• The light swung in a slow, repetitive motion. The room of concrete had a large two-way mirror so that superiors could watch the interrogation. The room smelled of vomit, most likely from the previous convict whom occupied the room, a drunk hooker that passed John on the way into the interrogation room. John was a young man in his twenty’s with short blond hair, and dark blue eyes. John also had a scar running half way up his nose and a tattoo of a silver dagger with a bronze hilt and a single drop of blood dripping off the tip of the blade on his forearm.
    After waiting for three hours the detective in charge came in and sat down across from the old steel table. The detective was wearing a long, black trench coat unbuttoned to reveal a dark blue shirt and a red and orange striped tie with a small tear at the end. He had dark brown hair almost black and bright green eyes that had a stare cold as ice and felt like daggers piercing your soul.
    "So, John, why did you do it? Is that what your about to ask, detective James Smitt?"
    "So you know who I am, but I know little about you, John Buler. Orphan at the age of 14, current age 27, no priors, grew up in Broomfield, Colorado, now residing in Little Rock, Arkansas, own a chain of butcher shops there, don't you?"
    "Hm."
    "Why don't you tell me why you did it, while we're on the subject."
    "I was an only child, no brothers, no sisters, not even a mother. It was just my father and I. He was a drunk and nothing but scum. His job? He was a dealer, mostly cocaine, once in a while acid or heroin, but mostly coke. That may be why, why I turned out this way."
    "That's nice and all, touching story by the way, but, that doesn’t answer the question. Why did you do it?"
    "Well, I guess it's because. It was fun."
    "Son of a b***h it was fun!"
    "You leave my Mother out of this!"
    "What’s the matter John, did I strike a nerve"
    John and detective Smitt stared at each other intently, as if trying to guess their opponent's next move. After about two minutes, detective Smitt gathered his papers and began to leave, as he left he muttered the words
    "You can rot in hell, cause we're going after the death penalty."
    "Oh detective!"
    John said in a loud giddy voice. Detective Smitt halted at the door.
    "What?"
    "Don't you want to know, how I did it, I mean, it's an interesting story."
    "No. Tell your cell-mate."
    "Okay, okay, I'll tell you, I'll start at the beginning, and when I come to the end, I'll stop."
    At the age of 2 a drug dealer who his father owed money killed John’s mother. She was a beautiful young woman, she had long blond hair that reached down past her shoulder blades, Bright blue eyes that seemed to glisten in the sun light, and always wore a red silky ribbon in her hair, John used to love pulling at it and watching his mom try to tie it back in. When she died his father took it out on John. John was abused, beaten by his drunken father. When John was 7 he had an asthma attack and, his father became angry with him for being so weak as to have asthma,
    "Got it from your mother" he said as he rose off the couch and walked into the kitchen, he came back out with his hand behind his back
    "Let me see." said his father. John tipped his face up to look at his father as he gasped for breath, his father then, with a quick motion sliced John's nose open with a kitchen knife he had concealed behind his back. When John had turned the age of 14 he had just been beaten by his father, slowly standing with his black eye, broken arm, and bloody mouth he walked into his fathers room where his father lie sleeping with a beer can in one hand and a pill bottle in the other. John could not read the label on the bottle, but he knew that it is what caused the rage that caused his father to beat him. John walked as quietly as possible to the closet where the safe was. He knew that his dad had a gun in the safe and had tried for 14 days to figure out the combination but today, before he was beaten he found a piece of paper with a set of numbers written on it. He crept over to the safe and slowly turned the dial, 03 27 42. With the last turn he heard a clunk from inside the safe, nervously John turned the handle and to his relief the 1 by 2 feet metal door swung open. John could not see a gun however; all that was in the safe were bags of white powder and large stacks of money. After searching the safe for 12 minutes John decided to give up on the gun, for he had remembered that his father had told him never to touch this powder
    “I’ll kill you if you ever lay a hand on my drugs!" he once told John. So John wondered why it was so important to him. The bags smelled horrible, like a rotten egg that had been puked on. Then he thought, "If he likes it so much, why not give it to him?" John took one of the bags and closed the safe, he then went to the kitchen and took out a beer from the fridge, he opened it and took a sip then spat it onto the ground "This is what he likes?" exclaimed John he then cut open the bag of powder and poured most of the bag in to the can, then he threw the rest in the trash can at the end of the counter. His father walked into the room and saw him holding a beer can, he lost it, went into another rage and charged John. John sidestepped his father and tripped him into the counter top. After rising from his fall he turned, and John saw a knife in his hand and backed up until he had his back to the wall. John’s father walked slowly to the end of the counter and picked up the beer can and chugged the whole can, then he charged at John knife raised, John ducked at the last moment as the knife thrust into the drywall and wood. John turned and laid on the floor frozen in fear just staring at his father, and then he noticed his father wasn't moving. John slowly got to his feet and noticed he had twisted his ankle, he limped past his father and out the front door, across the street to the house next door and collapsed on there porch.
    John woke up to the sound of sirens and pouring rain. John sat up and realized that he was in an ambulance, with his arm wrapped in gauss. He looked up and saw police tape all over his house and policemen all over the yard and street.
