Chapter 79: Peter Plotting
(This "document" came to us later, but here is where it fits the chronology
of our story. I have edited some passages for the sake of coherency, while
striving to retain the--rather disturbing--essence of the original. Art)
the author relating this signs himself "THE ALL-SEEING I"
Everyone thinks Peter Sinsley is so stupid and they are so smart, but it's
just the opposite. They thought he was the bad guy, but he's really the
misunderstood hero. It's gotten all twisted around, so I (the all seeing I)
have got to write this to straighten everything out. Let's just hope nobody
ever reads it.
Poor Peter was hurt so bad when Adam deliberately smashed him in the chest,
two months short of a year ago. His ribs got broken, spine twisted, lungs
collapsed, lots of bad shit. The doctors said his brain was deprived of
oxygen a little too long, so he couldn't remember things, like who he was
or whatever he did to deserve getting punched by a super-strong Bigfoot.
Maybe I'd better note here that Peter has a totally screwy connection with
that same Bigfoot. People tell him that he and Adam Leroy Forest have been
mortal enemies, but Peter can't remember any of that. He does remember
meeting the Bigfoot in a parking lot, but Peter sort of LIKED Adam and wanted
to be friends. And then two-three weeks ago...was that Adam or not?
He'd been innocently sleeping and then suddenly the whole house was shaking
and crashing around him in the dark. It was like being in a war movie. His
Mom and Pop were screaming in another room. Peter'd been sorta confused for
a while by then, but this was out of control, he was scared, trying to hide under
the blankets. And then a Bigfoot comes crashing through the wall and rips
the blankets away and SHRIEKS right in his face so loud that it hurts.
The whole house was dark, but there was just enough light from outside to
see that it really was a Bigfoot, so Peter thinks it had to be Adam. What
other Bigfoot is there? But so close up, that big beardy face all wild-
eyed and crazy and slobbery, it didn't look like Adam at all, but some kind
of evil DEMON. Like in a monster movie.
The thing is, I think that demon somehow got inside Peter's head along with
that shriek that hurt so much. Something weird definitely happened, he could
FEEL it then. And now. Maybe he'd been possessed, like in that Exorcist
movie. So none of what happens next is Peter's fault.
Peter's family had to move into a trailer park in Everett after their house
had been trashed that night, they couldn't live in it. But mostly they just
wanted to get out of Monroe, hoping the angry Sasquatches couldn't find them
in another town. Since Peter's Pop works for Burlington Northern Railway
out of the Everett Yard, it was pretty handy for him. Plus there was this
special facility for mentally and physically handicapped, like they thought
Peter did seem to be getting worse day by day, psychologically, I mean. He
only went to that special facility a few times, until he found out that
everyone else was too stupid and refused to go any more. He has no friends,
hardly ever speaks with anybody except his Mom and Pop. Felix and Sarah
Sinsley are good parents, it's got to be rough on them, but Peter has to
play it this way, demonic possession does that to you.
Peter's Pop had always been an active sportsman, tried to get his son to go
fishing with him, but Peter will only stay in his room and watch television.
Peter's old laptop survived the Bigfoot trashing, but computer games don't
do it for him anymore. Although I am using it to write this, which sort of
amazes me. I haven't written anything since high school.
Anyway, his Pop kind of gave up, avoided contact with his crazy son whenever
he could, rather spending time in taverns than being cooped up in that tiny
mobil home. Peter's Mom was the only person who could get any words out of
him and they weren't so many.
Peter was a classic retard, all right. When not watching TV--any movie, no
matter good or bad--he mostly sat in his room and looked out the window.
Sitting still he looks normal, blond and handsome of noble Aryan-American
descent. But whenever he moves, he twitches and jerks like a spastic and
looks UGLY. Oh yeah, he's aware of that. When he does speak it's slow and
with no expression, like he's brooding about something, but never says what.
Sometimes he laughs at the television, sometimes he cries.
Once in a while he even speaks normal, suddenly sounding all right again,
maybe even intelligent. Or something. But if anyone comments about that, he
always says something really stupid after. On purpose.
