Thursday, December 13, 2007

The Way Of Steel

"I will have died a thousand times and it will still not be enough for me to forget"

-- Based on pure fiction and non-homicidal behavior. Any resemblance to modern day events are your own personal thoughts and being the open minded writer that I am I will leave them as just that. Your thoughts. --

Two Years Ago
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Christmas Eve is a time for families and loved ones. Strange how societal norms are merely just phrases conjured up by some drunk individual who sounded philosophical while drinking eggnog and making out with his partner for the night. These are the thoughts that run through my mind as the Katana in my left hand awaits its usefulness in my goal for the night.

Four Years Ago
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My name is not important. Neither are the names of my wife or her secret lover. I realized all this two years ago when I found out that she had been cheating on me. I still remember the smell of the roses I had picked up from O'Hare, the cab ride home, the sound of gravel crunching beneath my new Hugo Boss shoes and last but not least the sight of her making out with him in my kitchen with the windows open for the world to see. However, the realization that my marriage was in the gutter was something I had felt a year into my marriage. What consumed me that day was far more dangerous and more vicious than the simple pain that a loved one feels when betrayal is thrown in their face. Instead, I watched them with the hope that I would be noticed and the entire episode would unfold into a shouting contest with a few apologies thrown in to make it seem plausible that any remorse was felt. What greeted me however, was them running across my kitchen (yes, my kitchen) and then into the living room and finally upstairs. I looked down at the gravel beneath me and remembered how she had told me that it was less of a burden on me had I hired a professional to do it. A tear rolled down my cheek as I watched my entire marriage unfold before me in the ocean that allowed my cornea to see the outside world. I had returned home early with the intention of surprising her but I guess there were things that even I was not prepared for. I swallowed what was left of my emotions and left my house.

My walk back to my watch retail store, which i owned, seemed more tiring than the time I had taken her on a hiking trip in the Himalayas. It had been her dream ever since she was a child to go on that trip. My physical prowess matched that of a 10 year old but I managed to get a trainer and move my way up the ladder so that she could get the dream she always wanted. It was in the cold air that the Nepalese found like a summer walk in Manhattan that she transformed from my girlfriend to my wife. I sat at my desk and pondered on all the wrongs I must have done to her for me to deserve the punishment I had just been dealt. She was monetarily taken care of by everything I could possibly muster from the bank and my personal savings. She had stopped making love to me because she felt that it was something we needed to chalk out during the week. Yet, I loved her ...

It was in the dark confines of my watch repair cubicle that my mind snapped internally and the rest can only be coined as Focussed Insantiy.

Three Years Ago
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Its been almost a year since I had my visual episode on my front yard. Since then, I have joined a Kubodo arts club and picked Kendo as my desired martial art of choice. I have even graduated to a level that my instructor stated,can only be reached by sheer devotion to my craft. What happened to my wife and her secret lover you ask? Nothing. I simply wiped my tears drank some whiskey and brushed it all off as if I had just watched Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet go at it again and putting the television off ended all my anguish. I have been on a cardio program that now allows me to run for 45 minutes non-stop without breaking a sweat. My wife continually asks me why I keep cleaning the house with the maid but I tell her that I am a man who enjoys the minute intricacies and so I like helping my non-english-speaking maid clean the house, the overpaid bitch. The only thing my wife does not complain about is the large pieces of meat I buy every week and chop into small pieces with the precision of a master chef. Her eyes only light up when she sees me clinically tear a whole animal into pieces so fine and so perfect that the meal cooked after seems like a formality of the process. I have also learned that her secret lover, who she still sees, works as a real estate agent and that he lives alone. How perfect. My work in the watch shop has allowed me the pleasure of meeting many people, one of whom is a clay pot maker. He has even lent me the keys to his garage and the use of his kiln that he uses to blast fire his pots for glazing. I have even started reading my newspaper on the porch with a notepad to study the everyday movements of my neighborhood and all this is neatly fed into a Microsoft Excel sheet that I then use to understand trends.My wife has repeatedly asked me to buy her a car but I have refused on the grounds that I like driving and can easily take time out of my day for her to get her to any destination of her choice. My reading has improved and my understanding of the human anatomy is now almost at par with most average medical practitioners. The only flaw in my entire work this year is my inability to twist my Katana effectively with one hand. Patience will get me to where I need to be.

