Tag Archives: knife

Good Little Doggie ( Part Two )

04 Friday Jan 2019

Posted by in poems, stories

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , ,

After six operations and a three month stay in hospital I am finally ready to go home.

Because of the injuries to both ankles I now walk with the aid of a walking stick.

But I am determined to lead a normal life.

I was hospitalised after being attacked by a vicious Chihuahua whilst out walking in my local park.

The part devil part cujo cross set upon me without warning and chewed through my tendons like a great white biting a seal.

And I would have died if it wasn’t for the help of a bystander who stopped the bleeding until the paramedics arrived.

Now at home I am popping pills like candy and drinking way too much.

The drugs dull the pain in my ankles but do little to silence the demons living inside my head.

I know that you are all thinking that I should have been able to fend off an attack by a small Chihuahua but I have a history with dog attacks so once the Mexican mongrel started to chow down my mind just shut down.

The first attack happened when I was five years old and I was walking home from kindergarten when a german shepherd jumped a fence and took a chunk out of my left ear.

Then ten years later I was mauled by a mates afghan called sasha who broke his chain and honed in on me like I was a bag of kibble.

I tried to fight the mutt off but he was too big and he bit down hard and gnawed off the little finger on my right hand and swallowed it.

And now the Chihuahua attack makes three.

I don’t know the reason but dogs of all breeds and size seem to think that I am a human lamb chop covered in gravy ready for a taste.

But before I go any further let me introduce myself.

My name is Percy Lupe and I am 25 years of age and I reside in a southern suburb of Sydney.

I live alone because I don’t want to put anyone else in danger .

I know that another dog attack will happen sooner then later

When or where I don’t know.

I have now been home from the hospital for 28 days and I still haven’t ventured outside.

My food and alcohol is delivered to my front door and a nurse checks on me every two or three days and I pay all of the bills online.

But I crave the sunshine and the great outdoors and I hope one day to be able open my front door and walk outside.

Plus none of my neighbours own a dog so that day may happen soon.

And on the morning 35 days after coming home I wake determined that today is the day.

There is still a dark presence in the back of my mind but I push it aside and make a cup of coffee to calm down.

I swallow a few painkillers and sit on my couch to wait for the mailman to arrive.

My nurse usually brings my mail but to collect my own mail gives me a good reason to go outside.

Then at ten o’clock I hear the familiar sound of the postman’s motorbike and I watch as he pushes an envelope into my letterbox just fifteen feet past my front door.

I lean on my walking stick and just stand there looking out at the world listening to the birds and I hear one of my neighbours mowing his lawn.

My feet refuse to budge for fifteen minutes before my right hand reaches out and opens the front door and I step out onto my porch for the first time in months.

I look up and down the street about twenty times before I take a deep breath and venture out towards my letterbox.

I grab the mail and turn back when I hear a dog barking nearby.

WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF

Panicking I see a kelpie baring down on me from across the road but my walking stick gets stuck in the grass and I crash to the ground.

The dog hits me and takes a chunk out of my arm before I somehow manage to scramble to my feet.

But the dog still has a hold on me ‘Good little doggie if you let go of me now I promise not to kick the shit put of you’

But the kelpie pretends not to hear me and bites down even harder but then I realise I am still holding onto my walking stick and I swing it as hard as I can and connect with a crack.

“Hey you fuck wit what have you done to my dog?” I look over to see an old lady approaching from across the road.

The dog in question has recovered from my blow and runs away whimpering to its master. ‘ I have a good mind to ring the police or report you to the RSPCA’

I hold up my arm to show her the damage ‘Are you blind you old bitch? Your dog attacked me and I was only protecting myself so fuck off before I call the police’

I make it inside and slam the door on the old fool and her dog and I am tempted to call the cops but I don’t want to attract attention so I bandage my arm and take a few more painkillers.

I lay down on the couch waiting for the pills to kick in and close my eyes knowing that I am safe behind closed doors.

But I only snooze for about an hour before I am woken by a knock on my front door.

