My hands were shaking.
With such celerity, I dug my nails into the pits of this sick man’s eyes.
On a roll, I grabbed a knife and stabbed his throat.
It felt good to destroy; it felt right.
It felt good to gaze my eyes upon the glistening blood lying within and around his lacerated throat.
One less mongrel for this world to contain.
I did solve this man’s problem. I did “help him out.”
I did it very futilely, yet I did it. I killed him.
I took away every problem he ever had and ever could have had.
I am a man of my word.
I buried the body in the back yard.
I did it beneath the stars.
I looked up at the moon, and I realized the purpose of my life.
I would avenge Mother Nature, for she is my mother, and Satan is my father.
I stared at the face in the moon.

He said to me “Go forth and carry out your purpose.”

-Lola L. Right