The words. If I could kill someone and get away with it, I would.
But that is low-brow.
I am going to punish you.
Every once in a while I go for a walk and look up at the sky.
The river. Underneath a bridge. Everybody likes water.
I imagine shoving your face below the water table during an experiment of oxygen exchange.
"That is not good," Kim said. I don't know what we were talking about as we walked over the bridge.
People are obstacles, to me. I see a good-looking woman and I want to fuck her - stimulus, response. I see people with no communication skills who are are ugly and brown and in my mind's eye they are nothing but brown skinned trash because they do not assimilate to the United States of America.
I like metal and glass and I like looking down at the river and pretend to listen as she orders a salad and I am too annoyed by everything to place an order.
"Is it okay if we sit at the bar?" - she asks.
"Sure," I respond without quotes because now you are here.
I hang on every word because it all sounds good. All of the 'pop, pop, pop,' from a Red state is good with me. I like guns. I like talking about politics, I like discussing how we are going to solve the problems of the world over a seltzer water with a lime.
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Chapter 2
I do nothing. I say nothing. The next thing I know we are alone and she is on me.
Not the same girls from the previous chapter.
I am on top of her, fucking her, and she tells me to punch her in the face.
She says it 'gets her off' - and I can smell a lawsuit from a mile away; so I wrap her face in duct tape and her body as well and drag her down to my garage and throw her into the bed of my truck and drive out to the desert.
Nobody can hear her screams. And she is probably rolling around back there when I make the turns on the road dictated by 'the man'.
I am looking at the beautiful mountains as I drive.
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Chapter 3
I love driving. It is not about the destination, but the journey.
When you drive this road, the mountains come into focus.
I am a very good driver - operator of automobiles.
The BASS is pumping in the truck and the thing in the back wrapped in duct tape is why we are here.
I touch the 'left hand' turn signal and slow down and merge.
But before I do, I must say that that elevation on this road is nice, as a driver approaches the rocks; not red, but sun bathed in circumstance.
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Chapter 4
I arrived at the trail head. Beautiful mountains and trails with a woman in the bed of my truck who did not agree with me.
Life is a highway. But death is a trail of those who have no direction.
It is strange that I still do not hear the screams from the bed of the truck even when I turn down the music.
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Chapter 5
The Dust - Everything is worth the view of the mountains - this bitch. Some unknown patriots are shooting in the desert and there are some of the people who have a license to be there.
I am driving through the rough trails, and up the hills, but getting hard thinking about doing this.
You have to wave to the off road vehicle riders - OK.
Try to be normal? Is that really what I asking myself right now?
I go through the trails and arrive at my favorite spot:
I pull this load out of the bed of the truck and toss her over the bend.
She is crying now. I can hear her and nobody is around.
I walk down to where I threw her. I rip the tape off of her mouth.
She screams, surprise
I punch her in the face and she stops screaming.
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Chapter 6
It was sick, he took her out of the bed of the truck and dragged her down the slope and came on her face before her shot her in the face.
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Chapter 7
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