Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts

June 13, 2009

Ha...More

So...I've not done this for a while...so...sorry.
But I promise to be comin back...honest. I just...dunno.
So, I'm starting a new series of postings called ~Build a Puzzle~ It'll be like watching paint dry...but with PUZZLES!
Cause I can...that's why.
But basically I'm going ot be doing a puzzle, and putting up pics of progress...maybe even the pieces...to do whatever...I dunno...
I'm just trying to keep sane.

February 13, 2009

In a way...this is bull****

Since in general I've lot all but a passing interest in the government, and how it works, and of course, who's nailing which intern in which broom closet.
But even I in my total lack of giving a damn have noticed this weird coalition of the willing...to do nothing.
A majority of Republicans (all except three) have decided their time is better spent jacking each other off than actually getting work done. Each continues to pontificate on national television saying how wrong the bill is. How there isn't enough this and too much of that. One even found away of being a hypocrite in a single sentence, saying that there is too much spending in the bill, and saying that they should have kept his amendment which would "enhance" the military budget. Now, he's not an idiot, he was smart enough to use "enhance" to mean, "give it more money".
Of course you also have people yelling "SPENDING BILL" and the president has said, "Well, duh." And since there is almost no shame attached to it with the president, why do they keep screaming it? because they think the people of the country don't know the difference and just get pissing over "SPENDING!"
And there's more! Several Senators, even a really old one, has said that the president has refused to be bi-partisan on the bill. Now...What are they smoking, and where can I get some? The president has gone to visit them several times, invited them over to the white house several times. He has tried to have the billed changed to appease them. So...who doesn't call that bi-partisan? Political posturing ***wipes who want to control everything.
Deep breath...There's still more.
Recent random bull**** thing they're saying is that the president doesn't support the bill because....wait for it...he didn't author the bill himself. HA HA! well it's true, he didn't author the bill. And good for him, cause if he did, the bill would be illegal, and he could get thrown out of office for it. See, fun fact about our government, the president doesn't write bills, or laws. Congress does. So this non-point of el Presidente not writing the bill is well...a non-point.

In a way, this is all just bull****. of course, in many ways it is. Infact, in all ways it's Bull.

So what should you do? Well, I'm not here to tell you what to do. I'm just here to bitch.

January 28, 2009

Words that Suck

Well, okay, phrases that suck. This is one of those tired lists of random shit that everyone stopped caring about the moment they got annoying. Which surprisingly is just about immediately after they are uttered. This is a growing list...so I'll probably post it again, or make a widgetie thing...maybe...Of course I will provide why they suck...and why anyone who utters them should be thrown out.

"Big (blank)" - Insert huge amorphous being here. Anything from Big Oil, to Big Banks, to Big Three, to Big Science (Ohhh yes I have seen that uttered). If you have to call it big, then you're most likely retarded. You've bestowed way to much power upon these entities and have proven to us all you have no idea what you're talking about, or even what is going on in the real world.

"Drinking the Kool-aid" - This phrase really makes no sense. Two ways this comes in. One referring to the mass suicide in Jonestown, the other referring to the Merry Pranksters, which handed out LCD laced Kool-aid. I challenge you to figure out which this is referring to, because I sure as hell don't. That in and of itself is reason why this phrase should never be thought again, it gets even better.
It is used as a blanket retort against an opposition. Instead of creating viable arguments, that can be discussed, one side calls the other "Kool-aid drinkers", essentially dismissing them as wide-eyed fanatics, and walks away. If your side is reduced to calling the other side wide-eyed fanatics, you probably should be looking in a mirror.

Obama words - I like our president I do. But Obamacans(cins?), Republicans supporting Obama, was a stupid thing to say, or even come up with. I'd let that slide, and just be happy. but now...jesus. Obamabots, Nobama, Obamassiah...Frankly it's stupid. Yes we are all proud that you can make someone's name into something else and be slightly clever. Yay. But this has gotten out of hand. It's stupid. Stop it. NO ONE CARES! Okay...so I have no reason to outlaw this...I just hate it.

