Something filthy about Mr.Haynes

The least bit of fun or massacre in Louisiana

Chad's POV

"Slip. Slip. Slip,"-i taunt to myself walking empty streets of Shreveport. The devil himself offered me to come and play, it seems. "Where is everyone?"

Come home, we're worried,-i read the text from Sam. Why are you doddging my calls?

Because I don't want to see you right now. And because i'm about to storm the gates of hell.

"Oh i'm fine!"-i text him back. "I'll come back soon. Have some important business to do."

I turn off the location app and watch at the screen for a moment.

Wrong place. Wrong mood I guess.

And another text- don't do anything stupid.

Of course I won't.

I turn off the phone and put it back into my pocket. Not the time for chatting, really.

I gaze at the sky. There's no stars seen any longer, for the first rays of raising sun crawls above the Red River and paints everything in miserable pink.

My stomach churns with pain and I get visibly angrier. My brother was right all along- I can't control the blood lust any more and I didn't feed on human food for a while already.

I remember how sick I got after the pizza with Paul the other night.

The hunger is quite defeating, but I'd rather starve than try another peace of damn meal.

"Now, where do I find human buffet open for 24/7 in Luisiana?" I check my golden wrist watch while passing through the cotton field. "Or the one which is open at 4:30 in the morning?"

I light a cigarette and head forth. I'm not sure if my conception on 'slipping away' has anything to do with my current state of mind, but hell- I have a right to go a little bit nuts ever so often.

Usually after those little opportunities of free mind that I grant myself leads me to a point where I no longer consent of what I do. So this can mean just one thing only- it's the right way to slip.

I check my shoes. Dirty. Dusty. And not matching my west. Obviously.

I grip my waist. My shiny gun, my precious Colt stuffed with eight bullets and the silencer is in the right place, leather holster.

And my knife?

Well... my little bloody companion tugged tightly in a pocket of my jacket.

I sit on the railings on St. Vincent Avenue to catch my breath, watching at the endless sea of cemetery tombstones.

Everything is fucked up it seem. Serene escaped me and now I don't know how to live with myself. Where is this leading to?

I gaze in front, noticing a movement across the park. Seem like a nice place to crash.

I jump off of the railings and head towards the little light bulb blinking upon the red door.

Trying to shorten my journey, I step on the tombstone. And then on another, my footsteps trimming against cracked stones, counting disrespectful manners in my mind.

Yes, i'm wrong. I'm evil. And i'm too damn satisfied with myself.

"So where do I eat, damnit?"-i curse, when another painful spasm rolls down my stomach.

Deciding to go full way into massacre I mentally erase all other of my thoughts except for one- slip.

That's what i'm doing, Duke, son of a...

"Motherfucker!"-i grit my teeth when a sign of 'invitations only' drifts in front above the mysterious red door, leading to the night club.

"Is this breakfast, you guys?-i ask the security guarding the entrance. I sigh and stop in front of them, freezing in my tracks.

Two security gorillas eye me like I owe them something and seem not to be interested at all.

Too bad.

"This is a night club",-one of them declares, while the other one is watching me suspiciously. "Didn't you see the sign? We don't serve breakfast here."

"Well...you could've had more clients if you did."

"Enough, smartass. Go sober. There's nothing interesting for you here."

"Aren't you even having the least bit of fun?"-i tease with a smirk.

"This is a decent place. Besides, it's a private party tonight, clearly you came the wrong address."

"How come?"-i smile. "I'm sober, i'm rich and charming, am I not? It's the right place for me to chill."

"You are not welcome here, unless you have an invitation! Step away from the door."

"No can do. I want to play!"-i smile again, for this is really getting interesting. I sit on the hood of a car standing by the entrance, while security guards are getting more and more frustrated each second.

"Play what?"-the taller one asks.

"Whatever game you play!"-i state and light a cigarette. "Don't know- cat and mouse? Ripper and the prey? Oh wait, I know- we can play the guessing game. Who is the one stuffed with steroids missing a pulse but bleeding like a bitch?"

"Nonsense. Go sober, funny man."

"Let the man finish the joke, Pete. I want to know!"

I throw the cigarette end away and stand up with cold face. "Two security guards at the private party door."

And with this I yank forward in supernatural speed, my senses on overdrive, as my right hand tangles around the neck of the taller guard, snapping it in one swift and accurate move, while the other one snatch at the chest and rips away the heart of Pete, the not so curious one. Bleeding and still beating.

I throw his heart fiercely at the front glass of a car. "Told you- bleeds like a bitch, funny man!"

I leave my crime scene and snap the door open and enter the corridor. Noticing two gorillas more makes me think for a second.

I might as well ask them nicely to let me in. No more pets should be harmed.

And I slap the door with my foot before they notice dead guards laying peacefully in the swamp of blood.

"Sir, let me see your invitation."

"Ah too bad, I don't have it, your friends said I don't need one."

"They nuts?"-one of them hiss and steps towards the exit. "I'm gonna go check what's wrong with those two."

"Sorry, I gave them few coins and they ran down the street after the candy bus."

Both guards sends me the same look. Blaming one, filled with disgust. "I'm gonna ask you to leave, mister. It's a private party. Clearly you don't belong here."

"Don't belong?"-now I hiss nervously. "Why does everyone think I don't belong anywhere? Cute. You got me. And I already thought we could become friends."

"That's it. Step aside, pal. I have a license to use the shocker, you better don't tempt me."

This funny statement softens me a bit. "Well then shove it up your ass, pal. Because I have a license to kill."

And of course- they both burst laughing.

"That's impolite, people. Walking a fine line now there, mate! Wrong move i'd say."

"That's it. I'm calling the cops. I've told you- it's a private party. Show me your invitation and you can step in."

"Enough!"-i growl, for i'm getting bored already, and as my eyes suddenly gets lined up with pure black venom, I lick my lips and with full power crash them at the door. "I'm sooo gonna regret this."