By  "Splatter" Joe Solmo

                I have been given a chance to tell my side of the story. One last time my name will be mentioned throughout the nation before it is lost in obscurity. I honestly not sure how I am writing this down, I am dead. Somehow I have a chance to tell my side of the story, a chance I just can’t pass up.

                It all started about a year ago, at least that’s was when the feelings grew to an unbearable stage. All my life I wanted to hurt people, but I never did. I went to see shrinks, but they just wanted an hourly rate and zoned out as I talked. I went to hospitals, but the staff there annoyed me with their goddamn self-righteousness. When the urges reached an unbearable state, I was left all alone. Alone to my own faulty thoughts. No one was there to help me, or listen to my cries for help, I burned all those bridges already. Maybe that is why I did what I did, but I doubt it. I can lie to myself, but deep down inside I know better, it was all me.

                Anyway, back to what happened. I was riding the city bus, the 103, the same bus I ride almost every day. I thought it was going to just be another boring day, but this day would be different. There was a little girl on the bus sitting in the seat in front of me. She and her mother were singing children’s songs.

                The wheels on the bus go round and round.

                Both of them sang out of key and it was driving me nuts.  Everyone else on that damn bus was smiling at them and encouraging the little girl, I couldn’t believe it. Absolutely no consideration for me at all, a hard working blue collar American!

                The wheels on the bus go round and round.

                That little bitch, I thought, as she turned around in her seat and peeked her little head over it. She pointed at me with a tiny finger, taunting me with her childlike laughter sprouting from her demon orifice. That high pitched, annoying voice piercing into my mind, drowning out rational thought.

                “Sing with us, mister,” that demon squeaked at me, I flinched from the sound.

                “Could you please quiet down,” I asked the little cunt nicely, but did she listen? No. She only pointed at me and sang the song louder. My anger began to grow like a weed, digging its roots into my subconscious, there was no stopping the rage, it was a cancerous tumor on my rational thought.

                Anyway, that little shit-stain just kept right on singing her damn song after she turned back around, and the people still encouraged her. I know some of them heard me ask her to be quiet, why was I being ignored?

                Shortly I began to see red before my eyes and I knew what I had to do, I was about to act when a dizziness washed over my being. Everything went black, all except that girls face as she fidgeted in her seat until she was facing me again. Tunnel vision settle in and all I could see was that little twat’s face with her dimples and pig tails. He face made me want to puke.

                Suddenly her face began to melt and her true nature shined through. The childlike demon taunted me with remarks from my past, taunting me about all the mistakes I had made. I looked to the other riders to see their reaction to the demon revealing itself.  No one seemed to notice, I looked at the old man across the aisle and he was still encouraging the imp before me. The woman sitting next to the girl, the demon’s mother was oblivious to the hellspawn adjacent. Maybe she was in on it?

                “Shut up Bitch!” I yelled into its demonic features, after having enough of the taunting. That’s when the mother came to life.

                She twisted in her seat so fast I was surprised her spine didn’t break. She was overweight and about thirty-five. It looked like she had a police beatdown with ugly sticks. “Excuse me!” she said in the second most annoying voice I have ever heard. Now I know where that little turd got her screech from. “Did you call my daughter a bitch?” she asked, and not very politely I might add.

                Well if any of you know me, you know I don’t back down, no matter what the consequences, so I replied back at them. “Yeah! And you should shut up too you fucking used rag!” Now I admit, it wasn’t the most clever response in the world, but I was on the spot, you see. It worked though, you should have seen the look on her fucking face. I would have made you laugh so hard you would have shit your pants, honest. Full on, turd in the undies laughter.

                It took that bitch a few seconds to take in what I said, and that’s when I noticed the complete silence on the bus. The demon had stopped screeching her banshee wail and her audience also looked frozen in time. If I had known it was that easy I would have spoken up a while ago. The gasping look on her face made me think the mother was one of those “special people.” You know the kind, they spend half a day sucking applesauce through a straw and the second half smacking themselves and drooling all over their clean white “uniforms.”

                The mother stared me directly in the eye and spoke in a loud voice as she gained some composure back. “My daughter has every right to sing if she is happy. She doesn’t need you to bring her down you moron,” she retorted finally.

                “Fuck you,” I replied trying to sound pleasant as I said it in order to keep her precious demon child up high there on that emotional plateau.

                “Huh,” she puffed in a high and mighty tone and turned back around. “See honey, its bad people like that that make the streets unsafe for decent people like us,” she said loudly to her brat.

                The next few moments went by slowly, an eternity passed as my rage simmered just under the surface. I kept wishing that the next stop would rid me of the demon spawn and her delightful birth canal, but I had no such luck this day. The woman actually nodded off a few minutes later, I saw her head slump against the window. I couldn’t fucking believe it. That’s when that little demon decided to taunt me again.

                She turned in her seat and peeked over at me. I glared at the bitch trying to dissuade her from opening that cursed orifice again. “My momma says you’re a bad man,” she spewed accusingly.

