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Michael St. John

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Member Since: Jan, 2012

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Michael Myers' Knife, Pumpkin
By Michael St. John
Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Rated "R" by the Author.

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A college assignment - tell a story through the eyes of a famous inanimate object...



I call myself Pumpkin!  Actually, the kid came up with that, but what the Hell, I approved it.

Anyway, I was just remembering my first time, our first time…  virgin steel penetrating delicate flesh, tearing open…  crimson syrup - pulsing, burping forth…  the screams of one who has never had this happen to her before…                                                       All the coke in South America, not a match could be…

It was his sister, actually his older sister, but who knew at the time he had two?  She had just finished showing some little punk-ass high-school runt a good time.  We damn near ran into him as he left. Thought the little bastard was gonna end up being our first, would’ve been okay with me, the little shit.

Grandma had selected the clown costume, They had selected me.  He didn’t want to do it.  In those days his mind hadn’t yet been completely gouged out by Them, but They, the ones unseen, kept pushing, prodding, his little mind no match.

We made our way upstairs.  Damn things kept creaking.  Thought we were gonna get busted before we even made it to her room.  Thinking back on it, They had to have had a hand in saving our asses from more than quite a few close calls.  I remember the first time he died, I thought, now what the Hell am I gonna do?  Then minutes later he got up, like nothing had happened.  Yeah, They’re working some spooky voodoo shit behind the scenes for sure…

She was sitting in a chair combing her hair.  Now, in the movie they show her turning, covering her sweet little naked body and asking Michael what he’s doing in her room, all nice and innocent and stuff, just your average teen, yeah right.  I was there, obviously.  That ain’t the way it happened, that ain’t the way it happened at all. 

She stood right up and faced him, hand on hip, a bottle to her lips, defiant, cruel, slut.  She asked him if he’d been watching, if he’d liked it.  Sick bitch!  Can you imagine a sister asking that of a kid brother?  She had told the high school kid that night he was her first.  What a joke.  Nobody had been first with her since before she could remember.  The piece of garbage deserved this.

It was my turn to shine! 

The painted toenails - Didn’t matter

Runner’s calves - Didn’t matter

The long tan thighs - Didn’t matter

Lengthy raven hair partially covering the inviting chest, heavy and full, still stained with the scent of adolescent sex - Didn’t matter

The soft neck, exposed, vulnerable, unprepared – EVERYTHING!

They had taken over.  Faster than a boxer, dead on target, force of a stamping press…

Use me! - use me! - use me! - use me!

Flying bits of chunky gore defacing walls, ceiling, carpet…

Her panicked screams, gurgely and frothy…

She hit the ground like the dead weight she now was…  Last time I had felt that good I wound up in the juice-chair.  Imagine waking up from that and finding yourself in a kitchen drawer!  How fucked up is that?

But all that was ten years, and I forget how many other bodies ago, a couple of staff members of the hospital he was sentenced to, others.  They killed his parents, made him say something to them during a visit, freaked them out enough to drive the family wagon through a tree.  They want his whole family dead.  Sometimes I can hear Them chattering to him, something about an ancient family curse. 

Well, they found out about another sister, so they busted his ass (our asses – if I had one anymore) outa’ there.  Everybody’s wondering how he learned to drive the car he (we) jacked.  Idiots, how ya think he learned?  They taught him.

It’s different now.  Whatever was left of him in that grey shit in his head, it’s long since been yanked out.  They have complete control, of me too then.  No emotions, blank, void, just like the mask we found.  A statue with a knife, me, his buddy, his partner… his immediate supervisor…  Ha-ha-ha…     

I have no doubt we’ll get this other sister, just like we got the first.  Truth be known, I don’t give a damn who we kill.  I just wanna kill.  I like to kill.  It’s good to have a purpose.  It’s good to be back.        






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