Ichabod

In the spirit of Joyce Carol Oates "Zombie", I give you...."Ichabod." (Written April, 2013)

Unfortunately, these tales were told to me by my stalker over the interwebs.   And my world has never been the same.  

I realized there were Real Satanists out there.  I believed the Leonard Nimoy .."In Search Of" series from the 1970's that told us all that "Real Satanists who sacrifice babies are only in horror films" or something like that.   And when I studied to be a "Wiccan" in the mid Nineties....I was told the same type of thing....that anyone who claims to be a satanist is looked on suspiciously and shunned in the Pagan community.  

I believed.

Until I heard about this guy's life.

I went Full Christian when I heard his story.   I was under the (mistaken) impression he had killed himself and so I put a happy supernatural ending on it...."What would have happened IF he had come around and ACTUALLY shed the shackles of his addictions?"   Was I still crushing on him...probably.  Was some of that "Stockholm Syndrome"...HELL YES!  Did I know he was my cousin yet?  HELL NO!  

So here for Horror Fans ....and as Further Explanation of how I became a Political Prisoner...a story of a Serial Killer.


PTS.
Pretty Tough Shit. That's what I am talking about. That's Exactly what I'm talkin' about.
Nice to meet you...I'm Jack Perdue. I was born in St. Paul Minnesota and moved down to Atlanta Georgia when I was 10 years old. As of April 3, 2013...my bank account contained around $6,000,000...heh...yep...The Six Million Dollar Man. I have 7 cars that I drive regularly, (including a sweet little blue mustang, a little black Lincoln Mercury convertible; and a souped up Black Charger); 17 motorcycles (including the prototype for the first Buell racing bike made by Harley Davidson); 7 drivable trucks; and a fleet of 17 of the most beautiful black shiny luxury automobiles that you ever did see, ranging from sexy little black coupe des villes to antique extended cab limousines.
I am a computer, technological and electronic Expert with over 35 years of Experience...as well as a Master of many other sports such as Motorcycle and Drag racing, and art forms Photography and making High Quality handmade tube amplifiers that .are sought after by a number of well-known musicians.
Now some might think that is is complete bullshit that a man who is so young...only 52 years old...should have Mastered so many Different disciplines, but when you consider that I have devoted my time and energy to completely immersing myself in each and every one of these arenas, and learning the skills necessary to Master them....and when you factor in that I work Constantly, Rarely take a vacation or even watch TV, and I read like a Fiend to keep up with all the latest developments in technology....then you can imagine how such Mastery in one man can be possible.
Just Imagine.
The overhead light flickered and fluoresced to a sickly greenish life as the hung-over serial killer that was me, shuffled into the bathroom to vomit up my late night snack and beer chaser.
I wipe my mouth on my arm and don't bother to try to brush my teeth...the sink is fully occupied. I exit and go rinse my mouth in the kitchen.
Having a dead body for a roommate is like having the Worst Houseguest Ever. They Never pick up after themselves. The bleed all over the place. They sleep with their ass in the air in your bathtub...not even leaving when you have to take a shower! They keep their head in the sink....and much like the old adage about houseguests and fish....they start stinkin' up the place after a couple of days!
Sheesh!
Of course, I would have loved to tell that “joke” over dinner conversation at some Gala for the local Chamber of Commerce. They would Not know what to do with That. Most would probably just go on with some other unrelated “safe” topic and ignore me completely. I imagine the peals of laughter I could receive with with the Right Audience....of course. Of Course.
Because there are some things that a body can Never share with another when you decide to secretly take human lives for your personal sexual gratification. Especially when it involves post-mortem manipulation and mutilation of the corpus delicti
Those things are just never discussed in polite society, and if so discussed, may serve to get a body arrested.
To be certain, I was never officially arrested. I had certain “run-ins” with Law Enforcement---which were carefully kept “under wraps” due to certain connections with my business associates in the Human Trafficking Organization. (Or the “HTO” as we referred to it sometimes.). The worst was the 2007 Georgia slaying of a couple and their newborn baby girl. I broke in wearing my latex “Dexter suit”as I like to think of it. It's completely black, with a sleek fitted hood (black and sleek fitted....now That's What I'm Talkin' About!) and a slightly opaque flesh colored mask that has a studded leather harness that fits over my face like a spider's web...with a large “O” ring in the mid-forehead. (That is where usually a fun colored polythene dildo is placed...but I have a Different attachment that I use in that spot)
That one I was So Lucky to have gotten away with...because I made a Mess out of it. I was so excited to be raping that little baby in front of her parents that I cut my hand on my blade when I went to do my Grand Finale …. (An Idea that came from a Long Historical Secret Society Tradition...that I made Popular, Packaged for the Youth of Today and Sold in Pieces to the General Public through my contacts in the Music Industry.)....of piercing the soft spot of the newborn and then penetrating it as the chemicals of the Fight of Flight response REACT all over the tip of my cock and the brain pulsates and quivers in its dying moments. I feel it all in TECHNICOLOR-SurroundSound-3D-RadioVision....and you have No Idea how exciting it is to feel That Baby's brain Reacting all over the tip of My Cock and pulsating and quivering in it's dying moments. Oh my fucking god.