I lay hoping that the person will just go away but no such luck ‘Jesus Christ why cant the world just fuck off?’

Looking out through the blinds I notice the old bitch who’s dog just attacked me.

I want to ignore her but she is holding a huge chocolate cake in one hand while she continues to knock with the other.

Well I am addicted to chocolate so I relent and open the door “Sorry I have brought you a peace offering, I don’t know what got into Daffodil she is normally so gentle’

Daffodil? I cant believe that she has named the vicious creature Daffodil but I can almost taste the chocolate cake so I invite her inside.

After I brew some coffee and slice the cake I introduce myself ‘Pleased to meet you Percy my name is Ruby Conner and I am glad to see that Daffodil hasn’t hurt you too much’

‘Thanks Ruby but I didn’t even realise that you owned a dog’

‘Oh I have only had Daffodil and she is an indoor dog so you weren’t to know and I must say that I was surprised to see you outside and you have a walking stick were you in a car accident?”

I want to tell her to mind her own business but I can see that she is genuinely concerned so I open up and tell her about the dog attacks and how the Chihuahua ripped out my tendons so that is why I use a walking stick and have a fear of dogs.

Oh you poor thing if I had known I would have come over earlier and introduced myself but I thought you just preferred your own company’

Ruby and I are getting better acquainted when we are both startled by the sound of a dog howling and rush to the front window and see Daffodil howling to the sky.

Ruby is shaking her nerves are shot ” What is happening to Daffodil? She is usually a quiet gentle dog that is why I picked her.

‘It is me Ruby, Daffodil to howling to the dogs in the neighbourhood and once they form a pack they will be coming for me’

And sure enough Daffodil is soon joined by a Doberman a bull Mastiff and a huge Irish Wolfhound.

I push Ruby towards my bathroom ‘Ruby stay in here and I will call the cops and don’t come out until they arrive’

Once I know Ruby is safe i walk into the living room to call the cops but my phone isn’t on the coffee table where i usually leave it but then i remember that it is on charge in the kitchen.

I grab it and try to swipe the screen but i am shaking so much i drop the phone on the kitchen floor and before i can retrieve it the front window explodes in a shower of glass and the four dogs scramble inside.

All i can do is grab a knife off the counter and turn to face my fear ‘Alright motherfuckers bring it on’

They attack in silence and surround me in a vicious circle nipping at my ankles to bring me down.

I slash and cut with the knife and soon the Doberman and Bull Mastiff back off and retreat to lick their wounds so that leaves the Wolfhound and Daffodil.

The Wolfhound attacks from the front while Daffodil continues to worry my tendons and because they aren’t fully healed they snap and i collapse to the floor.

‘Holy shit’ I know i am now in a whole lot of trouble so i just thrust the knife back and forth hoping for the best but the Wolfhound manages to get a grip on my throat and shakes its head trying to finish me off.

I am losing a lot of blood and the knife slips in my hands but i manage to get a grip and i stab up and luckily the blade pierces the mongrels heart and it drops dead.

But in the commotion i had completely forgotten about Daffodil but she soon had my whole attention.

She has chewed through my left wrist and it hangs like puppet with broken strings.

The pain is unbearable and Daffodil runs around my prone body nipping and tearing at my flesh before she too moves in for the kill and bites down on my already destroyed throat.

‘No Daffodil stop’ I am barely conscious but before i surrender to my maker i see Ruby swing my walking stick and send Daffodil to hell .

Then my heart says enough is enough and the blackness takes hold.

It is Christmas and i have just got home from hospital where i stayed in the same room i had last time.

Ruby is looking after me and tending to my needs she has become a good neighbour and a great friend.

I sit in my wheelchair and listen to Ruby as she tells me again that the doctors gave me nine litres of blood and for a week it was touch or go if i would pull through.

I smile but don’t answer and not because i don’t want to but because i cant.

My throat is to badly damaged and the doctors have told me that in all likelihood i will never talk again.

But they managed to reattach my hand so at least i have one limb that works.