One thing Peter did like was going shopping at The Everett Mall with his Mom,
although not so much when his Pop was along. But anyway, they were all
three together this time, his Mom leading Peter by the hand, when his Pop
decided to go into a music shop to see if there was any good new Country &
Western music to be found. The shitkickin' kind.
Inside the shop they all three stopped and stared at the big flashy poster
advertising a brand new CD. Squatch & Friends, Live in Concert. There was
an almost life-sized photo of that Bigfoot we all knew, Adam Leroy Forest,
playing guitar on a stage with his band, an Indian guy and two really
Peter liked the girls. Light and Dark meat, they made him feel something,
both of them, like he remembered them real up-close and sweaty. But the more
he looked at the blond girl, the more it hurt.
Peter's Pop was swearing under his breath about that poster, complaining how
he hadn't been able to avoid hearing some of those songs on the radio, since
they get so much airplay now, but he sure as hell wasn't going to BUY the
The more Peter's Pop thought about that night the two sasquatches invaded
his house, the less certain he felt that Adam had actually saved their lives.
At first he had been grateful, later to wonder if he'd been made a fool of.
Adam was supposed to go find the guilty Bigfoot, but weeks had gone by
without a word. Besides, it rankled him to be grateful to that monkey boy.
He started to move on, but noticed that Peter's Mom was having trouble getting
their son to keep up. Peter was just plain frozen in place, staring up at the
poster like he was hypnotized. He was shaking all over, his bad arm squeezed
tight into his chest, mouth hanging open even more stupidly than usual.
Ugly, I'm sure.
"That poster," Peter's Mom was saying, looking half-hypnotized herself, "it's
"No shit, I hope he doesn't have a fit right here in the store, let's get
him out of here!"
He tried to lead Peter out of the shop as smoothly as possible. But Peter
wasn't having it, he gave a hard jerk to get free, grunted and squealed. It
was becoming a scene, the Mall was full of people and they were all looking.
Peter's Pop scratched his head in embarrassment, "C'mon, Pete, we gotta go."
"Hey, snap out of it!" his Pop shook Peter solidly by both shoulders. "We're
going home now!"
"Felix, not so rough! His back!"
Suddenly Peter spoke like a normal human being, "Poppa, I want THAT record!"
"Give me that record, please Poppa."
"Are you fucking out of your...you don't want THAT CD, son. Tell you what,
any OTHER CD you want, you got it. But we don't want THAT one in the house!"
Peter scrunched up his face and began to cry, like a baby, threw a classic
fit. "I want that record! Want, want, want!" Several people noticed and
were watching this, his father's patience began to be used up.
"Oh, just get it for him," Peter's Mom suggested, "if he wants it so bad."
"No! I'm not gonna let him push me around with this spoiled brat act!"
Peter's Pop lost it and began pushing his crazy son out of the music shop,
to a musical accompaniment of shrieking and howling.
Peter's Pop looks for Peter's Mom to help, but she's not there. A sec later
she comes hurrying out of the record store with the CD she had just bought
and jams it into Peter's good hand, "Here, Petey, here's the record you..."
"Godammit, woman!" Peter's Pop snatches the CD from Peter's grasp even as
he's just beginning to cluck with satisfaction. He tosses it out into the
Mall Walkway. "Since when do you go against me?"
So Peter's really wailing now, lots louder.
"This time I do, Felix! My God, look at him."
There are lots of mirrors in the Mall, I could see that Peter did look pretty
pathetic, if not totally psychotic. Eyes blazing with madness and all that,
lots of hate and rage. Peter's Pop backed off. I don't blame him, Peter
looked pretty scary.
Peter's Mom returned with the album again and stuffed it back into Peter's
hand. He became quiet, clutching it like his dearest possession, was at
peace, sniffling just a little.
"I don't understand," Peter's Pop tried to calm himself, "why would he even
want a CD of that fucking Bigfoot. He HATES Adam!"
"Look at the picture, Felix. It's not the Sasquatch, it's HER! Melly
Wielson was Peter's girl friend before..."
