A monster? Me?! No, no, no. I'm an angel, a fix, a...... solution. Yeah, a solution.

I'm doing what nobody else will.

The cold steel tearing through the cop's flesh, lodging firmly in his spine left him paralyzed. I yanked his life from him, and refused him his last words. I stood there panting and moaning like an out of shape shmuck after a marathon.... like a badly beaten dog. But I was happy as ever. Homeward bound. He was all over the news the next day... the dead pig I mean. All the trivial mushy shit about how close he was to retirement... his pregnant wife... makes me sick. Like a cat would feel moments after lapping timidly from a puddle of inviting anti-freeze. Off to work.

There was a crash. I was the only one on scene. I walked up to the horid twisted mess. Man and machine were indistinguishable. The man was crying. He was trying to tell me something. His... baby. He said it's in the back seat. I looked into the back to see a heaping mess... hunched over like a bag of sand covered in grit and glass. My eyes returned the the driver.... the father. There were empty bear cans on the floor. "Bang" I thought. Hahaha.... hehehe.... BANG!

The sliding back door was open. I snuck in... snuck... real quietly. I made my way past the photos of family and friends on the wall. Past a doggy bed. I'm in the closet. I hear her. Up she comes... Haha... right on up. "I love you" she said. She was on her phone. I sneered at her through the crack in the door. Sleep... go on... you're tired! Yes, she's asleep. I slowly open the heavy closet door. Tip toe up to the bed, like a kid playing hide and go seek. She stirs. She looks up, confused at first... but once I see the whites of her eyes against the darkness I know she understands. "It's over" she probably thought. No... haha... not over. CRACK. The heavy crowbow drops with all it's weight and connects with a funny thud or crack. Out comes the rope. Out comes the petrol. I picked the nicest tree I could find. A tall dreary cedar. She's awake now... and realizes her situation. I skip up to her with a bounce in my step. The stank of petrol fumes in the air... and into the pocket I go. She watches my hand like an abused wife follows her pissed husband's hand. A bic. A bic lighter.

Home again. I put the clothes through the wash a few times. The smell didn't fully come out. Back to sleep. Waiting fot next time.