    "Are you okay?"
    John turned and saw a young paramedic with long blond hair and a worried look on her face, she may have had a smile, but her bright blue eyes portrayed sympathy and sorrow.
    “I, I'm fine. What’s happening?”
    “The woman whose porch you collapsed on called the police.”
    “Mrs. Hughes?”
    “Yes.”
    “And my house?”
    "Um, I think it's best you get some rest."
    She then went over to the front of the ambulance to check something and John lay back down and closed his eyes. Two officers walked up next to him
    "This the kid?"
    "Yea."
    "Looks unconscious."
    John was fully conscious and didn't want to move because he wanted to hear what the men had to say,
    "Yea, he does. Dad's dead inside"
    Upon hearing that his father was dead, something happened inside him, he lost all emotion and feelings, he could not cry, nor feel joy over the death of his father.
    "Looks like a drug over dose."
    John felt satisfaction once he heard that his father had died of an over dose, his plan had worked. His father was dead and it was because of him. Since his father was a convicted dealer John would be considered a victim and not a murderer.
    "Now that you know how I killed my father, would you like to hear how I killed my other victims? One of them was by complete accident, he just happened to show up at the wrong place at the wrong time, so I killed him!"
    “Before you do, I need your signature on something.”
    “What is it?”
    “It’s a Waiver of your Miranda Rights.”
    “I’ll Sign. On one condition.”
    “And what’s that?”
    “You have to keep your promise.”
    “What promise?”
    “Oh, you know. The one where you give me the death penalty.”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it.”
    John was placed in an orphanage and three years later he had already graduated high school, at the age of 17, and by 19 he had an associates degree and was majoring in Business. At the age of 21, he claimed his second and third victims.
    He was working at one of his butcher shops that he had started just a year earlier, Maria came in to see how my shop was doing, Maria was a small Mexican woman with long black hair and beautiful brown eyes, she had a small beauty mark just below her right eye, she was a friend John had met at college, one year older than him she acted as his mentor for the first year of college until he began to learn faster than she could teach, and about things she knew nothing about. John's shop was a great shop with flower fixtures on the windows, an archway with Greek style columns, a glass display case showing all of his meats and cheeses, he had honey baked ham, pastrami, corned beef, hamburger, lamb, chicken, turkey, and even a few fish, trout, flounder, and tuna. His cheeses consisted of provolone, Swiss, Sharp cheddar, and pepper jack. One great thing about John's butcher shop is that it could deliver your food to your doorstep. The bad thing was a local gang looking for protection money harassed him. When he refused the gang set one of his shops on fire. One man was arrested for arson and that angered the gang so they demanded an extra $5,000 along with the $900 a month they were asking for, John still refused to pay and the gang leader came right out and threatened his life. John went to the police, but they said they could do nothing.
    "Hey John, how's business?"
    "Not well I'm afraid. The Dragons are terrorizing my customers, breaking into my shops, and just last night there was a drive by at one of my shops downtown."
    "Oh. Maybe you should just pay them the money?"
    "No way! I'm not just going to roll over and."
    Bang!
    A loud gunshot rang out from a large tan van that was speeding past the shop. John ran to the front door and yelled "You can't terrorize me!" he turned to Maria and was horrified to see her laying on the ground with a large shotgun wound in the small of her back. She lay there gasping for air and then slowly died in John's arms.
    Three days later a funeral was held. John stayed at her grave in complete silence until the cemetery closed. As he turned to leave, he saw a red silky ribbon blow up into the night sky. At that moment he snapped, just like that day so very long ago when he was only 14, John began to laugh, and with a smile on his face, he walked out of the cemetery. When John got home that night he found that a brick had been thrown thru his living room window, with a note attached with a piece of fishing line. The note read

    Hey how you like what I did to your girl? I'm sending a guy to collect my money tomorrow, have it or your next!

    John crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash then went to bed.
    The next day John was working at one of his butcher shops when a young black teenager, no older than 15, walked in with a blue ball cap, black tank top, red athletic shorts, walked in, he seemed nervous as he stood in line, his dark eyes glancing up, down, left, and right. He seemed to be checking out the store for security cameras or something of that sort. John didn't pay much attention to the boy for his mind was elsewhere he didn't notice when the boy left without buying anything, he was to focused on the Dragons gang member sitting at one of the seats smiling at him in a sinister way, like a snake watching a mouse play, waiting for a chance to strike.
    He was the one convicted of burning down his other shop; he was a Korean man with a dragon tattoo on his neck. After the shop closed for the night he stood and walked over to John, "Name's Kenji, got the money?" Kenji asked "In my safe in the back." "Well go get it." as John turned to walk to the back room the man grabbed his shoulder "Wait just a minute, you think I'm just gona let you go alone? Hell no I'm comin with ya." "Suit yourself." said John as he unlocked the storeroom door. John stepped inside the pitch-black room with Kenji rite behind him. As the door began to shut behind them John began to chuckle. Kenji could tell something was wrong just as the lights came on John swung a metal pipe at Kenji's head striking him on the left temple.
