What the hell is he wearing? Are his thumbs really popping through self made holes in the cuffs of his sweatshirt? He looks so dirty. Those fingernails are a quarter inch too long. They’re going to start curling back soon. Jesus. The least he could do is scrape the gunk out from underneath. He must be a smoker because those bad boys are creamy, and not the good kind of creamy. Perhaps he had a sadistic breakdown and went to town on his mitts with a pair of pliers. That would explain the cracking and random white streaks.
Who wears their hair like that? It’s so greasy and stringy. He might as well duct tape some wet angel hair pasta to his tiny little dome and let that flop around in the wind. Always sitting by himself: observing, coughing, and seemingly never blinking. No one really knows his story. What the hell a guy like that is doing in the commissary of a prosperous law firm is simply beyond human reason. He never leaves. Not once, do you see him opening or closing any of the entrance doors. It could be that he slips in and out the back but that’s doubtful. He’s not that inconspicuous. Where does he get the money to buy lunch everyday? He could be a janitor but where’s his broom or his bucket or his gingivitis infested teeth? The man has an immaculate set of chompers. That’s the only clean or presentable thing about him. Good work, Remo. At least there’s one thing about you that draws attention away from your careless grime.
What’s with the snakeskin boots? Cowboy kicks are stylish and acceptable but not if they have a whitewashed pair of tapered jeans stuffed into them. One of the more interesting things about this cat, though there are many, is that he carries a little orange umbrella around. He hangs it off the back of his jeans even when there’s not the remotest chance of rain. Maybe it’s full of poisonous gas like the Penguin from Batman and he’s masterminding some devious plan to kill us all while we enjoy our lunch. That would certainly explain a lot.
Is he done eating already? That’s one minute and thirty-nine seconds earlier than his annual average from the past five years. He’s moving quickly now and keeping his arms tight against his abdomen as he usually does. Come on, Remo. Do something else out of routine. Someone just called out his name. No response—typical. And like that, he’s gone into his hidden world of mystery. You’re a weird fella, Remo—a weird fella.
Showing posts with label mystery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mystery. Show all posts
12.21.2007
12.08.2007
Mammoth Christmas Party 1956: From Left to Right (Part 7)
THE SCIENTIST
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The couple on the right is the most mysterious. Their backgrounds, their minds -- all is off limits to a certain extent. Everyone else at the table thinks they know this couple but rest assured, they don't. They are a power couple but they don't flaunt it. Instead, they just do and leave it at that. No need to talk, no need to gloat, and definitely no need to make themselves spectacles. The man on the outside, who refuses to fully expose his face, is the ringleader. He does not want his face in this picture. The only reason he looks at the camera, partially showing himself, is to not draw too much attention. If he were completely missing, that would be a little too suspicious. He has much too much on his mind to focus completely on the camera.
This party is the fruition of his plan and his wishes. He has a very unique relationship with each individual. The Soldier and he served in the war together; only he was the lieutenant rather than just a private. Although the Soldier has no idea, this man witnessed many of the secrets and ritual killings that took place overseas. The lieutenant had observed from afar but never been noticed and never brought it up. They remain friends but the lieutenant is utterly disgusted with the private that served under him -- completely disgusted.
He was a close friend of the Socialite's parents. The mother had confided in him many a time that she suspected something peculiar between her husband and her daughter. Naturally, he comforted her and reassured her that it was an absurd presumption. When he later heard about the murder, he knew that he had given false comfort. In his heart, he knows that the surviving young woman was the cause for two deaths and yet she acts as if nothing ever happened. She sees him as a sweet longtime family friend that has always offered support. His disgust runs deep for the socialite. He sees her as a human abomination.
The Satanist was a cute that he ran into outside one day while he was walking his Labrador. They became relatively good friends. He would invite her over for tea, cigarettes, and the occasional gin. It was a nonsexual relationship that involved mostly a good amount of talking about everything from popular culture to politics to what America has become in the last fifty years and where it will be in the next fifty. It was a beautifully healthy relationship until spirituality entered the picture. He made it well known that he believed in an all powerful creator, although he was unsure whether or not the ideas believed in the Judeo-Christian world were enough for him. The conversation took a turn when he mentioned that the idea of a fallen angel trying to fight against God was a preposterous notion. "It would be like a house cat trying to fight a good sized dog," he said. The Satanist forced a smile but that was the last time she came over. Two weeks later, the man's Labrador disappeared from the front porch area of his house. However, there was a black house cat tied to the dog's leash. He knew exactly what had happened but he never brought it up in the sporadic subsequent conversations that took place later on. She would always smile and he would smile back. Deep in his heart, he knew what she was and she disgusted him.