So i am sure that with a bit of rehab and some TLC i will be almost as good as new.

THE END

In the distance if you listen closely you can hear a menacing howl and it is getting closer.

Salvatore Salvatore’

21 Friday Jul 2017

Posted by in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

A bright red Ducati 848 pulls into a parking spot near a theatre on the corner of 31 st & broadway new york city.

Riding the machine is Salvatore Salvatore’ a ruthless hit man who will kill anyone if the price is right.

Salvatore revs the engine as he waits for his target to exit the theatre for intermission.He is a smoker so soon he will emerge for a nicotine fix.

 

As Salvatore waits he pulls a glock 3×4789 revolver from his jacket pocket and screws a silencer in place.

He doesn’t have to wait long because soon the theatre doors fly open and some of the patrons come rushing outside.

His target lights a cigarette and Salvatore recognises him right away,he guns his bike and inches forward in the traffic.

When he is level with the mark he raises his arm and fires a single shot into the forehead of his victim.

Then he gives his ducati full throttle and disappears into the night

 

At home a few hours later Salvatore is relaxing at home waiting for an email to arrive to confirm the hit and payment into his overseas account.

And an hour later he is $ 100,000 richer and proud of a job well done.

 

Salvatore is 42 years old 6′ 2” tall weighing 180 pounds with black wavy hair and an athletic build he likes to wear hand made italian suits with gucci shoes.

He could be a banker or an accountant on their way to work but he is anything but,he also has the ability to blend in with the background nobody notices him he is the ghost that walks.

 

Salvatore is riding his ducati around manhattan taking in the sites when his cellphone vibrates in his pocket.

Someone else needs killing.

He parks his bike near central park and has a seat on a bench and starts to read the email from his boss.

The client is a Mrs Anne Bartelli who is tired of her husbands womanising and she wants him gone.

She will pay $ 150,000 if her husband suffers a slow and agonising death.

Salvatore prefers to kill nice and quick but for that type of money he will do what the client requires.

 

A week later he arrives at the Bartelli household dressed as a plumber and knocks on the door.

A middle aged man answers ‘Yes how can i help you?’ Salvatore answers ‘ Mr Bartelli? I am hear to fix your leaking toilet’

Bartelli starts to answer when Salvatore pulls his glock from his toolbox and tells his target to step back inside and Salvatore follows him in.

 

Salvatore ties Bartelli naked to a chair with a sock stuffed into his mouth and gets to work.

And for the next hour Salvatore goes about his business with a minimum of fuss.Using every tool in his toolbox he inflicts more pain than any human can handle and thankfully Bartelli loses consciousness.

Salvatore decides that enough is enough and quickly finishes the job and slices Bartelli’s neck open from ear to ear.

Then he packs up his toolbox and leaves without being seen.

 

But he has been seen.

Upstairs looking through the railings is a five year girl too stunned to make a sound.

Little Emily was supposed to go to school today but she talked her daddy into taking her to the zoo instead.

Now she is so traumatised she cant move a muscle as she watches her daddies killer walk out the door.

 

For the next decade Salvatore has performed over a dozen more murders earning himself a lot of money.

And with a savvy business mind and investments Salvatore now has more money than he could ever dream of.

So he treats himself to a porsche and large yacht that he approporiately names ‘Salvatore”

 

While Salvatore has been making his millions Emily Bartelli has been in and out of institutions.

She is still so traumatised that she hasn’t uttered a word since witnessing her fathers murder ten years ago.

 

Today Emily is walking along the jetty towards the waters of hudson bay.As she walks she admires all of the boats moored at the marina.

And she remembers the times that her father used to take her fishing out in the bay.She smiles to herself for a second as she remembers the good times.

Than her she looks over to a boat called ‘Salvatore” and the man tending the sails.He looks vaguely familiar.

Than her heart starts to palpitate.Surely her eyes aren’t playing tricks on her.

It has to be the same man.The man who killed her father.

 

 

Emily emits a low growl from her throat and utters the first word that she has uttered in ten years ‘murderer’.