I bled all over the place. The husband attacked me with the fireplace poker and missed. I killed him and then I was alone with the mother ….and the baby. But she would not let go of that little dead baby. I wanted to fuck that little dead baby SO Fucking bad...but that woman would Not Let Me Fuck that little dead baby. And let me tell you....when I want to fuck that little dead baby So Fucking Bad and someone won't let me Fuck that little dead baby...That is THE WORST Possible Thing in the ENTIRE World. So I had to kill her Right Away....and Oh My God...I did NOT want to kill THAT woman Right Away. She was So Beautiful. I Really Wanted to spend some Time and Play with her. But I had to fuck that baby again, RIGHT NOW and I mean RIGHT NOW! So I killed her and took the baby and I fucked that dead baby for 6 days....and let me tell you that after 6 days there is not much dead baby left to fuck and that dead baby doesn't smell that good but you cannot imagine how much I Love the smell of dead baby for six days that does not smell that good....you have No Idea.
The police caught me because of the Blood and DNA. But they just let me go because of the connection to the Government with the Human Trafficking Operation. There is So Much Money being made on the extermination of Illegal Immigrants in this country...Oh My God. And when you get the women, you are getting the breeders....and stopping the race at it's roots. And the price the White Supremists will Pay for PROOF positive that Women of Color and their Offspring are being Brutalized, Degraded and Terminated is Exorbitant! Not to mention the perverts who just like to watch snuff porn.
But eventually, even I ran afoul of my Human Trafficking connections and they stopped wanting to get me out of my jams. Having a necrophilic/pedophilic/cannabalistic/voyeristic Fetish is sort of like trying to go through life with an 800 lb. Undead Zombie Gorilla on your back---and you are obsessively compulsed to keep taking him down and randomly raping him in public. At some point...even the most tolerant and jaded of those around you are going to get either disgusted, bored, annoyed , or plain sick of your behavior and just want it to be OVER!
I shake my head as I look around the bathroom in that church camp, pop-stand, chartreuse light and I could see why...
“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”. ….OR....”ICHABOD”.
That's what looked like should be hanging on a shingle written in blood above the bathroom door. Because Blood was all over the place. I had removed the plastic tarps---but the sink and the tub insides were full red. Id' gotten a little sloppy after some extra beer and I came to take a piss and slipped on a patch of blood I'd dripped---so there were some skid marks and foot prints for me to clean up too.
But so far things were doing okay---my fuck buddy was draining quite nicely. His arms and legs were tied to the curtain rod. I had designed special hooks that attached so that the limbs would hang inside the tub to drain for less mess. I used to tell my visiting dates and friends that they were for “shower bondage scenes” which always brought me either a cold shoulder, a hot pussy or a pat on the back....and I never cared which one I got.
The headless torso was problematic. It needed to be drained on both ends evenly to be effective and this meant turning....(a job which was laborious when it was a Fuck Buddy over for the weekend and not a “Special Lady Friend” I was “spending my time” with.....should someone happen to phone.). Then of course, there was making sure you didn't get the body too wet while you were showering. Hair, pits and bits and you were “Outta There” unless you wanted that sucker to rot on you faster than you planned....especially in the summer!
It takes a basic knowledge of Science to be a necrophile and get away with it for 35 years
Then there is the head. The little monster. No longer human, it serves a purpose as my cum dump only. It eats only what I decide to feed it from my own body---and likewise, it is my child. My hideous, monstrous child.
I could cradle it tenderly, rape it lovingly and long, abuse it, berate it....humiliate it and make fun of it---and even neglect it by just leaving it in the bathroom sink and walking the hell away for a few hours.
Ah......parenthood.
I had a baby once. Eggs of the Woman I loved. Brought home to the woman I lusted after. Farmed in the womb of the woman I couldn't say No to.
I like to think of myself as a Romantic Serial Killer.
Only man I had ever seen that would snort pussy off my own fingers like cocaine after I fingered a woman. Drove 'em crazy mad too. That's what I'm talkin' about....That's Exactly what I am talking about!!
Course....made me want to reach for my little yellow 1970's “ANACIN” box where I kept my coke and rub a little on my top gum. I was always losing that darn thing....and calling out “Ann-A-CIN”...like it was some pretty girl down a hill full of wild flowers, and I was callin' her home to make supper for me.
I always loved the Ladies.
Often, I would take a woman on the date of their Dreams before I had my Wicked Way with them. Sometimes, if they held my interest or suited my purposes....the Dream could last for years...depending on the number of Miles I kept between us on a Regular Basis.