Lists - Okay...not words, but collection of words/phrases. Why does everyone think we care about the top ten this or that. And I know the hypocrisy of what I'm doing, and I don't give a crap. I'm a hypocrite...so sue me. But that's not the point. Lists are showing up all over the place. top ten things to bring to a party. top ten things you shouldn't do at a party. top ten things you should serve at a party. Next it'll be top ten ways to kill a man and not get caught.

That's all I've really got at the moment..I'm a little drunk...HUNGOVER...and can't think straight. But please, do feel free to post other words or phrases that should never be uttered again

January 19, 2009

Am I evil?

I know I have a bit of a reputation of being an argumentative asshole. I enjoy a good argument, I feel that through an argument, a discussion, a debate that truth will come out, and that it is the only way to come out. Recently I had a discussion with someone on another blog, to be frank it was about Warren giving the invocation at the inauguration. I would like to say I will keep my own opinions of this matter to myself, and go further that most of my discussion is that of a devil's advocate to him being there...
This is the transcript (incase it isn't to obvious, I'm random):

Random said...

Not to get too involved in the pissing match between DCM and Fred, but both of your initial arguments are flawed.
DCM assumes that because Obama has a paster, who has almost nothing to do with the way Obama will run his white house, is an example of how Obama will run his white house. He also assumes because Obama has no openly gay member of cabinet (i believe that is what he said) that it means he is against gay rights. He expresses that his actions speak louder than words.
Truth be told, neither the pastor or his cabinet choices are a reflection of what he intends to do about gay issues. Until he actually does something with gay issues in office, then you can say
whether he's all talk or not. (P.S. He wouldn't have gotten elected if he ran on a pro-gay marriage platform. look at California for evidence)
And Fred, you're just being pissy, and arrogant, and changing your argument all over the place. A phd and being a lawyer doesn't make you smart, it makes you a hard worker, there is a difference. Unfortunately your argument is lacking in basic substance.



DCM in FL
RANDOM

thanx for the comment.

your assumptions on what I believe are offbase, but your ending part where you say:

"Truth be told, neither the pastor or his cabinet choices are a reflection of what he intends to do about gay issues. Until he actually does something with gay issues in office, then you can say
whether he's all talk or not. (P.S. He wouldn't have gotten elected if he ran on a pro-gay marriage platform. look at California for evidence)"

those I am in agreement with you, and that is the crux of the dilemma now

waiting for actions that speak louder than words & symbolic gestures...

as for your comment on FRED's 'arguments', well I could not agree more...

I am only defending myself from repeated needless personal attacks from you know who [starts with an F]
January 19, 2009 8:02 PM
Random said...

You have fred...I've read your argument..you're changing it subtly as you go along. It's quite good actually, becuase to someone who just glances doesn't see it.

I agree with your original point, defending Obama on gay issues. but you've gone about it all wrong. Obama has done nothing at all as president to disenfranchise gays. The only thing that comes close are the bitchie whiners about Warren. He gives an open prayer. just that...a prayer. He isn't going to attack the gays on stage, and if he does, he'll be totally screwed. That aside, Warren isn't apart of Obama's cabinet, so i can't even come close to saying Obama shares his views. So why are we acting like Warren is an embodiment of Obama?


Random said...

DCM -
Well, i apologize if i read into what you said wrong, I may have transposed what you said, with others on this commenting board who have expressed that in more certain terms about Warren being a reflection of Obama.

I have taken the stance that I shall not judge Obama on who he has picked, (mainly because I'm young and inexperienced) but i will wait to see what he does when he becomes president. I voted for him because I believed him to be smart and capable, and able to do things I could not. And if he is a disappointment to me, I will say so instead of defending him. But...I shall watch first, to see what he does.

But that's just me.

And I would agree with you about Fred, but you're acting much like him too. No offense intended



DCM in FL said...