Yes, the girl. The poster showed that big hairy monster and that beautiful
blond Melly playing music together, looking at each other as if they just HAD
to be in love. Peter felt a twinge of sick, reminding himself of all the
horniness he had once felt for that luscious young girl. He was suddenly HIT
by memories of having made love to her, again and again, back when she had
been HIS girl friend. Now she was lost to him, forever.
But not completely lost, he could still SEE her on CD posters and TV and
newspapers and magazine covers everywhere. Now every man could be horny for
"All right, all right," Peter's Pop finally caved, "he can have the fucking
thing. But NEVER play it while I'm in the house, I don't want to hear it.
I'm surprised you do!"
He gave Peter's Mom the car keys, "You take him home, I'm gonna go to the
tavern for a few beers."
At home, Peter's Mom observed him listening to that CD. He looked almost
normal, sat up as straight as he could, his eyes showed interest, he looked
alert. For a moment she could imagine him as his old self, the handsome and
clever Peter Sinsley: Melly Wielson's boy friend.
Whenever his father was away at work Peter would play the album over and over
again, never tiring of it. He would sometimes listen to a particular song
many times in succession before allowing the next one to be studied. It did
not seem to be for pleasure, but to analyze, to scrutinize, to decode the
secret messages within.
At first Peter's Mom was pleasantly surprised by the music; she liked it. But
she became quite tired of each song being repeated endlessly, volume above
the threshold of pain. But when she asked Peter to turn it down or simply to
play something else for a while he became nasty and aggressive. So she put
up with it.
After three days his obsession peaked, he played it less, then not at all and
there was a miraculous change: Peter began to go for walks, alone. Even
though it was hard on him, his twitchy lurch was not so good for long
distances and got him pitiful stares from anyone he passed. But his parents
were glad to see him do it, both for his sake and their own.
It was impossible for anyone to know what was going on in Peter Sinsley's
supposedly damaged brain, all they could do was analyze his actions and he
carried on doing his impression of being a helpless mental wreck. But I do
happen to know (being Peter's all seeing I) that for some reason his brain
was working better every day, waking up again. The dumb Peter routine was
all an act. I can't tell you WHY he was faking it, all that he really knew
himself was that he was on a secret mission.
He began to steal money from his parents and carried a heavy screwdriver with
him everywhere, using it to pry open vending machines when no one was around,
stealing the coins inside. He needed money to buy every magazine and
newspaper that had pictures of Melly Wielson, collecting them.
He bought porno magazines from a seedy shop on the other side of town, a long
walk back and forth for the poor guy. He cut out photos of Melly's face and
pasted them onto pictures of naked women having professional sex. He kept
these collages under his bed so that his parents would not find them.
Peter researched what was going on in Melly's life at the moment, which was
easy, being broadcast on radio and TV every day. The overnight success of
Squatch & Friends was big news (especially locally, Monroe being only a 20-
minute drive away from Everett). He knew that she'd been involved in
business and PR for the band over the last two weeks, that the Forest home
was currently their headquarters and that Adam was away on some other
business of his own. Bigfoot-wise, the coast was clear.
So then he commenced stalking her. He began calling various telephone
numbers where Melly might be: her own cell phone was unlisted, so he tried
the Forest home first. Lissandra was taking all calls and he didn't dare
speak to her since she knew his voice too well. Then he tried Doug Wielson's
house and the apartment Melly and Lissandra had shared, in the off-chance
that Melly happened to be there and took the telephone herself, but he was
never so lucky.
Peter no longer had a own cell phone of his own, but was smart enough never
to borrow either of his parent's, which could be traced. Instead he found
some of the few pay-phones still working in public buildings. It's clear
that these were hardly the strategies of a simple fool, but of an efficiently
Peter's Mom wondered where he went on his mysterious walks, he'd be gone for
hours, but he kept on playing the part of an idiot (and rather cleverly at
that), so she learned nothing. She attempted to follow him once and he
screamed at her that he only wanted to "be alone!" So she let him go,
afraid to interfere with him since he actually seemed to be getting better
in his own way.
