Nothing fuck goodnight My window overlooks a small park. There are four wrought-iron benches and even if it is night clearly distinguish the woman lying on one of them. I do not know his name, but I know that is not sleeping, and although at first glance might seem an unfortunate swells of wine I know that it is not. That woman, who was to be my key to good night, she died two hours ago. You can rely on if I tell you.
I killed her.
I know. E ' awful, awful. Absolutely agree ...
But you say, you decide when suddenly your hand approaches the cheek to give you relief from itching?
Some things you can not control. Am I wrong?
do not choose my victims. They choose me. Fly like flies in a spider's web. I simply waited, bored like sluts, looking absently over the heads of others.
Sooner or later you are rewarded. How
tonight.
Even if things did not go the right way.
main rule. Always moving, never attending the same room more than once a week.
A couple of hours ago I was at the counter of Neu. Sincerely
I can not stand loud music, so I proposed to the girl I'd bet a few minutes before, and finally decided to approach - a pity for her cheekbones a bit 'too square - out in the open air. She followed me. At the entrance of the premises was not hard to convince her to accompany me to buy a pack of cigarettes.
The Neu is perfect. Isolated. Out of town. No one has ever pulled back if to reach the nearest tobacconist propose to make a jump in the car.
She drank a lot. When I drive stops talking when
... "Christ!"
Thrust suddenly his foot on the brake.
The machine slide on the asphalt wet, I approach cautiously on the side of the road. Like a stone thrown into the dashboard, I see the strong whip lashes. It looks like a drowning child.
"What was that?" He straightened in his seat, looking disoriented.
"An animal I know."
"I did not hear the blow ... Did you get in?"
"Sure." Unfasten your seat belt and open the car door.
"What are you doing?"
"I see it."
pretend to control lights and fender. There are no organic traces, or dents. I caress the body and observe what could be the blood of dogs. When she leans
head out the window his voice sounds sharp in the night calm:
"What?".
"I do not know ... There is blood. "
gets out and joins me in front of the hood hot. Property, fixed bugs blindly slamming against the glass of the lanterns.
"After all," I say. "I'm not so different from us."
"How?" The
trim a brutal fist on the temple el'afferro swoon in his arms. Then, after he sits on the tarmac, and choked with my own hands.
Another fundamental rule. Naturalness. Behave in a more casual as possible. I always do. Parking the car close to home, picking up the girl's body and I get in the elevator to my apartment.
Once, in front of the elevator, I met a man who looks at me and said: "Not the Same ... my wife is more behind it has a glass in his hand."
We laughed.
Get rid of a corpse is a task that requires attention to detail, but is not as problematic as many of you think. I look forward
. Le 04:12.
The park is deserted, and she's always there, dimly lit by the dim light of lanterns.
stationed near the entrance of the building, even the police car has not moved. I realized
of those sons of bitches as soon as I turned the way home.
are two. The agent has to drive three cigarettes smoked since I look at them.
now turns on the fourth and another little fellow down 'the window.
are there for me?
There's been some reporting?
I ran a terrible risk not to leave the girl in the car, but if the police had done a patrol noticed and receiving would be recovered from the plate to me. Also I had no other options to control it without effort from the third floor of the building. I'm sure of where are the cops can not see it. The view of that particular corner of the park is obstructed by a parked truck moving.
We can only wait for that shit be weighing the fuck out. If they were to find the girl while hovering Giardia almost certainly a mistake for the homeless and would pull ahead.
Prompted by an idea I decided to go to the phone. Dial the 113. I say I live in the Via Faenza, my parallel. I explain that the road has long been going on a raucous fight that keeps me awake. Informed me that immediately sent a patrol. Very good. Thank you and I go back to the window, hoping to see the car turn on headlights and engine, onto the street and turn left.
Of course none of this does not happen.
If you do not move them, I have to move.
