TKnC Welcomes Emmanuel with...
Revenge is a Dish Best Served With a Cold Beer
Red brought a chainsaw to work and decided to cut the boss's head off after lunch. Maybe he’d hack the fucking secretary into pieces too. Why stop there? He would just work his way through the building and carve them up at random along the way. They were all a bunch of shits anyway and they would get what they deserved. He put the chainsaw in a guitar case to keep it disguised. It was going to be a grand time at the office today, he thought with a grin.
When he got to work that morning, curious co-workers asked what the guitar was for. He told everyone that he was going to play some music later. Someone asked if they could see it, and he had to think quickly, couldn’t let anyone blow it for him. He said, “Nope. I never let anyone see my axe before a performance.”
At his desk, Red logged onto the network and browsed the Internet. He made a post on his blog about how pissed he was at the system and everybody in it. He fucking hated the world. He was a self-professed cynical misanthrope and fuck anyone that tried to argue. Screw all the assholes and let them fucking rot, that was Red’s final thought on the whole thing. At the end of the blog post he said he was going to get even by making hamburger out of everyone, grill them up and serve them with a side of pickles, tomato, onion, lettuce and mayo, and eat them with some Bush’s baked beans and a cold beer. It was a joke, of course, but after a while it began to sound like a good idea. He was getting hungry anyway. Maybe they could have an early al fresco lunch out back at the company picnic table.
Carl, the company computer guy, came over to Red’s cubicle and stood with his arms crossed, foot tapping a tattoo on the floor, as he looked at the computer screen.
“What ya up to?” Carl inquired.
“What’s it look like?” Red replied.
“It looks like you’re wasting company time on the Internet,” Carl said, examining his cuticles. “You know that’s against company policy.”
“Yeah, I know that,” Carl said, grinding his teeth. “So what’s it to you? Why do you care?”
“It’s my job to monitor the computers and the users,” Carl said, leaning on the cubicle. “And you are a user on a company computer . . . so that means you’re in my domain. I’m going to have to file a report.”
“You know what?” Red said. “It just so happens that I’ve got a surprise for everyone today. I was going to save it until after lunch . . . but you’ve convinced me that there is no better time than the present.”
“A surprise?” Carl said.
Red picked up the guitar case and set it on the desk. “I’m going to play everyone a song.”
“How nice,” Carl said sarcastically.
Red opened the guitar case and pulled out the chainsaw. Carl’s eyes bulged in horror as Red yanked the starter chord and the chainsaw rumbled and sputtered to life. Red revved the throttle and the chainsaw screamed and growled, hissing and puffing out clouds of oily blue smoke.
“What the hell—” Carl began, but was quickly silenced when Red hacked into his neck and chopped off his head. Blood and shredded meat splattered Red’s face and the walls of his cubicle.
It was complete chaos and pandemonium as Red chopped through the cubicles and lopped off heads and limbs as he went. Screams and shouts of terror harmonized with the chainsaw roar echoing through the office building in a diabolical cacophony. Red was oblivious to any pleas for mercy. Blood ran in streams and pooled on the floor. The boss came out to see what was causing the commotion and his eyes widened in terror as Red descended upon him, swinging the chainsaw like a samurai warrior, slashing, chopping, grinding, and whittling the corpse limb from limb.
The massacre lasted only for a few minutes and no one could escape. Red was too quick and too pissed off to let anyone go free and he had blocked all the doors in advance. Each of the co-workers became meat and offal as Red carved them up like a master butcher.
After everyone was dead, Red went out the back exit into the lounge area and fired up the gas barbecue grill. He slapped four generous ground meat patties onto the grill and cooked them to medium rare. He took a pilsner beer from the boss’s stash in the refrigerator and sat down at the picnic table and dined contentedly on the hamburgers. It was a fine day after all. The sun was shining on his face and his stomach was full. The beer was exquisite. He would sit and savor the moment as he waited for the authorities to arrive. Things couldn’t have worked out better, he thought with a satisfied grin as he popped the cap off another cold beer.
BIO:
I was born on February 18th 1970 in Aberdeen, Washington. I lived in Alaska for about 10 years and I now reside in Martinsville, Indiana. I have been writing fiction and poetry since I was 15 years old, which is more than half of my life, and have always loved the magic of a well told story, especially those that go bump in the night. Visit my website at: www.emmanuelpaige.com.
