Watching the unthinking animals walking around me, I couldn't comprehend how they lived their empty lives. They all seemed like corpses dressed in designer clothes. It seemed like that was the only thing they did ever think about, if they did think. Their appearance.
And it was obvious that there was something that they really did care about ; the appearance of others. They ridiculed those around them for being different or non-fashionable. People like me were usually those that took the weight of their comments and laughter. Those superficial fucks.
Of course, I knew that my clothing choices where far from normal. I understood that I was different, much different from any of them in that particular aspect. That, and the fact that I was skinny as a twig and had a quite unusual hairstyle. Comprehension of my difference from them was within my grasp.
Yet still, even though I knew it would come, I hated when they commented. I despised their laughter, hollow sounds coming from orifices lined with perfect teeth. Their stares, filled with primal hatred for my apparently obscene act of will, burned into my skin, causing my own blood to boil with my own resentment. Yes, I was different. That was obvious, painfully so. But still, I had always hoped that there would be one person in this world that didn't comment on my looks. My hopes fell and broke like glass upon an unrelenting sidewalk.
I walked through the crowded mini mall, through the throngs of people and their tiny minds set only on trying to look or be better than those around them. To them, I would look like nothing more than a stepping stool to that petty ascension, with my black clothes, steel tipped boots, strange haircut and slim frame.
People turned to their "friends" when I passed, whispering that I looked like some freak that escaped from the circus or some other typical shit like that. I slid my hand into the pocket of my long coat, feeling the rubber handle of my blade. I wondered how difficult it would be to gossip when their arterial blood was gushing freely from their throat.
That was really the only reason for my being there. I hated crowded areas, mainly for the fact that there were people there. I never liked people. They gave me every reason to dislike them. The knife wasn't alone in the recesses of my coat pocket. Many other weapons and tools designed for bodily harm were stashed in my jacket, ready and eager for the job at hand. I had needed an outing, I guess.
"Hey, Halloween's over, freak!" I looked around. A table loaded with laughing college jocks sat laughing their dumb asses, easily amused by the commenter's joke. "Yeah, and hit the weights, fag!" another yelled. Again, laughter erupted from the group. In another table, a group of what looked like cheerleaders laughed along, finding the satire of my person quite funny.
I turned to them, a light smile on my lips. My grip on the blades handle tightening with my coming excitement. "Well Nny, looks like you've found your starting point." I muttered. "Excuse me? Where you talking to me? I couldn't tell." I called out to the group. Oh, yes, this was going to be fun. Finding my own form of amusement was just as easy as theirs.
Fin
Amusement