She silently climbs aboard the ‘Salvatore’ and launches herself at the killer

 

Salvatore senses movement behind and turns around,but a second too late.He is hit hard and his feet get tangled in the ropes and he and his attacker both land in the water.

 

Salvatore desperately tries to free himself from the ropes and his attacker but he is losing the battle.And after a few minutes he breathes his last breath.

 

Emily holds on to the killer and watches as his eyes glaze over.She smiles to herself she is happy now.So she lets go and slowly sinks to the bottom.

Now she and her father are together once again.

 

In the house where Emil’s father was killed a lonely widow sits weeping.

Because of her spite she has lost her daughter.

She has lost everything.

 

 

THE END

 

 

 

I Cut

04 Sunday Jun 2017

Posted by in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

I cut myself this morning.

I cut myself deep.

My skin starts to tingle.

And my demons start to creep.

 

I cut a little deeper.

And i kind of like the pain.

I stare into my bathroom mirror.

And i cut myself again.

 

My cutting tool of choice.

Is a sharp little pocket knife.

I cut because i am always afraid.

My knife is my one and only friend.

I will cut until the bitter end.

 

I cut myself one more time.

And a line of blood appears on my face.

I look into my mirror.

But i stare into space.

 

I cut a little deeper.

And hope that my memories will disappear.

My blood runs down my face.

And mingles with my tears.

 

I don’t usually cut my face.

But my life has become a living hell.

I had to deal with a lot of people.

And i don’t do that well.

 

I cut myself again.

With my trusty little blade.

And i watch my blood flow.

I love my fucking knife.

It gets me through my life.

 

I know that i am a huge failure.

I never do anything right.

I try my best but it is never good enough.

Why do i even get out of bed.?

Who is that person living in my head?

 

My favourite colour is blue.

So why do i like blood so much?

Just a little nick.

And i feel some pleasure.

A pleasure that cuts through the pain.

I  feel some sort of release.

Some well earned peace.

 

A few of my friends at work.

Asked me about the cuts on my face.

I told them that i got scratched by my neighbours cat.

They laughed ‘Was it a fucking tiger?’

I tried to laugh with them.

But i could barely manage a smile.

While beneath the table i fondle my trusty blade of steel.

Only my knife knows how i feel.

 

I cut for the first time when i was thirteen.

I thought i was just your normal schoolboy

But the other kids thought different.

And they let me know in no uncertain terms.

I was constantly on my guard.

With a belly full of worms.

 

I was called names had my hair pulled

And some of the other kids even spat on my face.

That is when i retreated into my mind.

And went to a better place.

 

So i bought myself a pocket knife.

And started to cut.

The best places to cut.

Was my inner arms and thighs.

I cut and cut with silent cries.

 

When i was fourteen.

I was brutalised so much at school i could barely

function.

I struggled home a broken little boy.

The other kids had taken all of my joy.

 

That night i ran myself .

To try to drown away my sorrows.

As i washed myself my eyes were drawn to my fathers razor

sitting on the edge of the tub.

I picked it up and gave it a tender rub.

 

The razor was a wilkerson sword of unknown vintage.

Old and rusty but sharp just the same.

As i held that razor.

I heard it calling my name.

 

One deep cut.

And all of my pain would be gone.

But o couldn’t do it.

I didn’t want my parents to find me in a bath full

of blood.

 

So i just gave myself a shallow cut.

And marvelled at the drops of red.

I smiled at the sight.

And toddled off to bed.

 

I cut because i feel like it.

I cut because i can.

I cut to free myself.

I cut to be a better man.

 

They say that the first cut is the deepest.

But my deepest cut is yet to come.

It might be tomorrow or the day after that.

But my deepest cut will be one day very soon.

Of that i can give you a guarantee.

So listen really well.

Because this is my final plea.

I CUT.

 

 

 

 

THE END.

Nasty Piece Of Work

18 Saturday Feb 2017

Posted by in poems, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , ,

I live the lifestyle of the rich and famous.

Even though i have no money of my own.