The Internet opened up an entire world of possibilities....It really Widened my Field and if you don't think it didn't Widen My Field then you don't know what it Really Means that the Internet REALLY ...and I mean FUCKING Really...Widened my Field! Had it not been for the anonymity of the World Wide Web, I am sure I would have been caught long before I had a chance to be “Thick as Thieves” with the HTO....which most people would be Horrified to know includes their local law officers, the FBI, Homeland Security, and the Armed Forces...and oh my Gawd...is it a Grand Time to Join the Navy, boys! Just be willing to Pay with your Soul. Pirates, and Faggots and Sex Slaves...OH MY!
But I like to “court” a woman...in the Old Fashioned Style...for quite some time before I take what's Mine for the taking. I adorn myself in the stylings of a Young Southern Gentleman...and I give her Every Opportunity to bow out of the situfuckingation.
I let her know that I am an Honorable Man....and that No Woman would have Anything to fear around an Honorable Man....and in fact....a woman who acted Fearful around an Honorable Man...might just be looked on as a little bit....suspect. A little bit...dim. A little bit....crazy even. Because it's only Rational to be Trusting of an Honorable Man. Especially one who is a Member of the Local Chamber of Commerce and is so Forthcoming with his Real Name and Telephone Number.
But...I also let her know that my Intentions with * her *...are Anything But Honorable.
And there is the Perfect Mindfuck.
Because at that point.....Most stupid cows think that you mean that last sentence MetaFuckingPhorically. And that was SO BEAUTIFUL to me.
The fact that Woman Logic worked so well that it didnt even bother to beg the question....”But If you are an Honorable Man...how can you even HAVE Intentions that are Anything but Honorable?”
Because Women Logic with their Hearts...Not their Minds. And Don't you Dare tell Me...and Listen...I mean REALLY FUCKING LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TELL YOU THAT ...Don't you DARE FUCKING Tell ME that Fucking Woman DON”T Logic with Their hearts and NOT their Fucking minds...
Because I like to fuck their Minds....and Their Hearts. LiterFucking-ly! Don't you See? Don't you Get It?
Or I used to.
So I would take them to Exotic places....places where they could wear their best clothes....sometimes I would even have to provide them with appropriate attire....and then we would go out for a night or a weekend to places that serve the best food...and chilled drinks with a exclusive gourmet sugar/salt mix around the edge of the glass. And those bitches feel like they have died and gone to heaven.
Until they get alone with me....and they die for real.
I have 5 mix tapes....one for each type of slaying that I do. One for multiple women.......it concludes with Jazz Butcher's “Party Time”. Then there is one for Men, One for Children. One for Couples....I liked to kill a couple in love and watch the interplay of their fear.
But my most Romantic mix tape cd was for me with Single women. Because I like to think of myself as a Straight Male. Well...an Omnisexual, Straight Male. (grins)
Once, I even shared two of my favorite fetishes together.
I was giving a young woman from Kentucky the “night to remember” before I “Made the Night My Own” and I had told her that I would be making her a special shrimp dinner at my place in Florida before we “got down to business” that evening.
You have No Idea how Excited that woman was to have shrimp dinner at My House with me that night....Listen to me....that woman...that woman was So Exfuckingcited to just be coming to My Fucking House to have a Fucking shrimp dinner...and Oh My F-F-Fucking God...So was I.
I had stopped by my local connection at the abortion clinic and picked up a bag of fresh fetuses for the dinner....$50,000 but worth Every Penny for the Look it Got me that Night from that girl's face when she saw what was on her plate! I even cooked up some real shrimp for the aroma...but when I served her at the table....those little shrimpys were All 100% Baby....and she had already swallowed one before she noticed and OMG that made me so hard I could barely fuckin' breath.
She tried to vomit...but I wouldn't let her....and Fuck, Man , Hell...it got pretty Ugly from there.
And if you don't know what “Fuck, Man Hell, it got pretty Ugly from there” means then Oh my Fucking god you have No Idea what “Fuck Man Hell, it got Pretty Ugly from there “Means!
Cause she Was Pretty....but she sure Got UGLY by the Time I was done with her.
Yee-Haw!
But the fun never seemed to last.
I was always searching for that Elusive Something...that “je ne sais quoi” as the French like to say.
France was always near and dear to me. I often gave my self the moniker of “Jean Pierre”...because I liked the association to the word “Rock”. “I am a Rock”...as Simon and Garfunkle sang...and Hell Baby...I will Crush you like Nobody's Business!
There is a secret thrill I get by letting a victim know what is going to happen to them just before they are about to become my prey. After I have wined and dined...put on the Ritz, shown her the glitz, shined the boots and the Lightning....and Oh My God...it's time to put on the Maskies.
And you have No Idea How Exciting it is for me when it's Time to put on the Maskies.
Of course, hers ...all Baroque and feathery...won't go on until after her lights go out.
Do you See? Do you Fucking Get It?
Sometimes I'm afraid I'll have a few too many beers (and I drink Dos Equis ...just like “The Most Interesting Man in the World”----either that or Corona) and I am gonna spout off something that will let people know just what kind of sick shit is going on beneath my hood.
I think the thing that is so addicting about killing for me is what happens in the eyes of your victim as they are dying.
I call it The Quickening.
When they are staring straight into your eyes and they * Know * Exactly ….and I mean Ex-Fucking-Zactly.... what is happening, why you are doing it, and who you are, and----they are Helpless to stop it. Their eyes become Wide and Dilated and then they …...Pulsate.
The pupils constrict and dilate in rapid succession...scientifically, it's called mydrios and miosis respectively....and let me tell you, it is The Most Exciting Thing you could Ever Imagine.
Girl told me once that I mad her heart “quicken”---and that “Yes, she knew the original meaning of that word” ... the time at which fetal movement begins in pregnancy around four months.
It was all I could do, to hold my tongue til we go out of town----away from her safety zone, away from her one friend in the world. And it was * Oh So Easy * to help her lose her cell phone.