                “Turn…the fuck…around…now,” I said, tired of the game we were playing.  She just stared at me and I patted the bulge in my jacket. I had been riding the bus for years with many similar situations as today. For those of you who haven’t seen me on the news, or haven’t heard of me, I won’t give up the surprise just yet.

                “Bad men like you make the streets unsafe,” the demonic parrot quoted. The nerve of that little shit. It as a test of my patience not to grab her and choke the shit out of her. I soon found myself day dreaming about smashing her dumb fragile face into the window next to her mother. I wondered what it would look like from the outside and began to chuckle at the thought.

“My momma said...” she started again bit I interrupted her.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” I yelled, barely keeping my voice down. The elderly couple an aisle over and one seat up looked back at me with shocked expressions. A glare from me made them turn around fast, but they kept peeking back over their shoulders.

“What the fuck are you looking at, you fossils!” I screamed at them, I screamed it loud enough that the driver glanced back in his mirror. That stupid bastard, I thought, has to put up with problem passengers like this twat and her mother every single day, what a shitty job.

I was getting looks from all around the bus, people must have heard me or wanted to see what the driver was so interested in, I don’t know, but I do remember thinking all these people are assholes, and someday they will all pay. I actually took comfort in that thought and the rage began to subside a little, just a little.               

I actually hated these people, the revelation filled me with a long awaited sense of elation. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt a tinge of happiness. The immense animosity I felt for my fellow humans couldn’t be measured. My rage went past rational thought and dug deep into a primal, natural hate. I don’t expect you to understand, most people wouldn’t.

“My momma says those are bad words,” the little screech owl of a girl said driving that voice into my head like a nail.

“You mom talks to fucking much, shut up,” I said.

“You’re a bad man,” she replied.

Now at this point I snapped. I grabbed her arm and began to twist. She opened her mouth, as if to scream, but I quickly covered the orifice before it could let loose its audible onslaught. Her mother was still asleep so I cranked on that fragile little arm one more time.

Just then the driver glanced into his mirror at me, when he saw what I was doing he locked on the brakes. The momentum sent the girl forward and her arm bent the wrong way in my grasp. The mother hit her head on the seat in front of her and woke up.

                “What the hell are you doing?” she screamed as she tried to pry my hand open. I heard the driver call out as he unbuckled his seatbelt. I knew trouble was coming. I let go of the demon’s arm and jumped out of my seat. The driver was blocking the aisle, and we faced each other not unlike the old west shootouts Hollywood wants us to believe happened.  Doesn’t anyone realize the girl was at fault and not me? Don’t they see it was the only way to shut her up?

                I raced towards the back of the bus left through an emergency exit. I could hear the shouts of the mother and driver as I ran down the street away from them and myself. I ran and ran, for nearly ten minutes. Forgotten was my job, my responsibilities, my life. I knew I would be fired for not showing up today, all because of that little brat on the bus. Bus 103. With a mother like that all she could hope to accomplish in life was to whore herself out a rich man so she didn’t have to charge for it on the corner. I saw red as thoughts of homicide began to crowd out more rational thoughts.

                I could only think of one thing. Murder, death, slaying. Killing that little girl. That would make it right. I could tell my boss that the girl was annoying as hell but he probably wouldn’t believe me. But if she drove me to killing her, then he would have to know it was the girls fault, right? That little bitch had cost me everything. She had in fact killed the man I was. She destroyed the life I had lived and thus brought me to the decision that I had to make.

Chapter 2

That night, as the plans began to form in my mind, I quickly pondered the grievous consequences of my imminent actions. The ending of all the problems commuting to work, or commuting anywhere.

One last time I would have to ride the bus, one last fucking time to put my plan into action. I remember smiling as I pieced together, what would become the only thing I had ever built that actually worked. I stayed awake until the sun broke over the horizon.

“Not today,” I said out loud as I mentally poured over the details of my plan. One more day. I had some last minute tangible items to pick up to ensure victory on what was to be my most gloriest of days. For once, I would come out on top, I would defeat the competition. I would be the one looking down on them! None of them would dare stand in my way, not that cunt and not her loudmouth mother. That night I slept better than I have ever slept before.

In the morning I rose from my slumber completely refreshed and in a better mood than I have ever been in. Just the mere thought of what I was going to do made me prematurely smile. I dressed, wearing what I had made the night before, strapping in for what I knew was going to be the best day of my life.

As I left my apartment, I tossed the key out into the street, knowing I would never return back here. The bulge in my left front pocket of my jeans poked into my legs uncomfortably, but it was a necessity.

I walked as I did every morning, towards the bus stop on Eighth Avenue. My face was clean shaven for once, sporting a new hairdo, and dressed in clothing alien to me. No one recognized me as I continued down the street.

