I found her. Or at least for a moment I thought I had finally found her.
In that vast food court in a soulless shopping centre in the middle of my hunting ground sat at last the girl of my dreams.
Round but not obese, worn down, tired looking and defeated by her sad life.
Everything in her posture said “kick me” and they are always the ones we look for.
Don’t believe the hype about us all been fucked up by our Mothers “oh Oedipus” we are not, well not all of us.
She looked neither like my mother or any woman I had ever known. None of them do.
What they all have is that inner thing that always tells them they are useless. It is like a spark to us, a little dark light that shines just for us.
And at last here she sat. Hunched over her food like she were ashamed to be eating.
And why not, aren’t girls told every day that they are fat, food is bad, skinny is good, to say you enjoy eating in this day and age is like admitting you like sex with hookers.
It’s great for me, inbuilt media driven loathing of self has given me a whole new world of fun.
So I sat and I watched and I let myself feel that first warm glow of love spread.
That early warm feeling of pure love before all the meanness and sex comes on.
The feeling a normal boy might have had for his some what foxy pre-school teacher.
I was getting all long and languid, a cat in catnip gooiness spreading over me, when something bad happened.
She sat up straight. Her shoulders went back and her head up. She scanned that food court for who ever was looking, not seeing me she did not tuck her head back down like most fat girls would; instead she started to eat like some freaking Queen of Sheba. My beautiful trampled target was gone and some bolshie chick sat in her place.
It was like a slap to your balls with a head masters bat.
I had wanted her, she looked so good, she had shiny hair and great teeth and trim little finger nails on her fat little fingers.
She took care of herself and not all my girls did.
But why that change? How could she be the ‘one’ and in a flash not be the ‘one’. Fuck her I might just kill her anyway.
In that vast food court in a soulless shopping centre in the middle of my hunting ground sat at last the girl of my dreams.
Round but not obese, worn down, tired looking and defeated by her sad life.
Everything in her posture said “kick me” and they are always the ones we look for.
Don’t believe the hype about us all been fucked up by our Mothers “oh Oedipus” we are not, well not all of us.
She looked neither like my mother or any woman I had ever known. None of them do.
What they all have is that inner thing that always tells them they are useless. It is like a spark to us, a little dark light that shines just for us.
And at last here she sat. Hunched over her food like she were ashamed to be eating.
And why not, aren’t girls told every day that they are fat, food is bad, skinny is good, to say you enjoy eating in this day and age is like admitting you like sex with hookers.
It’s great for me, inbuilt media driven loathing of self has given me a whole new world of fun.
So I sat and I watched and I let myself feel that first warm glow of love spread.
That early warm feeling of pure love before all the meanness and sex comes on.
The feeling a normal boy might have had for his some what foxy pre-school teacher.
I was getting all long and languid, a cat in catnip gooiness spreading over me, when something bad happened.
She sat up straight. Her shoulders went back and her head up. She scanned that food court for who ever was looking, not seeing me she did not tuck her head back down like most fat girls would; instead she started to eat like some freaking Queen of Sheba. My beautiful trampled target was gone and some bolshie chick sat in her place.
It was like a slap to your balls with a head masters bat.
I had wanted her, she looked so good, she had shiny hair and great teeth and trim little finger nails on her fat little fingers.
She took care of herself and not all my girls did.
But why that change? How could she be the ‘one’ and in a flash not be the ‘one’. Fuck her I might just kill her anyway.
I Found Her part 2
My sister always tells me I am been paranoid when I tell her people watch me eat in food courts. But she is skinny mo minnie and is used to people watching her do most things because she is hot.
But people really do watch fat people eat in food courts and today was bad. Who ever that person was they gave me the willies. It went past the normal sideways look to see what fatty was eating. This was an intense boring a hole in my head look.
And they were not checking me out in a good way. I know those looks too. There is a look that men who like their ladies round give, a kind of timid looks because they are not sure how they will be received. Anyway this was not one of them.
