Post by mommysboy on Feb 10, 2007 21:15:44 GMT -5
Jason Voorhees: A New Beginning
I kill people; I wear a hockey mask and carry a machete to boot. I’ve mostly killed stupid teenagers who like to have sex, but I have deviated from the norm, slashing, gutting and decapitating people of any social status and nationality, be it a poor, rich, black, white or Chinese. Boys and girls I do not discriminate.
I don’t talk much. But don’t mistake me for a mute. I do have a sense of humor. This one guy I killed by smashing his face against a tree, leaving an imprint of a smiley face. And I have a Myspace account. Well I am looking for some new talent and that explains the myspace account. Anyway, most people would not share my sense of humor, but I am just letting you know that I am not just some dumb, heavily disfigured, retarded redneck kid from some hokey pokey summer camp.
My hapless victims, however, very stupid people. These people are easily fooled and too easy to catch. For one thing they announce their presence with annoying screams as if they are rehearsing some bad horror flick. My career as a mass murderer has gotten so dull that it is as pointless as quail hunting.
Okay, I am not a hunter either. This is a revenge gig. Yet, sometimes I think I have overplayed the revenge sob story. I’ve gotten so lost in the killing that reasons are obsolete. But you do know why I kill stupid teenagers who like to have sex, don’t you? The fuckers let me drown that’s why. Besides, some bitch decapitated my mother. She’s dead by the way. And I mean the bitch.
Anyway, I have weighed on reasons for months now. I feel as if my murders are serving some higher mandate besides my mother. For instance, the FBI and the media have been attempting to track me down. I don’t even like stupid teenagers who like to have sex and smoke pot intrude on my summer camp home much less some noisy government official or some snot nose reporter. Because of media attention, filmmakers have exploited my life with lucrative ideas of filming a fictional account of my killing spree. The mandate is money.
My premature death denied my experience of adolescent life. When I cried for rebirth, I was still left in this sagging suit of a body, smelling of algae and water waste. My trachea collapsed so that is why I don’t talk; I let out the occasional grunt when my victims decide to run, making the chase a cat and mouse game. The last victim left is always a virgin and they usually get away. Yes I contradict myself. I kill stupid teenagers who like to have sex. Yet this is where I think I am resentful. I am about as barren as a ken Barbie doll.
So lately I have been thinking about putting down the machete and getting a death. I can’t get a life because I am already dead. And my mother is driving me crazy, always nag, nag, nag. I mean I love her and everything but damn. One thing I am trying to avoid is to be perceived as a mommy’s boy. Besides, that Norman Bates guy is one crazy son of a bitch.