Peter stole (or borrowed) an old VW beetle parked in front of a house where
the occupants were obviously out of town, according to all the newspapers and
ads stacked up on the front porch. He had spotted it the evening before and
had patiently waited until the next morning. Forgotten mechanical skills
were revived, such as the trick of hot-wiring a car. Then he broke into that
unmanned house and found an old double-barreled 12-guage shotgun with two
boxes of ammunition, which he took. Now he was ready.
He drove to Monroe, passing by the Wielson house to make certain Melly's car
was not there, then out to Old Pipe Line Road and past the place so stupidly
called "Hacienda Forest", like Mexicans live there, or something. Anyway,
their house is well-hidden from the road so he couldn't see doodly-squat from
there. He parked a few hundred meters past the driveway and slipped into the
woods to walk back unseen. Took the shotgun with him, just in case.
It was not easy for poor crippled Peter to move through those tangly woods,
though his walk had improved drastically over the last few days. Practice
and discipline had worked wonders, even his left arm was developing a more
natural swing to it. But the effort was heroic; he staggered toward the
house with gritted teeth and obsessive concentration.
He'd never been there before (having never been friends with the Forest
family) so it was a surprise when he suddenly came to the clearing with the
big old log cabin in the middle of it. Three-four cars were parked in front,
but not one he could recognize as Melly's (he couldn't know that she now
owned the cute little red BMW Roadster he found himself admiring). He was
almost taken by surprise again when three people came out of the house all at
once, to drink coffee on the terrace. Peter executed a flashy roll-dive back
into the woods to hide, worried he'd been spotted.
But no, they had been too busy gabbing with each other to notice anyone else.
Peter cleverly found a nice thick bush so that he could secretly observe them.
He was disappointed to see that Melly was not with them. Lissandra was, some
older woman and Pokey. Damn them, he didn't need anyone getting in the way
just now, although Peter wouldn't mind getting sexy Lissandra off alone in
the woods for a while. Pokey, well he was just an Indian anyway, the shotgun
was too good for him. Peter guessed that the older woman had to be Adam's
mother, Elaine Forest.
No, wait a minute, hadn't Pop shot and killed Adam's mother a long time ago?
No wait again; I'm confusing myself, that was his Bigfoot mother. This one
reminded him of his own Mom, nice, pretty and vulnerable. Adam would really
Peter forgot about all the others and what he could do to them when Melly
herself, the very object of his stalking, came out of the house and joined
them on the porch. It was like the sunny day became even brighter.
It was a hot day and Melly was wearing the usual skimpy t-shirt and shorts
Peter remembered so well, showing lots of nice tan skin and cute pokies. So
were the other women, but our Peter had no more eyes for them, now totally
zeroed onto Melly. Her blond hair was tossed up and out-of-the-way into a
casual tangle of shining fluff, no attempt at being gorgeous, but Melly never
could avoid being so beautiful that it hurt anyway.
And yeah, poor Peter hurt. Aching so bad for the girl he had lost was not fun.
At least punishing her would be.
He was too far away to hear what they were talking about, but could tell they
were excited and happy about something, laughing and teasing. And why not?
They were on their way to being rich and famous, while Peter crouched out in
the jungle, poor guy, unloved, unwelcome, unwanted. Well, he'd just have to
But not show himself, no, he was too smart for that. And being smart, Peter
had a plan:
1) Kidnap Melly.
2) Take her out into the woods and tie her up.
3) Rape her. Lots of times. For days. Maybe weeks.
4) Kill her with the shotgun from up inside her. Poetically symbolic.
5) Kill himself, shotgun to the head--no wait, scratch that. I'll never
get caught, who's going to suspect the local retard of anything?
Some of the practical details were still kind of vague, but he knew that this
was how it had to be. His mission, y'know.
You might be asking if I'm aware of just how fucking crazy I must be. Yeah,
it's beginning to sink in. But it's not me, it's him there, Peter.