It was gooey in a bad way and so I sat up, ate my food like I had a right to, like I owned that place. I have to say I am lucky I have that “thing” in me. That inbuilt whatever it is that makes me not really care that I am chubby. I still prefer been me with me size 16 roundness, then my friends who are a size 6 and won’t wear togs to the beach.
But I was blue at the start of the meal, the job is boring me and the hours blow and I was starting to let myself get low, so I suppose I should thank the looker, whoever it was today, because as soon as you put your head up and your shoulders back you start to see things better and I did today. And as Scarlet says tomorrow is another day.
But people really do watch fat people eat in food courts and today was bad. Who ever that person was they gave me the willies. It went past the normal sideways look to see what fatty was eating. This was an intense boring a hole in my head look.
And they were not checking me out in a good way. I know those looks too. There is a look that men who like their ladies round give, a kind of timid looks because they are not sure how they will be received. Anyway this was not one of them.
It was gooey in a bad way and so I sat up, ate my food like I had a right to, like I owned that place. I have to say I am lucky I have that “thing” in me. That inbuilt whatever it is that makes me not really care that I am chubby. I still prefer been me with me size 16 roundness, then my friends who are a size 6 and won’t wear togs to the beach.
But I was blue at the start of the meal, the job is boring me and the hours blow and I was starting to let myself get low, so I suppose I should thank the looker, whoever it was today, because as soon as you put your head up and your shoulders back you start to see things better and I did today. And as Scarlet says tomorrow is another day.
I Found Her Part 3
I am all bent out of shape.
I wanted her, but she went and morphed on me.
I ended up following her anyway.
I thought if I was lucky she might change back into the trampled little fatty I first saw in the food court.
But no such luck, so no fuck for me.
I followed her to work and she just shone there.
All those people doing what she said and loving it.
Where does that sort of attitude come from in a girl like her?
That was why I loved this new media soaked world of the naughties.
Woman now have no sense of self.
It is all packaged up and given to them by their favourite brand.
But not her.
When I first killed one of my girls it was a different world.
Woman knew who or what they where.
They were Good Girls or they were Bad Girls.
They were Saints or they were Whores.
They were Mothers or they were Spinsters.
And not much else.
I still can’t say what I liked most,
The Bad Girls who thought that they got what they deserved.
Or the Good Girls who where almost indignant at what was happening to them.
Bless.
But this one pisses me right off.
She’s fat so meant to be unhappy.
Her hair is dark, not blonde like it should be for success.
She is far too smart and does not hide it around men,
So will never do well in the real world.
She will probably have to start up some sort of
At-home-online-organic-safe-for-the-whales-be-a-better-you-type-business.
I should save her from that, it might be more humane if I did kill her.
I wanted her, but she went and morphed on me.
I ended up following her anyway.
I thought if I was lucky she might change back into the trampled little fatty I first saw in the food court.
But no such luck, so no fuck for me.
I followed her to work and she just shone there.
All those people doing what she said and loving it.
Where does that sort of attitude come from in a girl like her?
That was why I loved this new media soaked world of the naughties.
Woman now have no sense of self.
It is all packaged up and given to them by their favourite brand.
But not her.
When I first killed one of my girls it was a different world.
Woman knew who or what they where.
They were Good Girls or they were Bad Girls.
They were Saints or they were Whores.
They were Mothers or they were Spinsters.
And not much else.
I still can’t say what I liked most,
The Bad Girls who thought that they got what they deserved.
Or the Good Girls who where almost indignant at what was happening to them.
Bless.
But this one pisses me right off.
She’s fat so meant to be unhappy.
Her hair is dark, not blonde like it should be for success.
She is far too smart and does not hide it around men,
So will never do well in the real world.
She will probably have to start up some sort of
At-home-online-organic-safe-for-the-whales-be-a-better-you-type-business.
I should save her from that, it might be more humane if I did kill her.
I found Her part 4
I have had to go to the police to file a report. Someone is following me. I know it sounds mad but there is someone following me. Everyday for the past two weeks in this book I have at some point mentioned feeling like someone is looking at me, following me or hovering.