I walked and smoked a cigarette, as I did every single day, until I heard the familiar sound of a diesel engine decelerating and coming to a stop just ahead. I approached the prison on wheels and kept my head down as I climbed into the bus and deposited my change. The driver didn’t seem to notice me as I made my way to the back of the bus. As I sat in my usual seat I mumbled, the last time. Today was Thursday, that bitch and her mother would be getting on at the next stop.

I checked the object in my pocket, to make sure it was still there. It was, everything was going well. I patted it and thought about how this was going to be one of my proudest moments. I calmly crossed my arms and nonchalantly glanced at the other passengers assessing the situation. Hatred filled my head as I recognized the elderly couple and remembered their look of disdain from the other day. A white hot rage burned for these commuters, the scourge of mankind. I loathed these people, almost as much as myself. The only reason I hated myself more was because I knew I was a commuter and I knew deep down inside I was like them. Maybe they were unaware of how wrong they are, maybe they can’t see what they do to me to make me hate them, yet I do the same things. 

I heard the engine slow as we approached our next stop. My heart began to race in anticipation of my plan. A broad smile crept across my face and I pulled down my hat to help conceal it. I saw them! I saw the woman and her brat get on the bus. I kept my head down but still watched as they sat in front of me once again, I must be a jackass magnet.

It didn’t take the bitch long to turn around and stare at me. I avoided her eyes, yet I knew somehow it wouldn’t be long before someone recognized me.

‘Hello mister,” the demon spoke cheerfully. The kind of sound that made me want to be violently sick, or maybe just violent.

I ignored her comment, even though my entire being wanted to lash out at the girl wearing a cast. A cast! Ha! I didn’t notice that when she got on the bus, I guess I twisted her arm a little harder than I thought. I had to bide my time, it was too early yet for the plan.

That incessant bitch wouldn’t leave me alone. She kept looking at me trying to see my face, peeking around the rim. “You’re the bad man,” she said with recognition in those soulless eyes. Her mother spun around in her seat. I was surprised to see something that large rotate so fast again.  Anger and recognition crossed her bulbous face.

In one fluid motion I stood and punched the beastly woman, which sent her backwards into the seat directly in front of her. The mini demon daughter of hers screamed. The bus driver looked in his mirror once again. I felt the bus jolt forward as he hit the brakes, but I was ready for it this time.

I reached into my pocket, placing my hand around the object inside and without hesitation I pulled the .45 out and fired a round into the drivers face as he got out of his seat. I grabbed another commuter and pushed him into the driver’s chair. “Drive!” I told him.

By now the mother had recovered from my attack earlier so I pistol whipped her. The initial shock had worn off and I could tell some of the passengers weren’t going to stand for it anymore. I knew I had to do something drastic to make them see I was serious.

The young, yet so evil child was crying over her mother, whimpering like a beaten dog. One of the other passengers rose to help the woman, but I shook my pistol at him. He quickly say back down and minded his own business.

I pulled off my jacket without taking my eyes off of the little bitch, which I had grabbed and help close to me, the sticks of dynamite digging into her fleshy cheeks. The mother stood, to object, but I shook my head as I placed my pistol behind her daughter’s ear.

 “One peep, one move, and the mini bitch bites it, understand?” I asked her. The bulbous woman nodded and sat down as tears started to form in her eyes.

“I am sorry, but you just moved,” I said as I squeezed the trigger of the .45. The demon spawns brains splattered all over her mother’s white cotton shirt staining her forever with the blood of her offspring.

“NOOO!” the mother cried out, tears streaming down her obese chin. I laughed loudly at her face. She dropped to the floor where he daughter’s blood was pooling. She covered her face in despair and I shot her for kicks.

At this time I realized that the bus had stopped and there were police surrounding my death wagon. I was surprised at the amount of law enforcement on the payroll of the city. I grabbed another commuter and pulled the elderly woman’s body close to mine as a shield. I expected a rain of bullets any second from the police outside.

Instead the elderly woman I grabbed gave me a low blow and I dropped the gun as I clutched my aching crotch. In an instant the police were on board the bus. There must have been a dozen of them pointing assault rifles at me. It was too late to go for my gun, I had no time, I reached for the dynamite.

A shot rang out in the silent stalemate between your humble narrator and the law enforcement involved. I felt an immense pain in my head. Pressure was building, ascending to another level of migraine. I saw spots and I began not only to lose consciousness but I lost the rage that had been building in me my whole life.

As I fell to the floor I managed to hit the button and the last thing I saw before everything turned to black was the look on the cops face as they realized what I had done. It was priceless. I tried to smile as the dynamite came alive.

I came to sometime later in a torturous place, on fire and afraid. Here a man came to see me and asked me my story. What will happen to me I will not know until I am done here with my story, but I know this story has to be told. Remember there are others like me out there. I may have worked alone, but others feel the way I do. Keep your goddamn kids in line and respect each other. Stop being assholes or more like me will have enough and act out. Consideration for each other isn’t really that hard, and your lives might depend on it.

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