Murdering One Direction

Henry McDead

"Well, here it is," Louis was examining a way to get into Henry's house that would avoid using the front door. I, on the other hand, was doing something much more useful... Watching him try to find a way in while I sat by a conveniently, wide-open window. At this point I have to wonder how much of our success has been a mixture of dumb luck and divine intervention.

Louis' eyes widened in delight when he finally spotted the open window. "Hey, I found an open window. I'm a genius!" He shouted right into my gorgeous face. I just wanted to get in before Henry noticed that there were suspicious strangers hanging by his open window. Just as I was about to step in, I realized that there was a slight problem.

"Hey Louis, I just realized we haven't planned our course for killing him. what does he enjoy doing? I want to know the best way to take him down."

I figured Louis wouldn't be too happy that I hadn't thought this through yet... I was right. "So we are literally outside of his house ready to murder him, and you don't already have a plan?" He paused for a moment of emphasis, trying to give me the not-mad-but-disappointed look. After his efforts to guilt me yielded no fruit, he sighed and spoke again. "He likes to get tattoos for free from men in vans." That was oddly specific.

"Big, white rapist vans, or minivans?"

"Depends on how pedophilic the stranger looks; the more the merrier."

"Ok, then let's wait until morning in a big ole white van."

* * *

That next morning Louis and I prepared the suitably-placed, unlocked white van outside of Henry's house and waited for the right moment to strike. We made sure the van was as suspicious as possible. We got one of those vans where the back windows are completely covered so that there's no telling what was going on inside of the vehicle. On top of that, we even painted "FREE FACE TATTOOS" in bold, red letters on the side of the van. If what Louis said were true, there was no way Henry would be able to resist our charm.

 As soon as Henry exited his abode, Louis and I fell into position in the van with our gigantic, nasty handlebar mustaches, which hid our identities perfectly. Actually, I had a beautiful handle bar mustache, but I gave Louis a Hitler stache because I thought it would be hilarious. Which it was.

As Henry was passing our van, Louis hollered after him. "Hello sir, would you like a free face tattoo on your face?" Louis spoke in the most realistic Russian accent I've ever heard in my life. And I would know; I've dealt with a lot of Russians. "They're completely complementary as long as you get it while you are in the van."

Dazzled at the appealing concept of a free face tattoo on his face, Henry marched right into our van and sunk his cheeks into the lone chair we had set up in the back. "This won't hurt a bit," This time it was I with the Russian accent, which was painfully fake. You'd think after getting tortured by Russians for 6 months straight, I'd have been able to pick up on their accent. Oh, whoops. The government told me I'm not supposed to disclose that information. Eh, whatever. Anyway, I couldn't believe that Henry didn't pick up on the fact that this was a murder plot. Idiot.

Henry flashed us a toothy smile."Wow, your accents are so cool! Are you guys really from Antarctica?" 

"Suuure?" I managed to squeak out, but I quite honestly confused. In these last couple weeks, I had dealt with quite a few idiots, but I think this guy may have been the dumbest of them all. 

"Boy, this is sure to be a good tattoo." Seeing the eagerness of this poor, unsuspecting soul almost made me question my decision to murder him, especially since this particular murder was going to be egregiously gruesome. With that said, I took my tattoo engraver and gouged it through the right side of the head of the overly trusting Henry Mcfyles. I proceeded to thrash the weapon repeatedly through the innards of his brain until blood decanted from his skull like a bursting dam. I wrenched the engraver out of his skull and meticulously hacked through his abdomen, gutting him a prized tuna. With his intestines and other vital organs now on full display outside of his body, I tore open his chest cavity and yanked out his still-beating heart further discombobulating him. His face and body were now unrecognizable; Louis proceeded by snatching a hatchet and veraciously hacking each and every limb off of the poor souls body. He finished off by then snapping the neck and twisting the head off the already degenerated body of Henry McFyles.

We triumphantly stuffed the decapitated head and severed body parts into a garbage bag and dumped it into the river, which happened to be right next to the crime scene. Succeeding this horrific event, we drove the van into the river as well and hopped out just as it was speeding down the hill. That whole scene was pretty disgusting, not gonna lie. I usually prefer a clean kill, but this was simply the only way I could see us pulling off his murder. I guess we could've like tried killing him with kindness or something. Either way, it makes no difference. He is dead.

Louis and I didn't say a word to each other for a solid ten minutes. We reverently sat at the riverbed pondering upon the deed we had just done. Louis broke the silence. "Dude, I don't think I'll ever be the same." 

"You get used to it," was all I could mutter. That scene had probably been the nastiest thing I've seen all week – aside from Louis' bedhead. We don't sleep together, just to be clear. But I have been crashing at his place since I got here because hotel rates are ridiculous and I ain't gonna spend any unnecessary cash. Plus his guest room has a sweet mini-fridge.

With that, we frisked through a stunning field full of blossoms and rainbows while pixy unicorns swayed with us and played patty cake. Uh, I'm pretty sure that didn't happen, but that's how Louis described it when we arrived back at the coffee shop. I had completely forgotten everything that happened since the murder. I had just zoned out.

As he rambled on about his love for his dollies and cosmic narwhals, I looked out the window to distract myself from Louis' antics and noticed the news channel in the TV store was showing that Zayne from One Direction had gone missing. Man, I really need to learn how to spell that kid's name.

"Louis, are you sure that the guy we killed was Henry?" I asked. I was particularly concerned because I have a secret system filled with incredibly complex algorithms and patterns for killing and avoiding any undesired consequences. If the man we had killed was Zaan and not Henry, that would pretty much ruin everything.

"Oh no, we definitely killed Zane. I just made up that Henry crap because you don't have the same bff feelings for me like I had for you, you whore."

"Louis you idiot! Do you realize what this means?"

"No, what?"

"Oh, you're gonna find out." I muttered. "The hard way..."

No homo.