When I was a social worker I would use the Gift of Fear by Gavin De Becker as a reference for women I worked with who thought they might be in trouble. I know all the warning signs so I went to the police.
I think the little saint must be looking out for me. When I walked in the cop shop a police officer who I worked with as a social worker was there. So when I walked in randomly off the street and said I needed to report I was been followed he did not brush me off as a loony. I know there is nothing they can do. But at least if something happens they will have a record of it.
When I was a social worker I would use the Gift of Fear by Gavin De Becker as a reference for women I worked with who thought they might be in trouble. I know all the warning signs so I went to the police.
I think the little saint must be looking out for me. When I walked in the cop shop a police officer who I worked with as a social worker was there. So when I walked in randomly off the street and said I needed to report I was been followed he did not brush me off as a loony. I know there is nothing they can do. But at least if something happens they will have a record of it.
I Found Her part 5
So my fat little friend is not stupid either.
She went into a police station today.
I don’t know what she said but I know I will have to back off for a while.
I have followed fatties for months and they have never known.
She went into a police station today.
I don’t know what she said but I know I will have to back off for a while.
I have followed fatties for months and they have never known.
How does she?
I want to know her.
I want to know what makes this one so different.
But I will have to wait now.
Can’t do the deed when people are looking, like a coy matron would not pee in public.
I don’t want to kill her like the others, they are casual sex and she is a committed relationship.
I know I will kill her in time, I have to, she has got my goat and I want it back.
This is when I wish there was a Sex Killing for Dummies or a Facebook page for us.
Everyman and his dog has a Facebook group but not us.
No, there is no Facebook page for us.
I don’t even know if I have met another me,
I want to know her.
I want to know what makes this one so different.
But I will have to wait now.
Can’t do the deed when people are looking, like a coy matron would not pee in public.
I don’t want to kill her like the others, they are casual sex and she is a committed relationship.
I know I will kill her in time, I have to, she has got my goat and I want it back.
This is when I wish there was a Sex Killing for Dummies or a Facebook page for us.
Everyman and his dog has a Facebook group but not us.
No, there is no Facebook page for us.
I don’t even know if I have met another me,
I have had suspicions before but how do you start that conversation?
I like to kill for fun, how about you?
And fuck Dexter and his writer.
We are not in any way noble or containable.
We are just bad and have always been and will be till the world ends, Amen.
I might just start that Facebook page.
Most people would think it was a gag.
But someone out there might be able to tell me what to do in this situation.
Maybe one of me has fallen for one of them before and they will tell me what to do.
I read the books about us and some of us are married but their wives always seem so dumb and sheep like.
I like to kill for fun, how about you?
And fuck Dexter and his writer.
We are not in any way noble or containable.
We are just bad and have always been and will be till the world ends, Amen.
I might just start that Facebook page.
Most people would think it was a gag.
But someone out there might be able to tell me what to do in this situation.
Maybe one of me has fallen for one of them before and they will tell me what to do.
I read the books about us and some of us are married but their wives always seem so dumb and sheep like.
I don’t think my fatty would miss the fact that I killed for fun.
I Found Her part 6
Things seem to back to normal now. No one is watching me anymore. This is good, but also creepy. What if they watched me go to the cop shop, and that is why they stopped? I went through all the usual suspects in my head and could not come up with the Kayser Soze in my life. One of my ex’s is a bit mad, but in a self destructive way, not in a hurt me way. It can’t be someone from work, all that kind of weirdness ended when I stopped doing case work.
Would some random person really see me and just start to follow me? Who does that anyway? No that is just made up bad movie stuff. I know the stats; if a woman gets killed it is normally by someone she knows. I mean really is there some physco killer out there who goes in for short chubby brunettes!?
Would some random person really see me and just start to follow me? Who does that anyway? No that is just made up bad movie stuff. I know the stats; if a woman gets killed it is normally by someone she knows. I mean really is there some physco killer out there who goes in for short chubby brunettes!?
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