RANDOM

because Obama had a choice of THOUSANDS of deserving clerics for this most symbolic appointment to give the one & only Inaugural Invocation

think Billy Graham - by his being chosen to given mutliple Invocations, he became de facto 'pastor to the nation' & then to the world as it was percieved

the CHOICE & TIMING & SYMBOLISM is what galls, not the outreach which would be admirable on any other day or occassion

that is a form of action on the part of Barack

and by Obama choosing mostly old pols like Gates & Panetta to fill his cabinet - exactly where is the real change we were told was a'comin' ???

I am taking a wait & see & must remain vigilant & be more skepitical until his actions do speak louder than words

yes, Obama might not have won IF he still publicly supported gay marriage [which Barack is on the record as supporting in the 90's before it 'matterred'

but wrongs/Warren/Jakes do not make 'wrights'....


DCM in FL said...

RANDOM

see, I completely understand why Obama chose Warren [as well as Hill & Gates et al]

but that is the same old same old as was done through political history

Warren on stage is a brilliant long-term strategy to marginalize the evangelical opposition, granted

BUT the tactic has immediate consequences & at what cost to his core ? plus it makes him appear to be pandering no matter how you slice it because we know he is not a true believer... don't we ???

he went to Baptist church this Sunday - and we know he is no Baptist either [at least not yet...]

now he chooses to go listen to TD Jakes preach [another mega-church evangelical] tomorrow morning just before he stands on stage with Rick Warren & encourages him to pray for the nation...

that is too much emphasis on appeasing the evangelicals on Inauguration day at the expense of all others...

I still support him, but much softer & leery until he proves himself worthy through action & advocacy with impact


Random said...

Well, I doubt the pool is a thousand deep, because i'm pretty sure they aren't picking the pastor working in middle of no where Texas, but that's not really an argument.

I have the thought that Obama may be thinking of something besides just A issue in his choice of Warren. From what I under stand Warren has done some good in the world. And if you look at it, Obama and Warren share a lot of the same traits. maybe as a person, Obama likes Warren, who also from what i'm told, is a decent guy.

One thing I have learned is that because one is a bigot doesn't make him evil, or even mean. It just makes him ignorant. Obama choose Warren for personal reasons, not for a statement, or symbolism.

Remember, A reason Obama is so appealing is his willingness to talk with people who disagree with him. To listen to their story, for their reasons.

That, and for all we know, Warren may get on that stage and denounce his earlier statements about homosexuality and do an entire 180. Though that's just wishful thinking with a dash of naivete on my part.

And about his choices. Change can be brought about with old tools. Think of those around him not as old pols, but experienced. People who know who, what when, where, why, and how. These are people who know how things work, and thus how to work things. I would rather have Obama have all the resources he would need to be a successful president, then a new cabinet of no-nothings who have never been to Washington. Remember, Obama will use these people as he sees fit. And I'm getting the feeling i'm saying the same thing over and over again, and not very well at that....in this post at least...you understand what I'm trying to say


Random said...

DCM
"I still support him, but much softer & leery until he proves himself worthy through action & advocacy with impact"

I would hope that you would have held that stance long before Warren was chosen. After all, none of us here are dumb enough to think Obama is anything less than a very skilled politician. We choose him because he talked of ideals we agree with, but he was pandering, of course he was, and still is, and will for the next four years. Such is the life of a politician.

What we are hoping for, is that he means at least 50% of what he says, and he's as smart as we all hope. But in the end we all should be taking a step back, and watch him very closely, and don't let him slip on anything.

I will admit that I'm mostly playing devil's advocate. I always feel that one should see all angles before one judges a choice. In fact, I personally will hold off on my judging of warren as a good idea or bad until after he gives his speech tomorrow.

That also being said, as an atheist, i don't consider it pandering to go to a church that one does not follow. You can learn a lot being in a church.



