My old stories - Quicksand Suicide

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Chimerix
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My old stories - Quicksand Suicide

Postby Chimerix » Sat Apr 29, 2023 9:20 pm

Congratulations, you found it! You’ll probably end up regretting it, but try and enjoy your victory for the moment. This letter is why you’re here.

I knew that eventually you would come. Someone had to notice I’m missing. Is it you, Howard? You pathetic fuck. Your cologne stinks, your combover isn’t fooling anyone, and the way you make excuses to touch the waitresses sickens everyone there. If you weren’t so old, they’d have fired you long ago! “Protected class” my ass… you’re just a sick fuck!

Or is it you, Mr. Ryan? Did you wait the 90 days stipulated by law since I missed my first rent check? No, you didn’t, and now you’re stuck! You can’t not call the cops, because if they found out you were here and you didn’t call, you’d be fucked! Serves you right. Your prize is having to deal with disposing of my shit. You always were one pain in the ass!

No, I bet you’re a cop. That’s more reasonable. Someone found my truck out there in the middle of the nowhere and reported it, right? And here you are. No one came to the door, no one answered the phone, and the neighbors haven’t seen any activity for too long, so you got that dick Ryan to let you in. The good news is, you’re about to solve the case!

Where am I? Don’t rush me. It’s MY story, not yours.

Take a look at the shelves near the VCR, inside the plain brown boxes. Yeah, the ones under the old newspapers. Look in there. I’ll wait.

Are you shocked? Excited? Disgusted? Did you EVEN FUCKING LOOK YET?

Those movies, those images, those are what I’ve been living for. My fetish, my perversion. My sickness. Night after night, glued to that screen, rewinding over and over again to watch my favorite models sink to their deaths. There’s probably over $2,000 worth of tapes, DVDs and CDs in those boxes.

Maybe you’re like me, nursing this secret desire, and thinking “I wish I could take these home.” Take ‘em. They’re yours. Maybe it’ll work out better for you.

Maybe you’re like the rest of THEM. Repulsed, sickened, aghast at the idea anyone could find pleasure in something so twisted. Let me encourage you to take these tapes, and try to sell them on eBay. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at the result, and you’ll be able to sit there and feel superior as you take money from these freaks.

I wish I had something new, something original to say. I wish my reason wasn’t so damn conformist, but it is. I’m lonely. So very, very lonely. Spurned one time too many by the objects of my desires. I want to take refuge in the one thing that has never failed to provide me pleasure.

If you look in the kitchen, you’ll see the refrigerator dismantled, and the compressor missing (FUCK YOU, RYAN!) I’ve also taken a concrete planter I stole from the Hooters parking lot (FUCK YOU, HOWARD!) I’m driving out to the old sand quarry. Once there, I’m lashing these heavy things to my waist, and dragging them across the sand. It’s been raining all week… I understand that they don’t dare run the heavy machinery until the runoff has stopped. If I remember correctly, they lost an entire Caterpillar out there a few years ago!

If they never found that Cat, then I wish you the best of luck in finding me!
The difference between theory and reality is that, in theory, there is no difference between theory and reality.

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