look a little worried. Perhaps here to check up on you? Ah. Now I see why you were so bold in coming up to my house: this was all just some bit. You must\\u2019ve thought your friends had your back if anything went wrong. Maybe you should\\u2019ve stuck with the plan and only asked for candy. Who\\u2019s the joke on now, bitch?
They sure did take their time in coming to your rescue, didn\\u2019t they? No doubt the product of an extended debate as to whether to go tell someone and risk getting in trouble for tonight\\u2019s hijinks.
I really have to question your friends\\u2019 wisdom in approaching the same house you didn\\u2019t come out of. You really picked some idiot friends. Seriously, what the hell are they teaching you kids about the mechanics of \\u201cTrick-or-Treat\\u201d-ing these days? Like I said, go up to house, get'