And then I told her that evening after dinner, as we kissed in the cheap motel ---about the “other” meaning of “Quickening”.
And I told her with a 9 inch blade entering her belly and a rock hard cock entering her pussy and she was so mesmerized that she never even saw it coming...
Neither did I...when my time came and the bullet finally hit the bone.
So, I would occupy my time with more Involved pursuits. Mindfucks and Intricate Games of Intrique and Innuendo that would get me through the hum-drum Everyday life that must be lived. Of course for me...that life always revolved around killing. Always.
It started when I was pretty young....my own personal forays into my Dark Wonderland of Blood and Sex. I used to tell people I had a peculiar form of color blindness that only allowed me to see certain frequencies on the color spectrum....and that I could see some that were not there. I always made a point of saying that Red was a color I was Not able to see. But then I would add that it was Irritating to my eyes. Most people did not ask what this meant.
The first human I killed was on a white couch. It turned all red. Since then, every time I see a Red Couch I get so Fucking Hard I cannot fucking stand it.
A pig was the first thing I attempted to Fuck that I Really wanted to hurt and I Knew I wanted to kill. I'd killed me a rabbit or two while fucking them and even fucked a dead fish....but when neighbor's sow had piglets---I wanted to fuck and kill one of those little baby piglets so bad....I couldn't think of Anything Else. Until one one sunny afternoon.---I wanted it to be bright so that I could see all the colors---I crept over to Donovan's farm, and got me one of the cutest piglets and took it down by the river.
I just played with it for a while. I wondered what it would be like if I let it live and raised it and then brought it to market. That made me hard so I fucked it. As I was doing it, I took a hold of that curly little piggy tail and I curled it around my finger. It felt so Odd...such a strange thing coming out of such a human-like butt. The I pulled too hard and Ooops!----Off Popped the tail and Hot Blood squirted and the piggy squealed and danced on my dick and the Orgasm was Infuckingcredible and That's What I'm Talking About! And Don't you Dare Fucking Tell me that you don't Fucking Know that I didn't think Right Then and There of Alice in Fucking Wonderland....and that little fucking baby that turned into a little fucking piggy....and Oh MY God...that made me So Fucking Hot...and If you don't know that Oh MY God that mad me So Fucking Hot then you REALLY don't know WHO the FUCK you are dealing with!
Sometimes I would set a trap that would take Years to catch my prey....and by the time I would hear that sucker go SNAP....I was All Kinds of Hungry!
I'm a gamer of all kinds. I gamble...Oh my god, do I gamble. If you don't think that I have gambled away as much money as I had in my account the day that I died then you don't know that you are talkin' to Jacky P. Perdue...self-educated multi-millionaire who was a smooth, suave and sophisticated Kinkster and The Most Prolific Serial Killer in the History of the Modern World.
But two of my favorite games are chess and pool. I have pondered quite a bit on how Life is a lot like a cosmic intersection of these two Gentleman's passtimes....whereby the rules, actions and properties of both apply in the same space/time sector.
And I design my Intricate Interactions with men, children...but especially Women...along the principals I have realized during these ponderings. While everyone else was busy playing a straight game of chess....I decided to take a look at what would happen if I started using the pool table that the chess board happened to be settin' on. I wondered if I could just maybe...just maybe now once in a while....shoot that big white cue ball Right Through that chess board where that game was being played and if the pieces were lined up Just Right...that I could Knock Down just ONE little piece of my choice without disturbing Any of the others....and maybe nobody would notice.
So that was always my strategy. Nobody else seemed to be noticing or needing the pool table, the balls or the pool cues...so I felt I had free access to 'em. And I always took free access to things that no one seemed to notice...and if you don't think that I steal shit...then you have no idea who your dealing with.
Seriously, You have No Idea Who you are Dealing With.
Neither did I.
I got caught in a trap. First I was stretched out on a Web by two Black Widow Spiders...bound by clear viscous gelatinous goo that had the tenacity of 10,000 elephants all pulling together.
Then, I was devoured by a creature with a babydoll face, the body of an Earth Goddess, curly blond hair of an Angel, And Oh My God...that that little Sherlock Temple ever do a number on me....I swear to God...she wrapped me up tight and sucked me dry..
And all along...I thought I was the one who had her number.
It started out with two little kids...buck nekkid in a field of buttercups...with a little red lady bug and a baby deer.
