Everyone has a talent. It might not seem that way, but it’s
true. Now, I didn’t say everyone has a talent that society has deemed useful or
valuable. But if you watch someone long enough, you’ll start to see things differently.
You’ll start to see things the way that I do.
The problem with people, most people at least, is that
they’re all so busy basking in the glow of the folks they’ve put on a pedestal
that they don’t realize things are much more interesting in the shadows.
If you don’t believe me, stop reading this for a moment and
turn on the television or the computer and check out what passes for news these
days. Whether it’s celebrity sightings, who’s expecting and who isn’t, who’s
getting married and who’s getting divorced, It’s all the same shit. Half the
time you don’t even need to know the name of the flavour of the minute. Why? Because
there’s always going to be another one. The media and their enabling whores
will keep right on pouring the ‘intimate’ details of our chosen gods and
goddesses down our throats like cheap wine, knowing all the while that once
we’ve reached our fill we’re just going to throw it all up and start over
again. Binge. Purge. Repeat. Halle-fucking-lujah! Can I get an amen?
That’s where you come in. You think that you’re nothing
special, but I know better. You’re very special indeed. How do I know? Well
now, you wouldn’t be reading this if you weren’t. A man like me doesn’t waste
his talent on just anyone. I won’t lie though, you’re not the first; not the
first at all. There have been so many others.
I suppose you deserve to know more. We have a bit of time.
Not much now, but enough. I’ll have to hurry though. They’re coming.
I always knew that I saw the world more honestly than the average
person, but it was a long time before I understood that seeing alone isn’t
enough. Sight is only half of the
equation. The beauty is in the doing.
It was a cool autumn night and the home team was doing well.
Where was home? Home was no different than a million other dirt poor, piss-ant little
towns scattered across this great nation of ours. You know the place. It’s
where the air smells of pig shit and ‘ladies’ with a black eye or two think
that riding a dick in the backseat of a Wendy’s parking lot is the same as
riding a horse off into the sunset. It’s where you told yourself you’d never go
back to if it killed you. Let’s just call it “Everytown” U.S.A. and be done
with it.
Like I was saying, the home team
was doing well that night. This was mostly due to the athletic prowess of their
champion quarterback, Chad Rodecker. At 6’3 and 220lbs, with a striking set of
blue eyes and perfect blonde hair to match, he cut the kind of figure that would’ve
made Uncle Adolph proud. On the field, he was the kind of guy that made the men
cheer and the women swoon. Off of it though? God he was a boring little fuck.
If he ever had an original thought in his life, it was by accident and quickly
forgotten.
Time is precious, but I have to make sure that you
understand. You have to see the way it really was; because this is a part of
the story that the media always gets wrong. Oh sure, they’ve wasted a
lifetime’s worth of energy and oxygen hyperventilating about their ‘facts’ and presenting
the ‘evidence’; but the truth is they’ve never bothered to do more than skim
the surface of a very deep pond. To hell with them and their simpleminded
assumptions.
Everyone else may have turned out for him, but I was there
for her. I dare not write her name. What we had was too precious, too singular.
I think it would be the end of me if I was to write her name. Besides, you’ve
read the papers. You already know. They all know.
I had spent weeks following her, learning her habits and
routines. By the time I made my intentions known I think I knew more about her
than anyone else. I certainly knew more about her than that pathetic excuse of
a boy she was running around with. The ladies just couldn’t get enough of Chad
and his magical prick, could they? Most of them were nothing more than fawning
little sluts. Not her though, she was different. While the others jumped up
squealing and shouting at the slightest provocation, her poise never faltered.
She was a queen surrounded by scullery maids and tavern wenches. He didn’t
deserve her.
I waited until after the game. I hope you’re not curious as
to the final score, because I couldn’t give less of a shit about trying to
recall what it was. Her car was parked in a poorly lit corner of the parking
lot under the cover of a tall oak tree. I’m not foolish enough to think that
this was a mistake. She knew I would be there. She needed me to be there. I
stepped out of the shadows and grabbed her from behind while she was pretending
to drop her keys. It didn’t take much to drag her into the undergrowth. After
all, she wanted to be caught.
I won’t bore you with the specifics. Besides, a gentleman
should never kiss and tell. Suffice it to say that I took from her everything
she was willing to give, and oh was she willing. The trashy tabloids have
provided more than their fair share of filthy accusations. They say that I
killed her, that I crushed her skull with my bare hands. It’s utter nonsense.
She gave herself to me. She’s a part of me now, one that I will carry with me
always. She was the first. That’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay.
There’s so much more to tell. But I’m afraid I’m running out
of time. If you’re reading this, know that the story isn’t over. It’s only just
beginning. You, Dear Reader, you’ll carry the torch for me. Won’t you? You have
to make sure that none of them are forgotten. That was my gift to them. In life
they would have all faded away into obscurity. I made them something more. Most
people think my talent is rage, but they’re wrong.
They’re almost here. I can hear the sirens. My eyes are
heavy now. I’m leaving on my own terms. Not theirs.
It wasn’t rage at all. It was love. It was love all along.
Don’t you see?
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