When he got to work that morning, curious co-workers asked what the guitar was for. He told everyone that he was going to play some music later. Someone asked if they could see it, and he had to think quickly, couldn’t let anyone blow it for him. He said, “Nope. I never let anyone see my axe before a performance.”
At his desk, Red logged onto the network and browsed the Internet. He made a post on his blog about how pissed he was at the system and everybody in it. He fucking hated the world. He was a self-professed cynical misanthrope and fuck anyone that tried to argue. Screw all the assholes and let them fucking rot, that was Red’s final thought on the whole thing. At the end of the blog post he said he was going to get even by making hamburger out of everyone, grill them up and serve them with a side of pickles, tomato, onion, lettuce and mayo, and eat them with some Bush’s baked beans and a cold beer. It was a joke, of course, but after a while it began to sound like a good idea. He was getting hungry anyway. Maybe they could have an early al fresco lunch out back at the company picnic table.
Carl, the company computer guy, came over to Red’s cubicle and stood with his arms crossed, foot tapping a tattoo on the floor, as he looked at the computer screen.
“What ya up to?” Carl inquired.
“What’s it look like?” Red replied.
“It looks like you’re wasting company time on the Internet,” Carl said, examining his cuticles. “You know that’s against company policy.”
“Yeah, I know that,” Carl said, grinding his teeth. “So what’s it to you? Why do you care?”
“It’s my job to monitor the computers and the users,” Carl said, leaning on the cubicle. “And you are a user on a company computer . . . so that means you’re in my domain. I’m going to have to file a report.”
“You know what?” Red said. “It just so happens that I’ve got a surprise for everyone today. I was going to save it until after lunch . . . but you’ve convinced me that there is no better time than the present.”
“A surprise?” Carl said.
Red picked up the guitar case and set it on the desk. “I’m going to play everyone a song.”
“How nice,” Carl said sarcastically.
Red opened the guitar case and pulled out the chainsaw. Carl’s eyes bulged in horror as Red yanked the starter chord and the chainsaw rumbled and sputtered to life. Red revved the throttle and the chainsaw screamed and growled, hissing and puffing out clouds of oily blue smoke.
“What the hell—” Carl began, but was quickly silenced when Red hacked into his neck and chopped off his head. Blood and shredded meat splattered Red’s face and the walls of his cubicle.
It was complete chaos and pandemonium as Red chopped through the cubicles and lopped off heads and limbs as he went. Screams and shouts of terror harmonized with the chainsaw roar echoing through the office building in a diabolical cacophony. Red was oblivious to any pleas for mercy. Blood ran in streams and pooled on the floor. The boss came out to see what was causing the commotion and his eyes widened in terror as Red descended upon him, swinging the chainsaw like a samurai warrior, slashing, chopping, grinding, and whittling the corpse limb from limb.
The massacre lasted only for a few minutes and no one could escape. Red was too quick and too pissed off to let anyone go free and he had blocked all the doors in advance. Each of the co-workers became meat and offal as Red carved them up like a master butcher.
After everyone was dead, Red went out the back exit into the lounge area and fired up the gas barbecue grill. He slapped four generous ground meat patties onto the grill and cooked them to medium rare. He took a pilsner beer from the boss’s stash in the refrigerator and sat down at the picnic table and dined contentedly on the hamburgers. It was a fine day after all. The sun was shining on his face and his stomach was full. The beer was exquisite. He would sit and savor the moment as he waited for the authorities to arrive. Things couldn’t have worked out better, he thought with a satisfied grin as he popped the cap off another cold beer.
BIO:
I was born on February 18th 1970 in Aberdeen, Washington. I lived in Alaska for about 10 years and I now reside in Martinsville, Indiana. I have been writing fiction and poetry since I was 15 years old, which is more than half of my life, and have always loved the magic of a well told story, especially those that go bump in the night. Visit my website at: www.emmanuelpaige.com.
Short, punchy, violent and gory, best way. Great piece Emmanuel.
ReplyDelete.....hmmm, think I'll avoid the BBQ I was going to this weekend....
ReplyDeleteExcellent introduction to your work, Emmanuel. Loved the double entendre prompted by the use of the word 'axe' ! ;-)
Definitely NOT subtle..way to start out bold and go for the gusto..Freddie Kruger and Chuckie have nothing on this guy..
ReplyDeleteJust another day at the office.
ReplyDeleteExcellent writing Emmanuel, loved it - straight in, no mucking about - pick 'em up and slash 'em down.
Welcome to TKnC.