They all deserve to die.
Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why.
Because in all of the whole human race
Mrs. Lovett, there are two kinds of men and only two
There's the one staying put in his proper place
And the one with his foot in the other one's face
Look at me, Mrs Lovett, look at you.
No, we all deserve to die
Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why.
Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief
For the rest of us death will be a relief
We all deserve to die.
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I was never to be caught it seemed. My hands ghosted over the bloody handle of the hammer, but I thought about the action and pulled it away.
I sat beside the ruined body of the twelve year old Mark Waters, and waited a few minuets for my head to stop buzzing. I studied the boy's bloody face and smashed skull; the crimson beads stained the hammer handle, and fell with a plop onto his immobile face.
The motel sheets were rumpled and stained from other peoples' rendezvous; there was a fading sperm stain beside Mark's bruised foot.
I stood and lazily pulled the hammer from his skull. My feet shuffled over the dirty shag carpet and to the bathroom where I kept a large bottle of sulfuric acid.
I placed the dirty hammer into the sink and began to dissolve the wooden handle. After that job was done, I picked up the remaining metal head and placed it carefully beside the body.
I gazed down at 'my work' with a small scowl on my mouth. There wasn't much to clean up; all I needed to do was scrape under his nails, clean out any remaining areas of the body I had touched, and so forth.
With a small pleased smirk, I looked down at the smooth pads of my fingers. I didn't have to wipe for any distinctive fingerprints or toe prints because they had been burned off long ago.
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I wrote this during Biology. Part two of "These Things", because that's one of my favorites that doesn't center around a coupling. :D