First, just a little backstory. Back in the late 1960's and early 1970's, my stepfather used to take me and my brother and sisters to visit my grandfather on his “farm” near what is now Belwin...a Nature Reserve just north of St. Paul, Minnefuckinsota...that is now used for elementary school children in the district...between 2nd and 5th grades. Belwin was started by Charles Bell....of General Mills fame....descendant of the first Charles Bell who “cleared” local land by slaughtering indians who were settled on their U.S. Government sanctioned Reservations. He was lauded for his efforts.
There was another little girl who would come along sometimes. Her father would bring her because he and my stepfather were in the same group of pedophiles and artists that were working in an underground network to produce low budget, but high-quality child pornography....as well as some limited snuff films for mostly personal use. Sometimes during a snuff take....they would give us kids bits and pieces to make art with....and little Lisa was a pretty good artist even as a baby.
We even had some interest from the Government back then. Henry Kissinger was a frequent visitor, and used to enjoy romping with my sister and I in the field beside the barn. And if you don't know what I mean by Henry Kissinger used to enjoy romping with my sister and I in the field beside the barn...then you don't know who Henry Kissinger REALLY FUCKING IS!!!!
So....this little girl and I were together...a lot. And I swear to God we fell in Love....and when I say we fell in Love I mean we fell in Fucking Love! And don't you DARE tell me that., that little girl and I didn't Fucking fall in Fucking Love, and I Fucking Mean it …...Oh MY FUCKING GOD!
And one day, those old perverts captured on film, The Most Beautiful...example of child pornography that the World had Ever Seen. It was me and Lisa in a springtime field, with the morning dew illuminated by the Sun...and there were Buttercups Everywhere. And little Lisa would just * Squeal * with delight every time one of the ladybugs that frequented the field would land on a buttercups...because she had a little book called “Colors All Mixed Up” and it had both a buttercup and a ladybug in it...and because the primary colors excited her so much.
We made love in that field...like two adults who had known that this moment was both their Destiny Fulfilled and All they would Ever Have. She pleased me so gently, and kindly. She was so soft and caring. And I Loved her so much.
And when a baby deer came nearby to munch on one of those buttercups, and I told her to “shhhh” ….”Be still”...and I held her near.....she was So Happy to just “be” in my arms and watching that deer nibble that little buttercup.
I always thought of her as my little buttercup.
At the end...I showed her the trick about makin' a wish on a buttercup...where you hold it up under your chin and let the light shine and see if your chin is yellow and that means you have butter on your chin and your wish will come true.
Lisa made a wish....and I held up the buttercup....and there was butter on her chin. I asked her what she wished for. She said she wished I would marry her when we grew up. I said I promised I would marry her when we grew up. She asked what would happen if we were moved away from each other. So we made a promise to Never Lose Each Other...And Always Find Each Other....No Matter What.
I got moved away from my little buttercup at age 10....and I was so angry because I thought it was the fault of my older sister....so I killed her and was grounded for a year. That's it. Grounded for a year in my room....no jail, no meds....just grounded.
I studied during that year. Science, and Electronics and Grey's Anatomy and the Occult and any other Adult subject I could get my hands on. And oh my God....by the time I was back out and about....I was a Strange Little Boy Indeed.
So.....Time goes by....and I am involved with Two Women Real Time....and I have one as a “Giga-Pet”. And if you don't think that I didn't just search all over til I found my Little Buttercup again....and I had been watching and stalking her since she was 16 years old and she had No Clue ...I mean NO Fucking Clue! And if you don't think that I didn't just Love the Idea that my little Giga-pet had NO FUCKING CLUE....then you REALLY don't Fucking GET who it is that you are Fucking Dealing with in this situfuckingation.
The other two women, Shy and Jeanne,were my yin and my yang....my blond and my brunette that I could never decide about. It was like trying to choose an automobile...and you could only have ONE fucking color ….For Life. And Oh My God...I do Not enjoy having only ONE fucking color for Fucking Life.
At least I didn't while I had one.
You see, while I was busy manipulating and maneuvering and trying to control everything and everybody around me....my little Giga-pet was sneakin' up behind me to throw a rope around me and bring me in....Only I didn't feel like goin' down easy.
