MicroHorror

“I don’t know what’s up,” said George, “but I just don’t feel the rush anymore that used to come with ending someone’s life.”

“Well,” taunted Harvey, “you could try killing something less helpless than a small rodent.”

“Fuck you,” responded George. “Little kids are just fine. They’re so pure and innocent and naïve; they invariably cry out in agony! What could be more fun than that? Besides, why go after something that could resist, escape and either kill me or call the cops?”

“Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the fun in the way you do things? Where’s the thrill of the hunt? Where’s the challenge? Where’s the sense of accomplishment?”

“It’s not about challenge or a sense of accomplishment. It’s about relieving stress. It’s about having power over another human being. It’s about the helpless screams of the victims, and the blood that splatters everywhere. It’s about getting revenge on humanity for fucking up my life by taking one of theirs. Why make it hard on yourself?”

“Well,” said Harvey, “for one thing, as fun as it is to see a child in agony, it’s much more fun to see an adult in such conditions. When you kill someone of equal size and strength, there’s your power rush. Also, it’s more like a game for me. Killing is just the cherry on the sundae. The real pleasure comes from stalking, hunting, terrorizing my prey.”

A long, deafening silence filled the air in the dimly lit room.

After several minutes, Harvey broke the silence with a question. “Hey, where’s Johnny anyway?”

“He’s still dealing with his walls. He thinks he almost has enough blood to make the yelling stop.”

“Hm… I wonder what’ll happen when he does make it stop,” posed George.

“I don’t know. But if he stops killing, we should kill him and fuck his body.”

“That sounds nice. I’ve been really depressed lately. Maybe that’ll cheer me up.”