Daringly Decapitating Dexter

Miami's Favourite Butcher?

It had been a few weeks since my last moonlight play date and slowly, the pressure had been rising. The need had been calling to me again and though I had tried to suppress it with work, with the smell of Rita's kitchen and with bowling, it was rising and rising and I felt the little signs begin to set in. I was snapping more readily and I kept fantasying about killing my colleges, so I'd concluded it was about time for another extracurricular social call. It was time for the Dark Passenger to get in the driving seat and for Daringly Decapitating Dexter to find a new playmate. This Guy, Dean Barnes, he was like me, a butcher, but unlike me his victims were innocent. I'd come across him recently when he'd been involved in a petty misdemeanour, a bar fight, he'd been fined and given a suspended sentence, but his darkness ran far deeper than that. After I'd seen his occupation, I'd decided to look more closely into Mr. Barnes. It turned out he had a little butcher's shop in Palm Beach, not far from one of my regular sailing routes, so I thought I'd pay Dean a visit.

 I entered his shop to be met with a familiar sight, a man holding a clever and dressed in a blood-covered apron. It was almost like I was looking in a mirror. Apart from the mess, the untidiness. I could never do what he does, no, not just because I have standards, but because I'm a very neat monster and I detest mess and this man, standing, wallowing in the mess he created, irked me and I found it harder than usual to adjust my mask, but I managed it and greeted him with a smile and an outstretched hand. "Dean Barnes?" "Yeah, who are you?" "David Cutler. It's a pleasure to meet you. I wondered if you might have a job going?" Dean looked at me up and down "Ever worked in a butcher's before?" He asked. "I grew up on a farm", I lied. "Alright, buddy, you show me you can hack it, and we'll see about a job." I smiled and nodded. I'd definitely hack it, I thought. Dean led me through to the back room, it was coated in blood and the stench was overpowering. Mess, there was something deep in my psyche that yearned for neatness, for order and yet I stood in a room caked in blood, caked in mess. And yet, this was perfect, usually I would leave any room I worked in spotless, but there was so much blood here that any additional blood would be impossible to discern. Dean opened a door to the outside and chased a squealing pig into the room of death. "I was going to do this one myself, but you can do it, show me that you know what you're doing." Dean kicked the pig a couple of times before handing me an axe and standing back, "Go ahead". Usually I wouldn't do it like this, I'm a very neat monster and I have my rituals. Everything must be ordered, separated into steps which must be carried out properly. I'm not the sort of butcher than Dean is, but on this occasion, I allowed myself or should I say the Dark Passenger some time to play outside the rules, some time to be free of the strict rules placed upon it, a chance to embrace the swirling chaos and darkness. To revel in it. To be tamed no longer. My brother would be proud of me. "What you waiting for man, you scared or something?" Asked Dean. "Nothing" I replied and brought the axe down on Dean, slicing into his flesh. I severed his carotid artery, causing arterial spurting, long sprays of blood impacted the walls at an approximately 90 degree directionality. Dean collapsed into his own kill room, appropriate given how many lives he'd claimed here. "What the fuck!? You're a fucking psycho, you won't get aw..." I was already bored of Dean' attempts of engaging me in conversation so brought the axe down on him again. To be sure, I brought it down for a third and final time, ensuring I struck his jugular vein. Dean's body laid in the very filth he had made his life and I used the axe to chop the rest of him up, before wrapping him in six neatly packed hefties and loading them onto my boat. I wiped my fingerprints off the axe, before placing it back in its place and opened the door, releasing the terrified pig, who ran out of the shop and into a nearby field. She'd be safe there until my anonymous call to a nearby sanctuary came through. I climbed back onto my boat and set sail for the Keys, Cody's boat club was today and I didn't want to let him down, as whilst it has long been a funerary transport, a tool of my dark trade, the Slice of Life also made for an excellent pleasure cruiser. I looked at the little butcher's shop as I sailed towards the Gulf Stream, my playmate coming along for the ride. All in all, it was a successful night, one less amateur butcher plaguing Miami.