And then, a very nasty post by a third party:
I have removed the name

Random,

It is highly unlikely Warren will denounce his previous position. Which was to strip an entire class of citizens of their civil rights.

Inviting a bigot to deliver the opening prayer of your administration is an endorsement of that bigot and therefore of his bigoted views.

I'm sure there are some pretty charming racists and misogynists out there. Why is it that it's only the fags you are insisting on welcoming the people that have spread hate toward us?

The double standards imply that you think that homophobia is better than racism or sexism. Which therefore implies that GLBTs are not worth as much as other Americans in your view.

I therefore criticize you and everybody that would extend a welcome hand to those that would incite hate toward any class of American citizen. I condemn the notion that bigotry in any form is acceptable, expecially when you invite a purveyor of that hate to the microphone to bless your administration at it's inception.

Fuck bigotry, fuck hatred, fuck anybody that says any human life is worth less than another fuck anybody that would claim that any American should enjoy a lesser class of rights than any other, and fuck all of you that would allow those who claim these things to be your spokespeople.

Fuck you all.

We will not be left to beg for scraps from the table of liberty like dogs, especially when we have done the back breaking work it took to seat your ungrateful asses at that table to begin with. We gave you the donation money, we put in the volunteer hours, we made the phone calls and painted the signs and distributed the buttons, we registered the new voters, we made your change. And if your change does not include us, then we will make change out of your five dollar asses the next time an election comes around. We can turn the great strength we exerted in your favor against you just as easily, and we can elect you opponents. Yes, we did put you in power, and yes, we can throw your ass out.



And this was my reply:
Well, it seems you didn't read the part where i said it was very unlikely that Warren would denounce it.

And I have not spoken a word about racism or misogyny in any of my postings, so for you to assume my position on them as it relates to homophobia is really quite ignorant.

My position is, and always shall be in tolerance...to EVERYONE. not just those who have hatred spewed on them, but those who spew that hatred. We should not judge those by our own ideals and morals, because no one else has the ideals and morals.

That does not, and I will say that again, THAT DOES NOT mean i support any form of bigotry. I support the understanding of a person. And why that person believes what they do. I am not a radical, I am not militant. I believe we are all separate individuals with our own faults, our own bigotry. We are not perfect beings, and we all have our prejudices. and to denounce other's prejudices based on the sole assumption that theirs are wrong, and ours are right is ignorant to a degree that is staggering.

And you denounce bigotry, but you have shown amazing displays towards Pastor Warren. You make him into a monster because of a belief of his own. Whether that belief is right or wrong is relative, and to be a bigot towards him because of that, is just as bad as his bigotry to the gays.

So for you to condemn Warren you should condemn yourself for acting the same.

You sir, are a bigot. You are ignorant.

And you have judged me because I have decided to give reasons for Warren speaking on stage. I have not stated my own beliefs on that matter. I have refused to state my own beliefs. But in insist on judging me any way.

That, is the action of a bigot.




My question stands from the title of this blog. Was I in the right or wrong? Did i deserve the harsh words directed towards me?

I would like honest answers...please.

January 10, 2009

First Draft Prologue

Note of Introduction. This comes as a collaboration between me and a friend. Characters are shared from both her stories and mine. Note this is a prologue, and it's a first rough draft, so please keep that in mine.


