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October 11th, 2011

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For some reason, my cuts aren't working, so I'll just link to here!

This story is called Operation: Sociopaths Need Ice Cream too


If I could just take a laser beam and zap them from humanity, that would be orgasmic. I don’t like those little brats. I don’t like their tangled hair, their sticky hands, their unmatched clothes, their uneven toes their missing teeth, their rotten teeth, their big watchful eyes, or loose lips hanging free from slack jaws. I don’t like their salivating mouths that just beg for candy, beg for cavities... beg for more strawberry ice cream.

I sat on the park bench with my dog, General Pablo Hussein. He was a Siberian Husky, and thanks to his wild snapping jaw laced with gooey saliva, and undigested meat products, no child dared to come near him.

He was feisty though. Mostly because it was in his DNA, but also because it was hot as Operation: Hot Sauce that took place overseas three years ago in Sudan. That day everyone was naked in the tent, but no one could complain. It was 120 degrees there. Currently, it was 105 degrees.

Apparently, this kiddie-infested white-bred community had dubbed the day ‘Sahara Day’ even though none of them had ever been there before. I was sure the Sahara desert didn’t have tons of annoying runts lining up for the
delicious and savory plethora of strawberry ice cream being scooped today.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead as it dribbled down my face. I had caught the attention of one of the little bastard children with their icky sticky fingers and untied shoes.

If it had been thirty degrees warmer, I would be propping random sticks on the ground to wait and watch for them to trip. Some may say it’s cruel, but they certainly would think it was funny. At least for demented dudes like me.

The little kid trotted over. He was a short little square. He had uncombed brown hair and freckles all over him. He’d only be cute for a few more years. Even then, I still felt my stomach churn at the sight of him.

“Hey mister, what kind of dog is that?” he was smart enough to not reach out his hand to touch  Pablo’s black on white fur.

“It’s a dog that will rip out a new asshole, that’s for sure.”

The kid stood slack jawed for a few seconds and then he ran away crying. Probably to his mommy. Dammit. I couldn’t stand to be arrested for disturbing the peace again. I swear, every riot I come across, I’m always the one who gets arrested right after the minorities. Utter bullshit.

I reluctantly stood up and grabbed Pablo’s leash. The kid had only seen me for a few seconds, he couldn’t get a good enough description of me. I’d get off scott-free.

As I strolled among the park, the sight of the ice cream truck placed in the center of the park had me frozen in place. Maybe it was the easy-going jingle coming from the radio, or the jolly guy continuously handing out cones and dishes of ice cream, but I was locked in a trance as I walked over there. I was full of regrets as I got to the end of the line. I was surrounded by greedy children that would contribute nothing to society except meningitis outbreaks and nasty pre-chewed gum you’d find stuck underneath chairs and tables.

I grew quickly annoyed waiting in line for ice cream. I should be raiding this van for anything I want and still taking hostages with me, just for the ego-boost.

My conscious won and I finally said to the kid bouncing up and down in front of me, “you little bastard if you don’t move out my way, I’ll have my dog bite your testicles off!”

The little runt stopped, turned around, and said, “What are testicles?”

I think I was going to have an aneurysm. “Listen up little kiddies!” I yelled. They all stopped the inane chatter and looked at me.

“I am a Lieutenant in the army. I fight the terrorists for America! I fight them for excitement! Dammit I fight them for sexual pleasure! And I will be damned if I have to wait in line behind you little bastards! You just want this ice cream to crave your Ritalin fix because your mommies are too doped up on your stash! Well I’ll tell you something... I need this ice cream. I need it or I will die. Now move the Hell out of my way!”

They stood in awe. They finally recognized. Good.

“I said... move. The. Hell. Out. My. Way,” I repeated through clenched teeth.

The children backed up quickly. Some cried or pouted, but I didn’t care. I pushed my way through the line and handed the man a dollar bill.

I greeted him with a smile. “One strawberry ice cream please.”

His eyes glossed with concern. “Sir, are you okay? Are you insane?” I noted his tanned skin, his long prominent nose and greasy brown eyes. He could be Israeli. I have a problem with those people ever since Operation: Bible Study when they bombed our hot-dog stand. I was only fifteen feet away from. I was still angry about that.

“No, I’m fine...” I nodded my head. “It’s just that my emotional threshold doesn’t stretch very far. I may be slightly psychotic, but I’m in the right profession for that kind of tendency. It’s not like I need to be
 doped up on anti-psychotics or anything.”

“I disagree with that. They way you stared at those kids was eerie. It looked like you were imaging killing them in your head. Were you?” hmm no accent. Perhaps if I got him angry enough... no, I can only fight one battle at a time with a temperature like this outside.

I felt threatened. “You’re asking too many questions. In a moment, a giant surge of energy may flow through me. It may cause me to spring behind you, then viciously attack, and take you down.”

“Like that movie--”

“No, don’t even go there. Don’t worry about my sanity. It’s not like I’m sodomizing children because I hate them.”
           “Why would you even bring that up?”

I disregarded that. “All you should worry about is not getting viciously
stomped on,” I frowned. “Where’s my strawberry ice cream?”
          “Oh sorry. Cone or dish?”

“Cone please.”

“Coming right up.”

“You know, I once paid a guy five bucks to shine my shoes,” The day time birds became a nuisance in my ears. I have a problems with those Goddamn birds too.

“How convenient,” the man responded.

“Well you’re fun to converse with,” I mumbled.

As I waited, I looked over to see all the little kids I pushed past huddled up together and talking in hushed tones. When they saw me watching, they stopped. It’s so cute how they’re trying to be social at their age. Not.

When my cone was finished, I gleefully took it and turned around to walk away. Pablo loyally followed me, but before I could even get away by ten feet and enjoy the pleasures of my ice cream cone, I felt icky sticky fingers and hungry mouths home of missing teeth latch onto me.

“Hey! You fucking bastards! Damn you all to Hell! Let go of me!”

They all came in masses and dragged me to the ground. They stomped me with their size two shoes. They even spat on me with their chocolate spotted saliva.!They pulled on my trousers and rubbed ice cream on my US Army shirt! They piled themselves on me one by one until I couldn’t even breathe! Oh the horror! The horror!

At the last moment, I heard the familiar barking of Pablo. I listened for the scraping of his razor nails as he scampered along the street and raced for my safety.

As he barked, I heard the locking of monstrous teeth and screaming children. My two favorite kinds of music. I laughed hysterically as a woman yelled she was calling the police.

“I’m in the army bitch! I am the law!”

The children left my broken body one by one and hauled ass. My dog continued to chase them around, blood seeping onto his eyes that were mad with revenge and pleasure. He was definitely the animal brother I never wanted.

When I heard the all too familiar sound of police sirens, I reminisced on words I said earlier... I told those kids my dog would rip them a new asshole.

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Date:October 18th, 2011 10:55 pm (UTC)
Hey bro, I had no idea you posted so much... maybe you should be my creative writing teacher instead XD Sorry it took so long to reply, been a bit busy. Thanks for the feedback, I really appreciate it. I'm going to be totally honest with you, I had nooooo idea where I was going with this, I was just writing. How about when I have something solid I'll send it to you and you'll tell me how to fix it?

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