He couldn't believe how stupid and gullible they were. Or how easy this whole thing was going to be. He had nine more to go in this grouping. Then he'd start again.
He remembered all those years when he'd been planning it; he'd been scared. Now it just made him laugh. What the hell had he been afraid of, anyway? There was nothing to fear. I'm a steamroller, baby. And speaking of babies-that was a good one. He couldn't stop laughing. Laugh and laugh and laugh. It felt good to laugh. Some people didn't think so. Some people punished you if you laughed too much. Or too loud. Some damn people hit you if you laughed. But not Mommy and Daddy. They never hit.
So two down, nine to go! What a holiday weekend he was going to give them. One they wouldn't forget, for sure, for sure.
Damn fucks. Always asking him what he was thinking. Which ones were the worst? Maybe the ones when he was twelve. Always bugging him. Questions, questions, questions. They didn't even know how smart he was. Nobody knew that. It was hard to be so smart. Hard to have friends when you're so smart. People get jealous. Jealousy is the worst sin. Worse than anything, they told him. Told him that. Told him. You're just jealous, they said. Stupid. They were the ones who were jealous because he was so smart.
But you'd have to be smart to work this thing out. He'd been planning forever, it seemed. Planning and planning. Diagrams and names. Taking his time. But time is on my side cause this is the right time of year. Years and years of careful study. You can pull the wool over anybody's eyes if you have patience and cunning. Cunning. He'd heard that one, all right. What a cunning little boy he is.
So cunning they beat the shit out of him. Scars to prove it, buster.
You'd better believe it. Right. Yo. All right. Cat-o'-nine-tails. Fists. Belts. Razor strops. You name it, he'd had it. Didn't faze him. Not him. Wouldn't cry. Planned instead. Resolve. He resolved to do it. Do it. Kill them. Every last stinking one of them. He didn't know it would be such easy work. Such enjoyable work. Not like work at all. More like play. Fun. And I'll have fun, fun, fun.
Enough. Get down to work, you. Fooling around, all the time, all the time. Got to plan it out right. Friday night. Music soothes the savage beast. Ha. Music is his name. Musical accompaniment. Music to kill by. Shit, don't start the fucking laughing again. How can he help it when he's so goddamn funny? Keep a civil tongue in your head, boy. Get out the diagrams, the charts. See who's next. He knows who's next.
This one is really going to get them. Really get them. Blow them out of their socks. Blow them from here to kingdom come. Blow, Gabriel, blow. Who did it? they'll ask. Who could do such a thing? they'll say. Who? What beast? What maniac? What brilliant mind could conceive such a thing?
And I'm the last one. The last chance, the last rose of summer, the last Mohican, the last supper, the last killer, the last suspect. I'm the last one they'd ever suspect. Perfect. That's me.