Valeria leaned against the concrete wall of the alley. Her breath was shallow and harsh. Sweat coated her brow, and stained her shirt. She pushed her self from the wall, loosing her balance for a second, stumbling slightly, before coming to a solid stance. She looked down at her feet, seeing the corpse of what had just attacked her.
Through it’s heart was a long metal bar, that had been twisted by the creature, and used against her only minutes before. She cursed her self for letting it get any sort of upper hand, even though she got away from the attack without any real damage. She kicked the corpse again, making sure she had aimed right and killed the thing.
“Damn Vampire…” she cursed under her breath. She slowly started to walk away from the corpse, her body stiff, and subtle waves of pain moving through her body. Emanating from her chest and arms, where most of the creature’s blows were centered.
It was late, and she was tired, but still work needed to be done. Valeria made her away about a block and a half down the road to find a small café she liked to visit. It was open twenty-four seven, and she found it a comforting home away from home. She ran her fingers through her straw-berry blonde hair and sighed as she entered, knowing she must look a horrible mess.
The café itself was mostly empty, tables to her left were empty, except for a girl with a stack of books, a particularly large one open inches from her nose. The clerk behind the clerk was a man she knew, Gabe. He was alright in her mind, but kind of dull, and a bit slow on the uptake.
Valeria smiled walking up to the counter. “Hey Gabe, slow night.”
He just nodded, looking her over once. She ignored it. “Yes it is.” He said simply. “What would ya like, Ria?” he asked.
Ever the conversationalist, Valeria thought, smiling to herself. “Just a coffee, something to wake me up.”
Gabe just nodded and went about his work. Valeria slid her hands into her pockets, feeling for money to buy the drink. It took her a moment to feel a hole in her right pocket. She cursed yanking her hands out of their pockets and felt along her jeans, wondering, hoping, that the money was just trapped inside.
“Four bucks.” Gabe said, putting the cup on the table.
“Uh…” Valeria said, wondering what she would do.
“I’ll take care of it.” A voice from behind Valeria said. She turned and saw the girl put the money on the counter. She smiled at Valeria before going back to her books.
Valeria laughed softly and picks up the coffee. “Yeah…Thanks…” she said to Gabe and walks over to the table. “Thank you,” she said with a smile, sitting at the table. “It was very kind.”
The girl looked up from her book. “It’s not a problem.” She smiled. “My good deed for the day.”
Valeria smiled. “So, what’s your name?”
“Noah, and…Ria, if I heard correctly.”
Valeria nodded. “Well, Valeria, but only my brother calls me that. Most just stick with Ria.”
Noah smiled. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” She looked back at her book, reading.
Valeria leaned over and looked at the text. “Medicine huh? Going to be a doctor?”
Noah nodded, and blushed slightly. “Yeah…I’m trying.”
“That’s good…”
Silence came over the two. Valeria gently sipped her coffee and looked around the café. “Not very busy…”
Noah laughed softly. “I find places aren’t at one am.”
“Well, some places are.” Valeria smiled. “But I know what you mean…”
The silence returned. It became heavier, and more uncomfortable between the two. It was hard for Valeria to talk about anything. This was just a normal girl. Nicer than most, sure. But she couldn’t really relate to her.
“I…uh…should be going.” Valeria stood slowly. “I’ll see ya around, okay?”
Noah nodded. “Alright…” she blushed softly as Valeria left the table, leaving her alone again.

December 23, 2008

Rick Warren

I should warn you that this is all over the place, so forgive me. I'm not apologizing for anything Warren has done, or will do, but I've always been int he firm belief that understanding and accepting your opponents for who the are the bad...and GOOD.

Warren doesn't view it as Civil Rights. That ever occur to anyone here? That in is his own head he believes he is doing the right thing? Because of the way he's been fucked over in life? by the way he was warped as a child? Or because he opposes something you support he must be evil and against doing the right thing. People like Warren, and Bush, and Palin are people who think they are doing the right thing, because in their own twisted world they are. Their world is not twisted voluntarily i should remind you, but by their family, their generation, their environment. And to not understand that Warren may be doing something assholic, he has a reason behind what he's done, and that reason is rooted in century old beliefs. He isn't going to change, because he can't change.

It's impossible to change a persons world view. He has been brought up and bred into believing that Homosexuality is a sin, and really in his mind he believes he's trying to save those sinners. Is he right or wrong, no one can ever truly say because it isn't something knowable.

If we stand here and get on a soap box and decry others for not doing as we do, without ever understanding the other side, or why they may think that way, then we are no better.