I leave home. Trying to keep the calm of one who is going to rent a film exceeds the cops pretending not to notice them.
other side of the road is a bus stop. Those with the shed. I reach it, I sit and rest while waiting for a glimpse.
few minutes later if I do not understand what I see is a shadow gliding between the benches or a strange play of light produced by the trees.
hold my breath.
building, fixed the entrance to the garden. Wind
there is none. The air is flat.
Suddenly, a cough that seems out of the gorge eater, following a robust scaracchio which snaps on the cobbles as a blow birch. An old man with gross
not know what a bottle in his hand lingers under the beam of light from a lamp post and remains there for a few seconds, moving in a circular basin as if you were stretching for a match to hola hoop. Her face has the same yellowish color of nicotine-stained fingers.
Then he stops. Suddenly.
I know what he has seen the son of a bitch.
I can not do anything. I can not go there and groped to change his mind. Uninspired as it began to howl like a coyote with blisters in the ass by the police jump there in a flash. A
uncertain steps toward my girlfriend. He looks for a minute abundant. Eventually decides to shake her shoulder.
Believe they have found a more drunk than he. As expected
wastes no time. Quickly, stand a bully who is deciding whether to steal the candy from the supermarket, looking around with eyes off the skull.
to remove the dead woman's skirt and stockings takes less than to undo his belt, and happy as I was before seeing those morons in front of the house, which is mounted on a pleasure, not before they had had a hand soaked with saliva on the pussy.
A chic!
Then something is wrong in the right direction. The man hesitates, moves away and look between his legs and naked pale girl with a puzzled expression. Finally, as if turning a mattress, turns his back up and back to have it from behind.
After forty minutes of the solemn fuck beggar stands erect on his feet, picks up the bottle that had laid on the ground and dropped his pants he swallowed a long drink.
Met, before getting up his pants, turns the body in the position where he had found, perhaps anxious not to leave marks of his business. Give a burp in the night and leaves. At 6
are still in the shed. The sky has cleared now and from time to time, some sleepy pedestrian parade in front of me staring absently. Mostly older people who seem to have no idea where strascinare feet, forced to exit from the jaws of the buildings by the force of habit.
I even have the privilege to attend the first bus stop. Do not go down no, I do not go up and the driver starts scratching the march.
Half an hour after the traffic returns to plague the streets and finally the police, as if the sunlight could at any moment it is burned, it is detached from that piece of road.
cross the park, passing as close as possible to the bench and, without going too much, I look to the girl discovered sex.
honestly do not remember if she told me her name, but probably if I went to peek at his identity card, to discover that he had murdered a Gennaro, or Hector, whose limp dick timidly illuminated by the first light of day seems the April Fool's joke of a madman. The
killing a transsexual makes me feel sad and depressed. I have always respected their being on the margins of society. My best friend is a transexual and I really miss now that she moved to Frankfurt. Acute
as a corner, a cry of a young woman forced to turn sharply with the dog. The dog barks, but the leash throttling.
I shoot straight. Certainly some lady came across the lifeless obscenity of the park. I imagine that within a few minutes the area will be more turmoil in a multiplex. With the projected
mind about where to hunt from midnight onwards (the Waves? The Double Dare?) Pull out the keys to the door and peek into the newspapers as usual the newspaper. I go up for easier reading: "Players' threat. Asked for and obtained residence under escort at night. "
the middle of the page, in color, the picture of my building and a police car.
At home I go to the window with the thought that tomorrow I will have to be seriously committed to seeking a new home. A man without a hobby is a broken man.
A group of people surrounded the park bench and a man in a suit and tie, talking animatedly on the phone. Perhaps with the police. A child points his finger flaccid member of the body pulling the mother to the suit. The truck
Relocation has not moved.
the dark I had not noticed. Some funny guy has smeared the side of the van with a red spray of cubital N describing the company in moving to transsexuals.
Maybe, I think, if I think about the translocation De Lieto to restore the morality of their neighborhood.