His relationship with the Sophisticate was an interesting one to say the least. They had known each other in the early years of the Sophisticate's horse racket. Offering his connections and vast leads, he helped his friend’s business flourish. They were stellar partners. After that run ended and the Sophisticate was hanging by a thin thread, the man offered him a job. He kindly thanked him but refused the offer because of his pride. So instead, the man gave him some money, which did not need to be paid back, in order to reestablish himself. Later, the man heard that the Sophisticate was back on his feet with a new late night business. This brought a smile to his face. He was happy to have helped someone in need and eager to see what his money had been put toward. As soon as the man walked into the Sophisticate's new office, he left -- disgusted.
For a number of years, he had a relationship with the Saint because she often was his teller at the bank. He liked her as a person. She was cordial, personable, and had a good spirit. Many a time she would talk to him about Christianity but never in a pushy way -- he liked that. He never swayed toward her beliefs but he respected them because he so highly respected her. When he found out that she had married the Sophisticate, he also found out that her sister-in-law was the Satanist. He could not believe that someone so sweet could be so naive. How could she be involved with such a disgusting pair? From then on, he ceased going to her at the bank. Her ignorance disgusted him.
This is a man who loves his wife. She is the only one who truly knows him. Everyone else thinks him to be a businessman, or a retired military man, or just an intellectual. But in actuality, he is a devoted scientist who refuses to expose his talent and livelihood to anyone -- except for his wife. After all, she is his creation. After his encounters with all of these people at the table, he lost his faith in humanity and decided that only an artificial being could satisfy him. Really though, he created her as a tool -- a tool to destroy the ones who had so jaded his perception. For years, he has been planning this event. This is the third and final Christmas party that all of these individuals will attend together. They're comfortable and unsuspecting. The time is perfect. After this picture is taken, the rest of the guests leave, and it is just their table left drinking some late night beverages mixed with a powerful sedative, he will murder every last one of them.
He knows that his wife plans to murder him after the others are gone. She doesn't know he knows but that's because she is only a machine. That is why he will force her to kill herself in front of the others so that those scarred by suicides will rekindle their horror. Then he will systematically kill the rest, starting with the Satanist -- the piece of filth that stole his dog. That way, everyone will die having been a witness to, or at least affected by, a suicide and a murder. Next will be the Socialite. She will be spinning after seeing another woman murdered. It will conjure up memories of his parents. Her death will hurt the Soldier. Then the man will tell him that he knows his secrets and witnessed his ritual killings. Then he will slice the Soldier’s throat. The last two left will be the Sophisticate and the Saint. The man will kill the Sophisticate and speak to the Saint as she cries. He will explain that these were all terrible people and that she should have known better. And right when she thinks that God will save her because she is the only good one there, the man will tell her that she will not want to go on living with these kinds of images burned into her memory. Then he will kill her.
At that point, he will use his knowledge of science to dispose of the bodies and completely clean the scene of any evidence. After that, he will take a small dose of cyanide and take a nap in a large incinerator because he will not be able to live with himself. He will know that what he did was just but his mind will never be the same and no achievement will ever live up to the complexity and precision of this particular plan. In the end, it will simply seem as if none of them ever existed. The earth will be rid of seven corrupt individuals and the abuse of life will be replaced by necessary death. And no one will remember the Mammoth Christmas Party of 1956.
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The couple on the right is the most mysterious. Their backgrounds, their minds -- all is off limits to a certain extent. Everyone else at the table thinks they know this couple but rest assured, they don't. They are a power couple but they don't flaunt it. Instead, they just do and leave it at that. No need to talk, no need to gloat, and definitely no need to make themselves spectacles. The man on the outside, who refuses to fully expose his face, is the ringleader. He does not want his face in this picture. The only reason he looks at the camera, partially showing himself, is to not draw too much attention. If he were completely missing, that would be a little too suspicious. He has much too much on his mind to focus completely on the camera.
This party is the fruition of his plan and his wishes. He has a very unique relationship with each individual. The Soldier and he served in the war together; only he was the lieutenant rather than just a private. Although the Soldier has no idea, this man witnessed many of the secrets and ritual killings that took place overseas. The lieutenant had observed from afar but never been noticed and never brought it up. They remain friends but the lieutenant is utterly disgusted with the private that served under him -- completely disgusted.
