StabStream.com

Diary Entry 2

Sunday

I have a best friend named Desdemona. Her real name is Sally Elizabeth Holiday, but she gets really bent out of shape when people call her that. I would to if I had a name as disgusting as that.

She's a StabStreamer, just like me. The only difference is that she already has tons of subscribers on her channel, about four thousand the last time I checked, and I have only one, which is her and therefore doesn't really count.

Desdemona started making videos about two years ago. She posts videos twice every week, but it's not about infiltrating high school parties to kill teenagers bathed in each other's saliva. Unlike me, she doesn't kill. She could if she wanted to, I know she can, but she doesn't. Sometimes I try to make her drunk and drag her along into one of my murder escapades, but she's more defiant than a whiny toddler at a toy store.

Her videos are mostly focused on sculpting slasher killer masks made from papier-mâché. Sometimes, if she's struck with creative inspiration, she locks herself in her basement all day long and engages in torture-porn. She likes to kidnap sexually abusive old men and carve all sorts of shit on their bodies. One time, she carved Van Gogh's Starry Night into a guy who cat-called her in the street.

When she's done, she just lets them go free as a bird. She's perfected this sort of method where she leaves her victims so traumatized that they don't ever remember what happened.

Anyway, I was in Desdemona's room today, asking her for her thoughts on my video. Her room is a wild, barbaric mix of unwashed paintbrushes and bottles of acrylic paint on the floor, cracked makeup powders, several retro horror movie posters barely pinned on the wall, and a large pile of newspapers on the corner that seem to get bigger and bigger each time I see it.

Desdemona told me that it was "alright" for my first video, which didn't exactly raise my self-confidence. She said that if I was gonna do a top five list on murder weapons, I should have at least made an effort to record myself actually using the weapon instead of just standing in front of the camera. But I couldn't really execute that kind of level of production yet because I'm just a one-man team.

Then Desdemona said that she liked how I designed my background and asked if she could use my basement to shoot her mask-making videos. I rejected her without a second thought, because if know one thing about her, is that she is a complete and utter slob, and I don't want my basement to be ruined for something she's just gonna throw away two weeks later.

I guess even she acknowledges her skanky ass, because she didn't argue about it any further and just changed the subject into whether I was gonna go to Britney's party this weekend.

I told her I wasn't really in the mood to kill anyone right now, but she said it wasn't about that. Rather, it was about graduating from my virginity.

Of course she was going to insert that into the conversation again. My nonexistent sex life had been a sore subject between the two of us ever since we got into this long discussion about how nobody seems to realize that Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers still have virgin dicks, which, when you think about it, does shed a bad light into their reputation.

Desdemona is always saying that she'd personally be embarrassed to tell that half of her kills are horny teenagers, but she herself still hasn't even had a dick in her mouth. For the record, it's not that I'm specifically targeting hormone-driven teenagers, and it's also definitely not because I'm trying to make a statement about condemning premarital sex or any of that. It's just that they're so fucking easy to kill that it almost takes no effort at all. But I always did wonder how anyone could get sexually aroused in what otherwise be considered creepy places. I mean, if I were to choose between getting some action in a fancy hotel room or in an old, abandoned cabin, it would be no contest.

"Girl, you know how badly I want to taste a dick, but there's barely any gay guys at school who actually has topping in their options. And the only few bi guys at school already have girlfriends," I told Desdemona.

Then she said to me, "Are you forgetting about David? The guy who's been flirting with you for three weeks now?"

Ugh, David Morris. Stripped of his title as vice-captain of the Woodbridge Buffaloes football team and he's just your average teenager with a raging libido. I always thought he was straight, but now his sexual preference is ambiguous to me. I'm surprised he still hasn't been disemboweled in one of his sexcapades yet. I'm pretty sure he's had car sex in the middle of nowhere at least four times now.

Anyway, David's been coming up to my locker for the past three weeks, making 'irresistible' offers to take me out to dinner. If that's what he calls flirting, then that's what I call going up to the whiteboard and spelling out YOU HAVE NO FUTURE WITH ME in bold, black, permanent ink.

"I don't know, he looks like the type of guy who puts his thing in practically anywhere that has a hole in it. I might catch something," I said.

Desdemona attempted to convince me by saying that she doesn't think he's that much of an idiot to not know what a condom is. I raised an eyebrow at her and she seemed to have realized how stupid she sounded as well.

She told me to just bring a set of my own before urging me to come to the party again. Well, I guess it could be fun. I can't remember the last time I've been to a party as an actual normal teenager without a mask on my face and a meat cleaver in my hand.