I am 37 years old now and i haven’t worked a day

in my life.

I eat the rich and lay around all day.

Why should i work when other people can pay my way?

 

I was born under a full moon on Friday the 13th 1981.

My parents have told me that i was born bad.

And that i have been an arsehole ever since.

But i don’t care what other people think.

I just do what i please.

I just chop and chop until i bring them to their knees.

 

My devious ways got worse when i started school.

When i had a hundred other kids to pick clean.

They never knew what was happening.

I used every trick in the book to line my pockets.

I cheated at marbles and used stand over tactics.

 

And soon my pockets were overflowing with their lunch money.

And sometimes i even ate their lunch as well.

School can be good but i made it a living hell.

 

At high school i didn’t worry about playing games to get money.

I just used my fists and size to get what i wanted.

But fighting is hard work i used to work up a sweat.

Why couldn’t my family have money and live in the right

neighbourhood.

But y’know i kind of like being bad.

Fuck being good.

 

I have become a despised little jerk.

A real nasty piece of work.

 

After i finished school i was at a bit of a loose end.

I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I could get a job and make an honest living.

Or i could lay around smoking some weed.

Thinking of ways to spend other peoples money.

Why should i have to go to work and get my hands dirty.

My goal is to stay unemployed and retire when i am thirty.

 

At sixteen my hormones are raging

So i started to check out the local girls.

And they were giving me the loving eye.

But i knew that i had to aim higher if i was to reach my

objective.

Which is to make a lot of money without a lot of effort.

So i caught a bus (without paying) all the way to Caulfield

Heights.

Where all the rich people live.

I am all about taking i never fucking give.

 

They say love conquers all

But all i want is sex and some easy cash.

I just hope that i don’t end up with and empty wallet and a nasty

little rash.

 

At the local mall i take a seat in a coffee shop and wait for my prey.

And soon enough a girl walks in dressed up like a movie star.

She will do nicely.

She takes a seat across from me all ripe for the picking.

I give her my lovey dovey eyes a she smiles back .

She has taken the bait hook line and sinker.

And pretty soon we are sitting close together.

I move in for the kill hell bent for leather.

 

She tells me that her name is Cindy and that her family owns

half of the town.

And she offers to buy me a cup of coffee.

Well Cindy will pay for the coffee and a whole lot more.

I am going to reach into for soul and pull on her heart strings.

And i will not stop until the fat lady starts to sing.

 

I lean in close and tell Cindy a sob story.

About how i was kicked out of home and how i am struggling

to land on my feet.

Cindy sits there with her mouth open swallowing every word.

I cant believe this girl is so gullible

She offers to buy me lunch and provide a shoulder to lean on.

How can i refuse such an offer?

I eat and eat until i am ready to burst.

Just like a vampire with insatiable thirst.

 

I really am a jerk

A nasty piece of work.

 

Only sixteen and already i am on the road to ruin.

I don’t even try to be good.

Words tumble from Cindy’s mouth but i barely listen.

I am only interested in myself.

I just want to fill my pockets with ill gotten gains.

Who gives a shit for other peoples thoughts or pain?

 

Cindy is a sweet girl.

She deserves someone better than me.

I have’t listened to a word she has said.

All i want is to get my hands on her money

I will beg borrow or steal and bleed her dry.

I will leave nothing behind but an empty shell

Hello Cindy welcome to my hell.

 

Cindy stands up and says she has to visit the bathroom.

So why don’t i pay the bill whilst she is away.

She hands me her credit card and i go to the counter to pay.

But than i have second thoughts.

I walk out of the door and keep on walking.

 

As i walk down the street i reach into my pocket and pull out

a razor sharp switchblade knife.

Cindy will never know how close she came to dying today.

This time i gave her a break.

But the next time i want be so fucking nice.

Someone in my travels is going to pay a very heavy price.

 

So keep an eye out.

Because i could be headed your way.

If you see me coming.

Run as fast as you can

I really am a jerk.

A nasty piece of work.

 

 

THE  END.