We are all different people, and there is one very clear thing you all should remember, without evil there is no good. Because as a society if we were all monochrome there would be no society, just drones, robots. There is good in everything and everyone. Good comes from evil, just as evil comes from good. And to deny the good that has come from this evil, is to deny good as a whole.

December 18, 2008

Japanese Lesson 1

Hello everyone, welcome to my new blog...Lessons!
Since I'm trying to learn Japanese, I thought it would help to start teaching it as well.
I'm going to start off simple and put up ten words and give their romaji and then the Kana.
Well...since i can't find audio files i need for most of these things...and any fancy dictionary notation...you'll have to live for now with my pitiful attempt to sound out each word.
On that note, r's are made with a kind of half r/l sound, hard to explain...listen to the "arigatou" clip to hear it.

good - ii - いい "e"
bad - dame - だめ "dah-may"
yes - hai - はい
no - iie - いいえ
hello - konnichiwa - こんにちは "co-knee-chi-wah"
good-bye - sayounara - さようなら "saw-yo-nah-ra"
this - kore - これ "co-ray"
that - sore - それ "so-ray"
thank you - arigatou - ありがとう
I (formal) - watashi - わたし "wah-tah-shi"

Not much at the moment, I have a few...worksheets...cheat sheets...and even tests (as well as homework). Also since not everyone can read the Japanese characters, please post a comment in this post about that, and I'll see what i can do.

December 10, 2008

Coin, Revisted

Here we go gang, i'm back and posting the final bit of my story...coin...
Extra prize if you can guess why it's called that.

coin

Andrea Daveys stood in the back of the gas station convenience store, staring at the container of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. The door to the freezer hung open before her, but the cold didn’t really bother her. She frowned, turning the frozen treat around in her hand, not really reading the information, just thinking. She hated ice cream. It had memories of her father that she couldn’t shake off. Gently she tossed it into the air, and catching it. She repeated this, still lost in her thoughts. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her sister.
She pushed the freezer door shut and made her way through one of the few isle in the store. The door opened to the store, with a faint beep. Andrea looked up and saw a young man wearing a jacket, his hands buried in the jacket’s pockets. She shook her head and looked to her left, seeing the row of candy. For a moment she wondered if a chocolate bar would be enough for her sister, instead of the ice cream. She sighed, knowing it wouldn’t be fair.
After a moment she gets behind the young man standing at the counter, buying cigarettes from the owner. Her cell phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. She didn’t bother go for it. The buzz was an alarm, set for 9:45pm. Her favorite show would be on in fifteen minutes. She watched as the owner moved slowly around behind the counter, getting the cigarettes. Moving the ice cream from her right hand, to her left, to relieve the cold, she groaned.
Time slowed as the young man pulled something from his right pocket. Andrea saw the gun in his hand as it moved to point at the owner. She felt her heart race, pounding hard in her chest. Her eyes focused on the gun.
Her fingers went numb, and she dropped the ice cream. It hit the tile hard, breaking the cheap plastic seal, and sending the insides in all directions. She felt the cold splash against her leg, instantly knowing the man in front of her would have felt the ice cream as well.
He did. He turned to her. First his eyes, looking down in surprise, then, up at her. She reacted, instantly. Her right hand reached out and grabbed the young man’s hand. She followed with her left elbow, just below the man’s ribs.
The gun didn’t fire. She felt the man’s grip of the gun loosen, and she quickly grabbed for the barrel, preventing it from falling to the ground. The man himself stumbled backwards and fell onto his back, gasping for breath.
Andrea smiled slightly, feeling as if she did some good, before looking to the owner. He still looked frightened. She smiled wider and placed the gun on the counter. “Don’t worry.” She looked around and down at the gunman. His eyes were wide and his mouth open, trying to breath. “You’ll be fine.”
She pulled out the cell phone from her pocket. “I’m going to call the police, than I’ll help ya clean up.” She dialed the phone, before pressing it to her ear. It ringed in her ear. She looked down to see the ice cream melting around her feet, so she stepped into the back of the store.
“Detective Carter,” came a bored voice from the phone.
“Hi Steven.” She glanced back at the owner, still standing in shock.
“What Andrea?” Steven sounding just as bored.
Andrea smiled to herself, and stared at the freezer in front of her. “Well, I took out a robber at a Stop and Go.”
“And…” he said. She could swear she could hear the rolling of his eyes. “You should call the 9-1-1 operator, not me.”
“Well forgive me for wanting to brag…” she said sighing deeply.
“Look, I’m bu-”
A loud bang cuts him off.
“What is that?” he cried out in her ear, she could hear a clatter on the other end.
She had spun around as another bang went off. She saw the owner standing over the would-be-robber. Blood had splattered onto his shoes, and the bottom of his pants. He held the gun, pointed down, a gentle stream of smoke coming from the barrel.