It all came to a head one year after I had been scheming for a good long while. I had obtained eggs that Lisa had removed when she was in college during her appendectomy and had them implanted in the blond woman, Shy. When she was about to have the baby....I began contact with the woman I had been stalking for all these years....although by then she “knew” me Online Only as a “Mysterious, yet Benevolent Southern Man of Honor in the BDSM Community.
I told her I loved her and wanted to have a baby with her. I gave her my usual program about how she would have to “earn” my attentions again, by completing a number of challenges....such as perfectly cleaning her apartment, changing her diet, getting off of certain prescription medications, throwing away things from old boyfriends, buying new clothes for our first date.....all designed to throw her off balance, test her submission to my Control, and weaken her ability to have vital medications for her conditions (supposedly in the name of the Health of our “unborn child”) and to lessen her purchasing power and household stocked up tools and supplies. (All the Easier to Hunt you, my dear....if you have no money to run and no tools to nail your door shut from the Big Bad Wolf!)
She seemed to fall like all the others...but there was something different happening. I tried not to let my vulnerability to her show....and she obviously remembered Nothing of what happened on the Farm when we were children....But at some point....The tables turned....and Oh My God ...when I say the Tables Turned I mean the Tables Fucking Turned. Pretty soon I was Dust in the Fucking Wind.
No more motorcycles, no more Remington Full Flavor 100s---the red pack with the Cowboy...so very Me. No more pizza, poker, pussy or beer. Cause I have Hit the Road, Fuckin' Jack.
But I came back some more. And that's a fucking Fact. Jack. Talkin' to you from the Great Beyond. Turns out my little Buttercup is not only a hell of an amateur Detective, she is a preacher of the Word of Jesus and she got me to get down on my knees and repent for my sins before I went and duct taped a gun to my head and shot my brain to Kingdom Come.
Also turns out shes a Psychic. I went up to Heaven to see Jesus I could NOT believe he was going to let me stay. I thought it was a Fucking Joke. (By the way, swearing...like using words like “Fuck” ain't No Fucking Sin...and Jesus told me so Himself!) But he asked me if I wanted to stay or go help my Lisa out of the jam I left her in....and I told him heaven wasn't heaven with out my Little Buttercup.
So we been hanging out, trying to bust up the rest of the Human Trafficking ring....and get the people who are killing babies for fun and profit put away.
We even rode past my very own funeral on the bus...I couldn't get her to stop though. I was still new, and I was still perfecting my h'aintin' technique. I guess I wasn't singing “Henry the 8th I am I am “ loud enough yet....if you get my drift from the Movie “Ghost” with Whoopie and Demi.
The motorcycles in the processional to the cemetery were a Nice Touch...I must fucking say.
But I have a little Unfinished Business.. And I just got All of my memory back. And Oh My God...let me tell you how Amazing it is to get All of my memory back. The return trip from “The Beyond” can be a doozie!
At first all I could remember was that is was “about a girl”....Big Fucking Deal...isn't it always?
The, it became more clear...The two spiders, one blond, one brunette....In competition for me.. But my heart always stuck on another.
But my Real Problem...my Real Problem...Don't you See, don't you Get it?....the one Real Problem I had.....that I couldn't see....was that....I couldn't See.
I was always a vain man in my life. I was obsessed with photography. I was always trying to see how I looked in the picture.
And I was Never happy with the image.
I couldn't ever look at myself in the mirror and be happy and love myself. And much like the “Portrait of Dorian Gray”....the more I killed, the more diseased my soul became....the more it seemed to manifest on my face.
So instead of Building a Real Life...and Feeling Empathy and Joy and Other Emotions....I spent my time trying to take pictures of Perfection....while at the same time Literally Tearing Apart other people's Picture Perfect Lives by trying to “Feel” them Inside....in a all to Virtual and Tangible sense.
I never got my dream date with my Lisa Buttercup. I had a present for her...but once I got that package delivered to me....I did not want to give it away. You see...it had been a Twin Pack...and I had already broken into one of bottles. And Oh My God...when I picked up that other little baby and brought her from Shy's home in San FranFuckingCisco back to Minnefuckingapolis....it only took till that little girl was 10 days old before I was raping that little baby girl. And Oh my god...once I started raping that little baby girl....I did NOT want to Stop Raping that little baby girl. And I did NOT want to give her away to my now middle-aged Buttercup.