I didn't mind obsessing over Melly, that was sort of fun. But I never really
wanted to HURT her or anybody else either. But this Demon Peter's got is out
to do some real fucking EVIL and I'm not supposed to get in the way. If there
really IS a demon, maybe I'm just schizo. Who could say, him or me?
But back to Peter, who was considering just shooting everyone on the terrace,
even aiming the shotgun, but knowing that they were too far away to be sure
of any outcome. Besides, he didn't want to hurt Melly, not yet. He mostly
wanted to rape her and he needed her to be beautiful for that, not bloody
Then they all went inside the house again, their coffee-break over. Telephones
were ringing; Peter could hear them doing business, probably making millions
of dollars because of that Squatch & Friends album. Good album, he thought,
I sure liked it anyway, found himself humming "Lonelyman & the Self-Pity
Blues". Then he remembered to be quiet.
He went into action. Just like in a war movie, he circled around to the back
of the house and then made a dash for it, crouching under the window and pressed
up against the wall so that no one could see him. Just like in a cop show,
he was in position with shotgun ready. He would make a surprise attack,
charge inside, blast everyone but Melly up at close range... no, wait, maybe
I should kidnap Lissandra too. It would be even better to rape them BOTH!
Shit, I'll just play it by ear, here goes...
A car pulled up in the front driveway. Peter froze up. More people: who,
how many? He chickened out and dashed back into the woods, just like in a
It was Mr. Forest, Peter recognized him as one of the teachers from Monroe
High School and he was not alone. Melly's father, Doug Wielson, was along
for the ride. Peter didn't like that, he and Doug had gotten along all right
when he and Melly were dating, he didn't really want to have to blast him too.
This was getting messy, too many people around. Peter crept deeper into the
woods to wait.
It had been a hot day, thick with sweat and mosquitoes, our poor little Peter
was suffering out there, he was hungry, but would not give up. It got hotter
and muggy. Then it got cloudy and dark and finally it began to rain really
hard. That was almost better than the heat, but then it got cold and our
hero had no jacket or warm clothes. By then he'd been out there so long that
it even became night. I'm telling you, life was being hard on our good Peter
Now that it was dark he moved closer to the house, following the lights in
the windows. That was the only light he had, so moving through the trees and
bushes took a long time, lots of falling down, getting scratched and poked.
He tried to be quiet but ended up bashing his way through the tangles with
the shotgun. The rain was so loud that it didn't matter anyway. Finally he
was right beside the house, looking in the windows to see who was in there.
They were having a meeting after dinner, still sitting around the dining
table. Peter was having nothing, including dinner, thank you. He could see
food and wine on the table, his mouth watered, stomach grumbled. Man, it
just wasn't fair! But he maintained discipline, watching for his chance to
grab Melly. There were just too many people right then, maybe when she went
About eleven o'clock at night the cozy scene broke up. Peter had almost
fallen asleep, standing in the rain, but the sound of the front door opening
aroused him. He scuttled around the big log cabin to get a better view, just
in time to see Melly and her father getting into the BMW, her driving. Yeah,
suddenly she was leaving!
Peter wanted to run to the car, but he almost couldn't even walk, too stiff
from standing in the rain and the cold. And the Forests were standing on the
porch calling, "Goodnight, see you tomorrow!" to Doug and Melly. There was no
way to reach the car without being seen by them. Our unlucky Peter had to
just watch the BMW start up and drive out the driveway without him.
But now he knew that she was going home to her father in Monroe! He stumbled
back into the woods to pass the house unseen, then headed for his car. Peter
would catch them on the road, his battered old beetle out accelerating that
little BMW sportster, shoot the tires off their car, overpower Doug and steal
his daughter away into the night. Nothing could stop him now!
He hurried as well as he could, falling and bumping into trees in the dark, now
having no lighted windows to go after. The rain fell even harder, he was afraid
a flash flood might sweep him away. After an hour of that he finally admitted
to himself that he was lost in the woods.
He had stumbled into a marsh area, didn't want to lay down in water, but
finally collapsed where he could rest his head on a stump so that he wouldn't
drown and let himself fall asleep.