He was a close friend of the Socialite's parents. The mother had confided in him many a time that she suspected something peculiar between her husband and her daughter. Naturally, he comforted her and reassured her that it was an absurd presumption. When he later heard about the murder, he knew that he had given false comfort. In his heart, he knows that the surviving young woman was the cause for two deaths and yet she acts as if nothing ever happened. She sees him as a sweet longtime family friend that has always offered support. His disgust runs deep for the socialite. He sees her as a human abomination.
The Satanist was a cute that he ran into outside one day while he was walking his Labrador. They became relatively good friends. He would invite her over for tea, cigarettes, and the occasional gin. It was a nonsexual relationship that involved mostly a good amount of talking about everything from popular culture to politics to what America has become in the last fifty years and where it will be in the next fifty. It was a beautifully healthy relationship until spirituality entered the picture. He made it well known that he believed in an all powerful creator, although he was unsure whether or not the ideas believed in the Judeo-Christian world were enough for him. The conversation took a turn when he mentioned that the idea of a fallen angel trying to fight against God was a preposterous notion. "It would be like a house cat trying to fight a good sized dog," he said. The Satanist forced a smile but that was the last time she came over. Two weeks later, the man's Labrador disappeared from the front porch area of his house. However, there was a black house cat tied to the dog's leash. He knew exactly what had happened but he never brought it up in the sporadic subsequent conversations that took place later on. She would always smile and he would smile back. Deep in his heart, he knew what she was and she disgusted him.
His relationship with the Sophisticate was an interesting one to say the least. They had known each other in the early years of the Sophisticate's horse racket. Offering his connections and vast leads, he helped his friend’s business flourish. They were stellar partners. After that run ended and the Sophisticate was hanging by a thin thread, the man offered him a job. He kindly thanked him but refused the offer because of his pride. So instead, the man gave him some money, which did not need to be paid back, in order to reestablish himself. Later, the man heard that the Sophisticate was back on his feet with a new late night business. This brought a smile to his face. He was happy to have helped someone in need and eager to see what his money had been put toward. As soon as the man walked into the Sophisticate's new office, he left -- disgusted.
For a number of years, he had a relationship with the Saint because she often was his teller at the bank. He liked her as a person. She was cordial, personable, and had a good spirit. Many a time she would talk to him about Christianity but never in a pushy way -- he liked that. He never swayed toward her beliefs but he respected them because he so highly respected her. When he found out that she had married the Sophisticate, he also found out that her sister-in-law was the Satanist. He could not believe that someone so sweet could be so naive. How could she be involved with such a disgusting pair? From then on, he ceased going to her at the bank. Her ignorance disgusted him.
This is a man who loves his wife. She is the only one who truly knows him. Everyone else thinks him to be a businessman, or a retired military man, or just an intellectual. But in actuality, he is a devoted scientist who refuses to expose his talent and livelihood to anyone -- except for his wife. After all, she is his creation. After his encounters with all of these people at the table, he lost his faith in humanity and decided that only an artificial being could satisfy him. Really though, he created her as a tool -- a tool to destroy the ones who had so jaded his perception. For years, he has been planning this event. This is the third and final Christmas party that all of these individuals will attend together. They're comfortable and unsuspecting. The time is perfect. After this picture is taken, the rest of the guests leave, and it is just their table left drinking some late night beverages mixed with a powerful sedative, he will murder every last one of them.
He knows that his wife plans to murder him after the others are gone. She doesn't know he knows but that's because she is only a machine. That is why he will force her to kill herself in front of the others so that those scarred by suicides will rekindle their horror. Then he will systematically kill the rest, starting with the Satanist -- the piece of filth that stole his dog. That way, everyone will die having been a witness to, or at least affected by, a suicide and a murder. Next will be the Socialite. She will be spinning after seeing another woman murdered. It will conjure up memories of his parents. Her death will hurt the Soldier. Then the man will tell him that he knows his secrets and witnessed his ritual killings. Then he will slice the Soldier’s throat. The last two left will be the Sophisticate and the Saint. The man will kill the Sophisticate and speak to the Saint as she cries. He will explain that these were all terrible people and that she should have known better. And right when she thinks that God will save her because she is the only good one there, the man will tell her that she will not want to go on living with these kinds of images burned into her memory. Then he will kill her.
At that point, he will use his knowledge of science to dispose of the bodies and completely clean the scene of any evidence. After that, he will take a small dose of cyanide and take a nap in a large incinerator because he will not be able to live with himself. He will know that what he did was just but his mind will never be the same and no achievement will ever live up to the complexity and precision of this particular plan. In the end, it will simply seem as if none of them ever existed. The earth will be rid of seven corrupt individuals and the abuse of life will be replaced by necessary death. And no one will remember the Mammoth Christmas Party of 1956.
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