Zacharia stood before the nightstand and carefully removed the things on top of the stand, before laying down the case. He lifted the latches, taking his time, making as little noise as possible.
First he removed a small pistol and placed it on the nightstand. Than he removed a small pack of extra long zip ties, followed by a long piece of cloth. Next he took out a tape recorder. Finally an even smaller case, made of wood and initials carved into it.
Zacharia looked over to the sleeping man and sighed softly. He scanned the room, looking for the best advantage. He gently picked up the cloth from the nightstand and stood over the sleeping man. With his free hand he reached forward and opened the man’s mouth, than lifting his hand, so he could wrap the cloth around the sleeping man’s head, creating a gag.
He left the man’s head go. A soft grunt came from the man, as he slowly woke from his slumber.
“Good…” Zacharia said softly. The man tried to move away, scrambling across the bed. “I wouldn’t…Mr. Harper…” He gestured to the gun on the table passively; making sure the man saw it. “I think I could fire a shot before you’d get to a door or window.”
Harper stopped moving, his eyes locked on Zacharia, tears starting to form. Zacharia just nodded and picked up the package of zip ties and the gun, walking over to the side of the bed the man had scrambled to.
“Arms out front…” Zacharia said. After a moment the man didn’t comply. “Do as I say, or you will die.” His arms sprung forward. Zacharia put the pack to his mouth and gently pulled the zip tie out of it using his teeth. He tossed the package aside and slowly wrapped the tie around Harper’s wrists.
“Alright.” He pushes the man back down onto the bed. “This won’t take long.” Zacharia laid down the gun and walks over to pick up the small engraved box. He runs his thumb along the crack along the side. With a gentle push the box opened, exposing a scalpel sitting on the velvet inside. He gently pulled the tool from its resting place.
He looked at the man, twirling the scalpel between his fingers. “I’m sorry I can’t make this quick.” He reached down and slowly lifted Harpers right foot. “But…” Zacharia sliced the blade across his victim’s Achilles’ tendon. A muffled cry of pain came from the man. He gently lifted Harper’s left foot and repeated the process. “You don’t deserve that luxury.” The man laid on the bed, tears streaming down his face.
Zacharia sets the case down next to the immobilized man. He walks back around to the night stand and picked up the recorder. His thumb presses down the record and play button, starting the machine. “Now…Where to begin…” He absent mindedly balanced the scalpel on the back of his fingers, and stared at Harper.
“Right…” Zacharia looked down at Harper’s eyes, seeing the fear in them. “I bet you never thought you would ever feel this kind of fear?” Zacharia shook his head. “So, shall we start…
“Bethany Daveys…” His mind went back over the research he had done before his arrival. “You were her pediatrician. At the age of twelve, she was found, alone in her home, tied up, molested…” he paused for a moment, remembering the data. “Her father was suppose to be watching her. Several days later, he was found dead, hung himself, in motel room. Bethany currently resides in a mental institution, her mind…broken. She thinks she’s still twelve. Stuck at that age for all her life…”
Zacharia slowly walked around the bed, thinking, his mind lost for a moment. He looked to Harper. “You know who I’m talking about…” Harper lay still, his eyes following Zacharia as he walked. He smiled slightly. “How about Helena Kirkland?” He nodded. “Ten. Again, home alone, and the same treatment. No charges were filed. But her mother blamed her father. She left him. His grief ate away at him. Years later, he was left alone, his job gone. He was gone then…” He paused for a moment and walked over to Harper.
Zacharia looked at his own watch. “It’s getting late…” He picked up the gun, placing the recorder in it’s place, and pointed it at Harper.. Zacharia pulls the trigger. The man cries out as the gun gives out a soft click. “It’s not loaded…” He laughs softly and walks over to his case. He gently puts away the gun and look to his victim.
“Here’s the deal. I’ll remove the gag, and turn myself in, if you be honest and admit to those crimes, loud enough for the recorder to here.”
Harper nods. Zacharia leans forward and pulls the gag down.
“I-I did it. I raped those girls. I killed the one…Please don’t kill me.”
He paused for a moment. Zacharia slashed the scalpel across Harper’s throat, cutting deep. “No…”