He woke up when his face slipped under water anyway, coughing and gagging,
sneezing and everything short of actually dying. The sky was getting brighter
by then, he could almost see where he was going. But he was still lost, it
was a sunny day again by the time he came to a gravel road he could follow,
no idea which way his car was parked.
Finally he came to Sultan, a town he knew on Highway 2. He was starving, but
only had just enough money to buy two Twinkies. Peter found out that he was
over ten miles from the VW bug. He considered just leaving it, there was
nothing to connect it with him, but he needed it. He tried to hitchhike back,
but there was very little traffic and he looked like a derelict or a junkie.
He never got a ride. You don't need all the details, it was another bad day
for our hero.
And it ended up with him driving the Bug to the Wielson house early in the
evening, sneaking around behind it, limping badly, pounding on the locked
door with the shotgun ready to blast whoever opened it if he had to. But
nobody home. Everything was going wrong! He fell down and cried for
But you can't keep a Sinsley down, he arose once more and broke into the
Wielson house through a back window. He found the kitchen and ate whatever
he found first, even if it was all organic veggy crap, salads and alfalfa
sprouts. There was no meat or white bread to be had. There was some really
awful gunk called "tofu" but it went down all right if you smeared it with
enough catsup and mustard.
Peter looked around the house and found Melly's room, though it looked
like she hadn't been living there for a while. There were pictures on the
wall, some of that Bigfoot, some of herself and Lissandra, but none of Peter.
There were old clothes in the closet and Peter tried smelling them, but there
was nothing ripe enough to give him a thrill. Some drawers were open and half-
empty, like she'd just packed her bags in a hurry to get out of town.
He found a drawer with a few pieces of underwear and sniffed at them too, but
they were all disappointingly clean, smelling of Flowery-Freshness instead of
Melly-Pussy. But that gave him a brilliant idea! He checked the dirty-clothes
hamper next to the washing machine in the basement. And sure enough, he won the
jackpot: a discarded pair of the whitest flimsy-little-nothing undies, probably
worn only once before changing, with the cutest little stain at the taint.
The smell was so faint that he couldn't tell if it was from her pussy or her
asshole, but no matter, he'd been crazy about them both. Though he'd never
been allowed to plug more than a little finger into socket number two.
"That will have to be rectumfied," he promised himself.
(Get it? rectified/rectum, see how clever with words Peter is now? He's
He put the undies in his pocket, then covered his tracks, putting all the
rummaged clothes back into the hamper so that no one would think he was a
pervert. Besides, Melly liked things to be tidy, she'd always been a stickler
for neatness. Love that girl.
Peter had to decide if he should go back to the Forest place, but he couldn't
bear the idea. He would wait here to see if Melly showed up. It got dark
outside but he didn't turn on any lights, the house should be dark. So he
just sat in a chair and faced the front door with his double-barreled shotgun
Sniffing the little stain in her under panties helped pass the time.
About 9:00 o'clock a car pulled up in front of the house. Peter didn't dare
look out the window to see if it was a BMW or not. No matter what kind of
car it was, someone came up the steps to the front door, turned a key and
opened it. It was a man, silhouetted in the doorway, not Melly.
There was nothing else Peter could do, he was not going to be identified.
Without hesitation he pulled both triggers of the double-barreled shotgun
aimed point blank at Doug Wielson.
There were two loud CLICKs.
Stupid Peter had forgotten to load the shotgun. Or maybe that was what his
subconscious self had really intended all along, how would I know? I don't
really understand that guy.
Melly's dad heard the sound of the weapon and moved sideways from the
doorway, like he knew what it was. No panic or scrambling there, smooth
moves. Peter remembered something about Doug working for some government
agency: which one? he wondered. CIA? NSA? Undercover Assasins?
Up to now Peter had been hidden by the darkness, still unidentified. He
slammed the front door shut, turned and ran for the broken window by the back
door, thinking he might still get away. He checked his pockets for shotgun
shells, then finally remembered that he had never even opened the boxes of
ammo. He had nothing. But he opened and shut the shotgun anyway, so it
sounded like he was loading up.