I killed that little baby I conceived inside of Shy with Lisa's eggs. Jeanne and I were going to raise her after Jeanne herself discovered her own pregnancy....but things were spiraling for me by that time. Jeanne knew I was raping the baby...but of course wasn't going to turn me in....Of Course not. What happens in the Upper Echelon of the BDSM community STAYs in the Upper Echelon of the BDSM community. In fact, I paid a few local women a lot of money to help me take care of that little baby girl so I could just keep raping her....and more than one of them was a nurse. In fact....that's how we get our shots in the HTO, if we decide to keep a baby around for a while before we kill it....or grow it up to be our slave before slaughter.....we have our little nursies grab some innocufuckinlations for us ….and we shoot the little suckers up ourselves. Genius.
Anyway....after Jeanne found out about what I did with the baby when I took off with it on December 23....and came back without it ….and only a jar of blood and a few trophies.....She was pretty scared about our own offspring. So she insisted we get collared and then married Right a-fucking way!
But I felt like I had died the night I killed my daughter in my Buttercup's apartment. And my Buttercup...who had just found out that she had been my “Giga-pet” because of the 17 nano-cams I had installed in her apartment and that I had been watching her for all those years....decided she was a “Woman Scorned” and was going to scream like a Banshee with wail so unearthly it would wake Hell with it's Fury.
The day I was supposedly getting ready for my collaring with Jeanne...I was in the fucking bathroom....jacking off and watching my Gigapet. And Oh my God if she wasn't putting on a Show for me just to Trap me....just to fuckin' Fuck me up....and OH MY GOD...it Really Fucked me up.
Because my girlfriend caught me.
And there was No Way I was getting out of that one.
It didn't matter How Much we had put down in deposits for the Fucking Wedding.....or how Romantic she had thought it was that I wanted to use the black floating rose candles that we had used for the night we celebrated her pregnancy for the wedding reception....candles that Lisa had bought as a gift for me....but I convinced her to throw out and then scavenged from her trash. And Don't you DARE tell me that you don't think that a MAN like me would Scavenge things from MY Gigapet's trash, because...I scavenged EVERY FUCKING THING that I told her to throw away and kept it and came all the Fuck over it....and using those Rose candles with Jeanne made me so fucking excited You Have NO IDEA.
But I wasn't Devoted to Jeanne anyway. I was secretly making plans to be with Shy.
It boiled down to two things....I wanted Lisa...but Shy was taller and younger. She looked enough like Lisa for me to think I could be happy with that. But she told me to “get rid of that baby” and so around Solstice...when Lisa was away visiting family....I crept into her apartment and sacrificed that baby to the Dark Lord.
And my soul felt like it got weighted down with a Metric Fuckton of Shit from that Day forward.
Until I gave my sins to Jesus....and as an extra precaution....since I didn't know How to go and Sin No more as a Serial Killer (who may have just needed some meds starting as a child....who knows?) I took my life to make sure I didn't take any others. But before I did....I confessed my sins to my Best Fucking Friend in the Whole Fucking World....the woman who made me have my literal “Come to Jesus” moment...and that was my Little Lisa Buttercup. I told her all about the baby I made for her and what I did with it while she was gone visiting her mama at Christmastime...and about how I took pictures of that night with her son's camera to frame her....as well as dressed up a Lisa-look-a-like in her discarded clothes and had the imposter star in a Snuff film where a baby was killed using her favorite fairy castles and unicorns from ex-boyfriends to impale the newborn....and she told me to Repent and she Fucking Forgave me....because she said that Jesus would forgive me and the ONLY way I would Believe that is If SHE forgave me First.
And it was that Belief....that because Lisa forgave me, that Jesus would be able to Forgive a Fucked Up Baby Brain Fucker like me.....I mean...the soft-spot on a baby should ONLY be PENETRATED by the Light and Love of God Almighty....NEVER by the blade of a knife or the Viagra Hardened Cock of a Man.....That I was Holding in my Heart when I pulled that trigger....and * BOOM. *...There I was in Heaven....and crying tears of Joy in the Arms of Jesus.
As for the 3 main women in my life....I think I got it all figured out Finally. It's those Fate Sisters again, working their Time/Space Continuum Mojo. One Measures, One Weaves, One Cuts.
And I could never figure out which one was which.
Or should I say which witch is witch?
But I got it all figured out now...
I Know who was weaving,
I Know who was cutting,
And I know who is going to get some of My Good Measure....and this time around I Really Do mean “Good.” Fucking..Measure