    Kenji awoke tied to a chair head throbbing; a small trickle of blood was running down his forehead and around his eye. Kenji was having a hard time seeing through his swollen left eye,
    "So, your finally awake."
    It was John standing over him holding a large, steel meat cleaver that had been sharpened recently.
    "What, what do you want? Huh? Money? I got lots of it you can have as much as you want!"
    John began to chuckle a little then broke out into laughter.
    "What are you laughing at huh? Why the hell are you laughing?"
    "Well, you can't very well spell slaughter with out laughter now, can you!?"
    The color in Kenji's face began to drain as he realized what the meat cleaver was for.
    "You sick b*****d! I'm gona kill you!" yelled Kenji.
    "Now, why don't we begin?" John placed the blade of the cleaver on Kenji's left shoulder
    "Ready?" asked John.
    "Screw you!" said Kenji in an angry, frightened voice
    "Okay then" John replied.
    John put pressure on the meat cleaver and slowly split Kenji's muscles against the grain of the muscle. Kenji let out a loud, blood-curdling scream as the cold blade tore thru his tendons
    "See how thin I can slice your flesh. It's just something else!" John told Kenji as he sliced a piece of muscle out of his shoulder about 5 inches long and 2 inches wide, it was about one fourth of an inch thick, and looked like a slice of finely cut ham.
    "So, how you hanging in there?" asked John, there was no response; Kenji had passed out from sheer pain.
    Just as John was about to put Kenji's hand in the meat grinder to slowly dispose of the body. When the door burst open and a young teenager stood in the doorway, it was the teen from earlier that day that had seemed nervous, he was holding a hatchet in one hand and a broken bottle in the other.
    "Alright give me your money and no one gets hurt" shouted the kid, John had already hid Kenji's body in the freezer but he was still covered in blood and had left the first piece of Kenji's shoulder lying on the table,
    "Alright, alright, the money's in the safe." replied John "Open it!" demanded the teen. John opened the safe and the kid pushed him aside and began to stuff his pockets with cash, he didn't even notice John walking toward him with the meat cleaver in hand. Just as John was about to slice into the teen's back the kid turned and ran right into John, John stumbled back as the kid fell to the ground, "What the hell!" exclaimed the teen in an angry tone then he noticed the meat cleaver in John's hand, he became even more angry and threw his hatchet at John, John deflected it with the meat cleaver and quickly stood just to be slugged in the face by the kid, the teen punched him in the stomach, then grabbed John's head and forced it downwards into his knee, as he started to run John swept his leg across the ground and tripped him, as the boy was falling he extended his arms to catch himself, Crack! His arm snapped as the weight of his body, and the harsh pull of gravity pounded his arm onto the concrete floor. John stood and walked over to this broken kid and with a quick thrust of his arm he ended the boys life.
    John sliced apart the boy and the remainder of Kenji and then proceeded to put them thru the meat grinder. After their bodies had been reduced to a raw hamburger like substance, John took them out behind his shop and burned them in an old oil barrel and afterwards he buried them in shallow 2-foot graves.
    “So why tell us this now? In 1996, it’s been six years.”
    “Because, I’m board. And would like to see if you can actually convict me with only a confession, and no other evidence. I hear there’s this new technology called DNA testing. But it didn’t hold up in court the last time it was used, you know the O. J. Simpson case last year.”
    “Don’t worry, We’ll convict this time all we need is a drop of blood.”
    “Will ashes, and a bone do?”
    “They’ll be just fine.”
    “Then you’ll have no problem. If you can find them.”
    The next month the trial began, and three months later John was convicted and sentenced to death.
    John appealed his case only one time while in prison, it was rejected.
    At John’s execution Detective Smitt, the Police Captain, the Judge and a few others sat in a room with a glass window so they could observe the execution.
    As John was wheeled in and strapped down by 25 leather straps to a table and tilted upwards so that he was at a 80 degree angle and asked if there were any last words that he wanted to say, he replied
    “It was fun Detective Smitt, hope you enjoyed my story.”
    As the lethal chemicals were being injected into his left arms vein he spoke once more.
    “Oh, and by the way I have your wife.”
    James Smitt jumped out of his seat in shock and looked over towards the Captain.
    “Where’s your wife?!”
    “I-I don’t, England! She should have arrived home 2 hours ago.”
    “Call her!”
    James ran to the pay phone and fumbled in the coins from his pocket.
    “Ring ring, ring ring” every ring made him feel even more anxious. Finally after what seemed an eternity his oldest son Edward answered the phone.
    “Hello.”
    “Ed, where’s your mother?!”
    “Mom? I don’t know. Why?”
    James threw down the phone and ran to his car. When he arrived home there were already 2 police cars there. One holding a package found at the front door by his youngest son, Michel. Inside was his wife’s wedding ring and a note. The note read

    You’ve left my body with no life, and thus I leave you with no wife, she has seen her bitter end, there is no advice I have to lend, a family with out a mothers touch, leaves a hole that is to much, you made me rot in a cell, Now James, I’ll see you in Hell. twisted