ZOOMANIA

By Luke Johnson

The question is not, "Can they reason?" nor, "Can they talk?" but rather, "Can they suffer?"
-Jeremy Bentham

1

It was a breezy fall day when I saw it. The first animal I can ever recall laying my eyes on. Ever since then, animals became my life; they mattered more to me than even my own family. I couldn't bear to go through one day without seeing at least one animal. Insects, four-legged animals, birds, reptiles, fur-covered animals, I loved them all. When I was six, I wanted nothing more than books about animals, except a pet of my own; my mother's allergies made that impossible.

Animals, animals, and animals was all I thought about, and it still is. My parents, sadly, weren't like me. My mother worked at a company that designed fur coats from actual animal fur. My dad worked at a meat-processing plant, and enjoyed hunting for sport in his pastime, the creep. It was not until many later years that I finally realized how despicable my parents' careers were. They were dear to me, yet I was stunned when I truly realized the magnitude of the effects of their careers. My life was, overall, quite enjoyable except for the fact that my parents killed animals for a living. There was one day in my life, however, that altered everything; my life changed for the better on that day. Nothing makes me happier now than teaching a lesson to those brainless idiots that possess so few cares for another animal's life. My name is Matthew Sheller, and this is my life's story.

I was using the computer one day, when I had the urge to search for images concerning how humans treated other animals. I waited for a while until some images finally came up. I was horrified beyond rational thought at what I saw: dogs and puppies slaughtered for meat, elephants slaughtered for their tusks, precious seals being hacked to death, image after image of incomprehensible torture placed upon animals. I couldn't look away, and I was so furious I felt like punching the miserable computer screen or screaming until my mouth would bleed. I made a vow to avenge their lives from that day forward in every way possible. I headed downstairs, heeding the call of my dad.

2

My dad was in the garage. When I finally arrived he said, "Son, it's time I showed you how your old man hunts. You're fifteen now. That's the perfect age to start learning." I was stunned, because, of all people, my father had the nerve to tell me this crap. "Dad, I'm not going to be a hunter, and that's it." I said. "Son, I know you love animals, but we have power over them to do what we want with them, be it skinning or shooting. Speaking of which, the first thing I'm going to teach you is how to skin a fox." Dad took off a sheet that was on the table beside him and revealed a horrific spectacle: a red fox's corpse was lying on the table. The blood made the fox look very red. "Son, the perfect way to skin a fox starts with vertically cutting the chest. Afterwards, you can use the knife blade to loosen the skin surrounding the chest and then you gently peel… what's wrong, son?" I can't describe my loathing towards my father at that moment, and never will be able to do so.

"Dad, put the knife down." I said. "Come on, son, you can do it. You're just like your old man." he said as he handed me the hunting knife. "You and I are not alike in any way, so forget it." I said. "Son, do it and forget about it, it's not a problem." I couldn't contain my fury any longer. "YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!" I shrieked. My dad tried to speak, but he couldn't; then again, he had a hunting knife sticking out of his throat.

My father's corpse descended to the garage floor. I felt like a god. I had finally taken a stand. I knew my destiny. I was worried, however, about the discovery of the body, so I stashed it in the trunk of my Mom's Porsche. The Porsche was a lively scarlet, perfect for concealing the blood of a cadaver. I went back in the house and heated up some cheese pizza to calm my nerves. I decided to watch my favorite TV channel, Animal Planet, until my Mom got back home. My Mom! It suddenly occurred to me that my Mom would question my Dad's disappearance, since he stayed home on weekends and she worked on weekends. I had to think of a plan quickly, before she got home. She arrived home shortly after my plan was complete. She turned the knob and opened the door, and then she called out "Matthew, honey, come and see what I brought for you." She had taken no more than five steps into the house when her heel was crushed by a meticulously-placed bear trap; how it came to be there, I'll never know. "Hello, Mom." I said as I opened my gift. I was not pleased, as the gift was a coat made from a wolf pelt. I turned towards her and said "You are so clueless about your job. I'm going to make you get a clue." Horrified, she shrieked "Matthew, no, what are you doing?" I replied "I'm taking my beliefs to the cutting edge." I stabbed her in the chest with my dad's hunting knife, then once in both legs, then four times in the back. I must have stabbed her fifteen times altogether. She was little more than a pile of red flesh when I finished with her. To finish the job, I strangled her with the wolf pelt coat she had brought for me.

I was overjoyed, even after I had stuffed her body in the refrigerator. I cleaned up the blood with a paper towel, and made sure they weren't visible in the trash can. I needed an ice cream sandwich to cool down my nerves. It was not long before I realized that with my Mom and Dad gone, I would have to think about what I was going to do with my life. My teachers would wonder what happened to me if I simply disappeared. I couldn't risk that much attention, so I decided to arrange a situation that would explain my sudden absence. It was the next step on my path of retribution.