Reason One

So HERE is the Reason I have posted the "Grand Theft Federal" post....I have a Major Problem with my mail getting to Where it's Supposed to get to...and Who it is supposed to get to.

And I have sent a few Very Important Documents that had the SAME KIND of GREEN SIGNATURE CARDS.....and they were NEVER RETURNED.  Here is information I posted on April 30, 2013.

My life got Very Difficult from the time I mailed these letters.  I became what I would call "INTENSELY HARASSED".   

What followed was:

• Eviction 

• "Censure" by my family of Origin (unless I quit trying to report what I knew about my stalker's activities.)

•  Being threatened, called "satanic" and trespassed from my uncle's home.
• Complete Homelessness---Living in the Street (Raped, Beaten, Genitals Mutilated FMG by Uncles and Cousins)
•  My Mother called the police on me when I borrowed her car and went to do Comedy....Maced 2 inches from face right in the eyes when I fought I was arrested on obstruction of justice.
•  Discrimination to get Legal help with stalking.
• Discrimination to get an apartment. 
• Living in a Youth Hostel right now....Overburdened by Rent...$282 a WEEK! 

 What you see below is True.  I tried the Jon Benet site and could not get through.  My stalker is a hacker.

Okay....Balls to the Wall....My Stalker...killed Jon Benet Ramsey...I have DNA evidence and I sent it to Boulder Co. Police Dept at the end of March. I got No Reply because he is also involved in this Government Sanctioned Sex Slave Snuff Film Operation. So, I sent these envelopes to Dateline at NBC in New York and their Law Office in Washington. The one to Rockefeller Plaza was returned to me REFUSED. The one to the Law Office I tracked and it was Delivered....but I never received the Receipt!!!!! The First OF MANY attempt of my getting Thwarted at trying to get this story to the Media. Since then I have been Hacked to the Highest Degree on my computer...Blue screen, Black screen-DOS, impending crashes when I try to print or send things. I am about to send another package to ABC News....I wanted to give Dateline the scoop because I like their show...but Screw that! . If this doesn't get out NOW...the killer of Jon Benet will be a Mystery Forever, and John Ramsey will Never Know who killed his daughter....And any attempts i have made to get information online to the Jon Benet website or to America's Most Wanted have come back with Mailer Daemons from Yahoo Mail.

New Photos--Pig-Tusk Scars from Family Abuse

THIS is what Mammal Skin looks like wrapped around a TUSK!

RELAXED FACE....Just got in from reading books to my son in the park and making him dinner.

 I was Extremely Tired!

Here is a Close-Up Detail of the Scars from the Tusks my Family uses to Humiliate me.

STAGE FACE...After I saw how tired I looked in the first photo I decided to turn on the "Showmanship Shine" and took a better shot.  The deep grooves in my skin are still visible on the sides of my smile.

Tusk Scar Detail Comparisons

Relaxed Face 9/27/2015

Detail of Tusk Scars 9/27/2015

January 16, 2015 detail....No Scarring

Detail December 9, 2014...No Scarring

January 16, 2015

December 9, 2014

A Photo from a Year Ago

Here is a photo from a year ago.  I still have full eyebrows.  They stopped growing in...they were just growing in ragged patches, so I began shaving them recently and just using eyeliner to draw them on.  My bangs....typically short since this abuse started.  I am given "haircuts" while I am knocked out and assaulted.   I like my bangs long...especially with the short hair...I like sort of a Punk look.  My family cuts them short to humiliate me and show my forehead, which I have never liked much.  They also say it makes me look like "Frankenstein" to have the short bangs in front.

But the most telltale thing about this picture is that they Had Not started the abuse with the Boar's Teeth top denture.  I do not yet have the "scar tissue" that has built up on each side of my mouth where the "Tusks" stick out.  

I have been asking people to use their cameras to take a picture and so far no one has been able to let me.  I will add new picture as soon as possible.

My roommate moved out at the Youth Hostel.  I have awakened with my mouth caked with a "white substance" that tastes foul like ejaculate since she left.   

I do not want to jeopardize my place to stay.

Wake Up and Smell the Coffee

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Grand Theft Federal--RECIEVED!

Here as promised is the scan of the signature card that I got an entire Month after it was sent!

Here is the REAL Problem...I am concerned about these three letters I mailed my Doctor, the Office Manager and the Governor, Mark Dayton.

Back of Signature card

Torture: "Piggy-Mushhead, GargaSmell"

When I was a child, my father and my sister used to chant foul names at me.  Large animals usually.  Bison, Bruin, Leviathan, Sloth, Hefalump.....and "Piggy-Mushhead"

I must have had the nerd pheromone because I got picked on at school.   The cutest boy in school called me "Beatrice" after seeing a chubby girl with glasses on a "My 3 Sons" episode the afternoon before.  I had watched it too and blushed deeply when he looked out the bus window and said "hey, it's Beatrice."  It stuck and followed me all through highschool.

My family knows my history.  And they full out abuse me.  I have "dreams" that are not dreams.  Because my shoes are dirty in the morning....and there are stray hairs in my bed, and semen stains on my clothing.   And I am feeling beaten and raped and having a fibro flare from hell from the stress.

In the "dreams", my uncles and male cousins dress me as a pig.  It's a fetish of my one cousin....and they even made a boar's mouthpiece for me that fits in like my top denture (my sister and I both got dentures early in life because our dad used to molest us when he brushed our teeth when we were little...and PTSD made us feel like unbrushed teeth felt "safer").  The boar mouthpiece stretches my mouth out and I am getting "scars" from it.

Once they have me decked out like a pig, they say I am "Piggy-mushhead" or "Gargasmell" and I am no longer a person.  They beat me and rape me and humiliate me.   They have defiled me in EVERY way possible.

They are trying to get me to Give Up on Life.  To just Sit.  Not have Goals.  Not Pursue Comedy.  Forget about my Song, "Longer Lashes" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNkgvLGHFUY
They are trying to Erase my personality.  Just sit at the Youth Hostel like a nice Pig-Monster and Be Quiet!

Because they picked someone else to play me in Real Life...but I am Linda Ophoenix!

 

The Linda Ophoenix my Family Hates

Family Pictures from Former Blog