Two Years Ago
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Its almost time. I look at my Swatch Irony watch and think of the actual irony of a well-renouned watch-maker wearing an average watch. I smile to myself in the night light as I start to make my way up to the bedroom. My wife has developed the interesting habit of being blindfolded as she makes love to her secret-Casanova. I walk into the bedroom and slowly sneak up on him and he starts moaning with her. I want there to be no pain just guilt. I drive my blade into his back and out his front. The edge of the blade strikes my wife as I climb over her mute lover who is now choking on his own blood and push harder into her stomach. With absolute clinical ease and firm resolute I twist the blade in clockwise fashion and similarly do the opposite. She is now choking too but I must not let joy flood my mind, focus is needed. I take out a smaller knife and stab him in the left side of his stomach pulling down to gut him like so many Salmon I have done before. My wife gets the premier treatment when I stab her in neck. Three and a half minutes. I am ahead of schedule. I had the bedroom made with a carpet that I had personally installed for reasons of replacement. I had even asked the person that I bought the carpet from whether I could get some more material for replacement at an earlier date. He happily obliged when I showed him the money; thank you. I begin taking them off the bed and pull the blindfold off my wife's eyes. I bring up the cleaver I have kept in the kitchen and begin dicing them into little pieces. Forty minutes, I have two minutes of breathing time. I remove a garbage bag I had placed in our closet and simply place all the chopped pieces in there. The next part of the plan has to work according to statistics and sheer luck. I open my backdoor and take a survey of the yard, not a soul in sight. I place both the four bags in my car and drive to my friends house to use his kiln. Its amazing how easily bones will burn when the right amount of heat is applied. It takes approximately an hour to get all of it done before I get my vaccuum cleaner and scoop it all up. I open my car window and simply let all the dust out letting my tired face break a smile for the first time in the night. I reach home and replace the carpet along with the bedding and the mattress as well which has a layer of orthopedic material above it to make the blade stop just in time. I then begin to hum 'Jingle Bells' to myself as I begin doing what me and the maid have been practicing for almost two years now; thank you. After everything is done, I chop the matress into little pieces as well and put all the garbage into bags that fill the back of my car. One more trip to my friends place and this all can end.

Christmas Day and after
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I wake up at 9:00 AM and call the police stating that my wife never came home the night before and all her cellphone is not reachable. The police start an investigation into the matter only to turn up with no conclusive evidence stating that she was murdered. I begin to cry just like all the victims I had watched over the two years and almost exactly like the videos I had made of myself and watched over and over to make sure my final act went as planned. I state that she cannot be dead and must be missing. I even stay at the police station for four days just to make it all believable, what a waste of time. I spend my New Years at home sitting in the dark and feeling absolutely nothing. Tomorrow starts the rest of my life and the two years that will come with me finally being able to enjoy what I have done.

Two Years Late - Himalayas
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The Sherpa I meet tells me that I am going to have one of the best trips I have ever had. I have to agree. I open my flask and down the most expensive brandy I could afford to put in it and smile. We trek some distance and he tells me that we need to camp for the night. I simply agree and ask him if he would like a drink. He refuses and says that he will take some later. I step out of my tent and in the cold crisp air of Nepal, I take a swig and start to cry uncontrollably. It feels good to let out tears that should have hit my hand-worked granite floor six years ago.

Music listened to when writing this blog - The sound of crickets
Mood - As normal as can be
Reason for writing this blog - I wanted to end my writing in this blog today and move onto another blog but I figured that its better to stay here and keep the fire burning. It's my work and no one is taking it away from me with words ever again. I want to thank everyone who reads this blog for their comments over the last few months and no I am not crazy or sad I just wanted to write something that resembled my work over the last few months and what it now means to me. Thank you all. Merry Xmas.