That seemed to work, Doug was not waiting for him by the back door to chop
Peter apart with agency-trained karate skills. Doug was smarter than that,
he had run the other way. Peter moved as he hadn't since Adam had smashed
him flat with that one punch, forgetting his crippled body as he vaulted
fences, ran at full speed through back yards, avoiding dogs, climbing over
buildings in his way. And when he finally stopped of exhaustion, he was
alone. He made it.
He was surprised to find that he still had the shotgun in his hand, which was
good. He had wiped all his fingerprints away in the kitchen, but was not
finished with the weapon. He found his way back to the VW and hid in it for
a long time before he dared start the motor and drive away.
Peter went home to Everett, he HAD to, he was sick and hurting too bad to go
on with the mission. Coming home was very messy, Mom and Pop had been going
crazy, the police were looking for me...I mean, Peter. Good thing HE had put
the VW back where he got it, nobody even noticed it had been gone. He hid
the shotgun, careful to wipe all fingerprints this time, just in case,
though no crime had been done with it. Yet.
Peter told everybody he'd been lost in the woods and was sick and scratched
up enough to prove it. Playing the idiot again, not sure where he'd been,
didn't know nothing. He got away with it. Pretty smart guy.
But Melly, Melly, Melly still unpunished. Peter would resume his heroic
mission as soon as he was on his feet again, first he need to recuperate.
Back in his room again, he turned on the TV. Just in time to hear them
talking about her. Important news.
"Two local girls from the phenomenally successful Squatch & Friends rock band,
Melly Wielson and Lissandra Cunnings, flew from SeaTac Airport yesterday, on
their way to conquer the Golden State of California. They will be meeting
with prominent persons in the entertainment industry, as well as making a
special appearance on The Evening Show in Los Angeles, to be televised
this coming Friday."
Peter gave up. He can't go to LA after her, not right now, hasn't got the
money or the energy. He'll just have to wait
But waiting is not good, he's falling back into his old habits of watching TV
and staring out the window. Our obsession is losing all momentum, slipping
away into nowhere again. It felt so good to be alive for a while, even as a
So I'm writing this to keep his mind focused on the mission. Remind himself
to go for the gusto, victory is out there, all that crap. Be all you can,
Peter, be heroic.
Yeah, yeah, I know he's really the villain, Adam's been the hero all along,
but it's all the same in the end. Good movies need good villains. Peter's
actually a pretty good guy...or...
No he isn't. He's an asshole. Or let me say it like it is: I'm an asshole,
always been one. I steal, I cheat, I hurt girls (not just Melly and Liss,
all of them). I'd like to blame my Pop, he's an asshole too, but he probably
couldn't help it either.
Maybe I could blame my friends, they were bad influences all the way, I mean,
Marty Rockon? Big George Avery? Worse assholes than me. I wish.
So if I was to change, choose a new life, get better friends? Who would it be?
Who is honest and noble and dependable enough that fucked-up Peter could ever
wanna-be like him? One name comes to mind, but I'd be too ashamed to say it.
Besides, it's way too late for that, I mean I KILLED him almost. And now I'm
going to kill his girl friend. My girl friend. My ex.
No it's by far easiest just to blame that fucking Bigfoot: if Adam had just
died along with his mother everybody would be happy. Pop would be a hero
instead of an asshole and Melly would be with me.
You know, I really did have a shot with her once. Now all I've got for her
is a shotgun. Man, I write good, turning cool phrases. Only thing I don't
understand is why I'm writing THIS, it's practically a signed confession. Or
it would be if I had actually done anything yet. Now I'll just save it under
the name "EVILPLAN.txt" and leave it on the Desktop in plain sight. Why? Maybe
it's my subconscious again, just like forgetting to load the shotgun. Maybe
I WANT to get caught before I actually do hurt Melly.
Enough of this philosophical shit, think I'll just turn on the TV. Maybe
there's some good movies. Or bad, I don't care.
Until Whenever it is time to strike again;
the Mysterious, the Fascinating
All Seeing I