3

My school, Oakton High School, was pretty normal, especially on Monday mornings. All of my grades were noteworthy, and I had attended this school all my life. Now, however, I had no choice but to resign from it. I headed towards the office of Principal Davis, and immediately told him I was dropping out of school. The principal was shocked because he considered me to be one of the best students in the school. I told him my mind was made up, but he wouldn't take "no" for an answer. He left me no choice, so I knocked him out with a firm punch to the face, and he collapsed onto his desk. I walked out of the room and out of the school, forever. The school secretary, Mrs. Myers, didn't even ask me what had happened in the principals' office.

I began walking along the left side of the black road, heading towards a new life. I imagined where I would go. I though that China might be good place to start, seeing how "loving" they are towards animals. I decided that any third-world country would do, as long as my desires were satisfied. The breeze felt wonderful against my face as I ambled along the stretch of road. I could see the scarlet and yellow leaves descending from the branches like skydivers from a cliff. I remembered how I used to enjoy these kinds of days with my parents, but dismissed the notion after I remembered they were long gone. My happiness was about to be interrupted when I was least expecting it.

I was soon walking past two buildings that had an alleyway between them. I would have walked on by if I hadn't heard what sounded like a group of boys laughing; I decided to investigate. I walked towards the alleyway's end, than made a right turn around the corner. I saw three teenage boys kicking what appeared to be a wooden log; I looked closer to see that it was actually the corpse of a stray dog. I was mortified, and, thus, I shouted out "Hey, you three! What in the name of God are you doing over there?" It was a few seconds before one of them answered "What do you frickin' care? Mind your own frickin' beeswax!" he said. Another one of the boys then said "If you really want to know, we're having fun with this stray dog. All we had to do was make it trust us, then we smashed it with a trash can lid before it could get away. It's awesome, huh?" he said. I was beyond loathing them at that point. Next thing I knew, I rushed in, screaming bloody murder at them. I unsheathed my knife, which I had taken from home, and stabbed one of them in the chest, and blood poured from the wound. Another one of them tried to punch me, but I blocked it and sent my knife deep into his ear. The last boy tried to run but I tackled him to the ground and stabbed him in the shoulder. I then took the trash can lid that had been used so dreadfully and struck the boy's head with it once, twice, again and again, until his head was scarlet oatmeal. Justice had been done, but I had to dispose of the bodies somehow.

I managed to dismember them all without anyone noticing, and then stuffed the body parts in a trash can. I then laid the coat of one of the boys over the corpse of the dog. As far as I know, their bodies have yet to be found.

4

I was feeling quite anxious, as hard as that may be for you to believe. I entered a coffee shop and purchased a turkey sandwich. The money I used was from my mom's wallet. I saw others sitting around me: a teenage girl wearing blue jeans and a purple t-shirt, a mother and her baby, and a middle aged man wearing a shirt beneath blue overalls and a cap. I was feeling more relaxed than I had been in days. Suddenly, I noticed that a truck was outside; it looked exactly like the truck that the dog pound used. I knew what I was going to do.

It was difficult to keep up with the van, going as fast as it was. I managed to keep pace until the people in the car had spotted a stray dog; my chance was here! I hid on the left side of the van until the back doors were opened from the inside.

After I made sure that no one was looking, I sprang into action! I tackled the man, the one who had opened the back doors, to the van floor. The driver heard the commotion and came back to investigate. I punched both of them in the face before I spotted a jar of euthanizing chemicals and a jar of syringes. I quickly loaded two syringes and stabbed it into both of their throats; the chemicals finished the work. I slowly opened the back doors to make sure that no one was around. Not a soul was in sight, so I quickly closed the back doors in a subtle fashion and went on my way. Those two have probably been found by now. I kept an extra syringe- just in case.

I had decided that the only way to travel quickly, at this point, was to hitchhike. I headed out of the city and attempted to hitch a ride. Five people passed me by before I got a ride. A teenage boy and his girlfriend were in the car. I asked them where they were headed. They said they were going to a town that was nearly eleven miles ahead for a rock concert. This was just what I needed. I climbed into the van, and it began to travel into the distance, away from Oakton- forever.

I soon began a discussion with the two passengers. The girl was named Jenna, and the boy was named Mike. The two of them had just graduated from college, and were heading out to celebrate. Jenna intended to be a fashion designer, and Mike wanted to be a veterinarian. "What do you enjoy doing as a pastime?" I asked them. Jenna said she worked as an assistant at the local veterinary clinic, and said that she felt awful when she had to euthanize sick animals. Mike said he enjoyed deer hunting. They noticed I had turned very red in the face. This was no surprise, as I was furious at these two because, just when I had gotten to know them, I discovered they were killers like all the rest. "It's a shame, what I have to do now." I said. The two of them didn't understand what I meant by that, but they soon found out. I slid my hand around the passenger's seat and slit Jenna's throat with my hunting knife. Brad was horrified at the sight, so I pulled him downward so no one would see, and then I stabbed him twice in the side of his head. I placed their bodies on the floor of the car's middle section, safe from view. I took the wheel and continued on my way.

I enjoyed the view as I drove onward towards a luminous future. The multicolored leaves were plummeting from the trees like mad. I drove for many miles until I reached a town called Hampton.