Andrea was tired. It’d had taken all night to deal with the owner who shot the kid trying to rob his store. Not only was she a witness, but she was sure she was in some kind of troupe for leaving the gun on the counter. She had to admit she hadn’t thought the owner would shot the kid, but…
She walked along the row of desks in the police station. As a beat reporter she spent plenty of time in the station, talking with the cops, getting to know a few. She had stopped a few years ago, but still had friends on the force. She made her way to the break room, hoping there was a pot of coffee she could get a drink from.
She pushed open the door to the small room. It had a counter across from the door, that ended with a fridge. On the other side of the counter, an empty pot of coffee sat. In the center of the room, a table, with a few chairs surrounding it.
Detective Steven Carter sat at the table, looking at a file, his hand holding a cup. He sat lost in thought, looking at the folder contents. Andrea slipped into a seat next to him and gently lifted the cup from his hand and took a sip.
Steven looked up at her, surprise fading into frustration. “I was drinking that.”
“I’ve been up all night being questioned, pain in the ass.”
“Yes, I can see how you’re annoyed, I had to fill out a bunch of paper work because of you.” He was being sarcastic, but a smile still crossed his face. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She laughed. “Well, he wasn’t going to shoot me. He was just a little peeved that people kept robbing his store…” she trailed off, looking into the distance, her smile faded.
“Andrea…” Steven leaned forward, trying to look into her eyes.
In an instant she reached out and grabbed the file, smiling again, looking at the file in it.
“Hey!” Steven said, grabbing for, but failing.
It was a homicide. The face of the victim was clipped on the top of the page. Something about the face was familiar to her. She scanned the front page, the first officer at the scene’s report.
“What ya got here?” she asks.
He sighed. “I shouldn’t let you read that.”
Andrea laughed. “You going to stop me?”
“Not really,” Steven said, sighing. “Joseph Harper, found dead in his home last night. A very clean break in, almost nothing touched. The killer cut the back of Harper’s feet, and then his throat. Forensics say it was a small blade, only an inch, at best.”
Andrea flipped through some of the pages, not really reading anything. She stopped holding the pages up, seeing a transcript. “What’s this?”
“Hm?” Steven leaned around to get a look at the paper. “That is from a tape recorder found at the scene. Two voices, I’m assuming ones the killer, the other the victim.”
Andrea read the paper. Feeling something inside her churn. “Lucky us…” she said, lost in her own mind.
“Lucky…” Steven said, and gently tugged the file from Andrea’s hand. “It looks like the killer left it there on purpose. Either to expose Mr. Harper’s crimes, or his own.”
“You have a suspect.” Andrea shifted in the seat, feeling jittery, restless all of the sudden.
“One, an ex-surgeon, Zacharia Kirkland. Looks like the second girl is his own. Cold case had a copy of the file of her death. Zacharia was a suspect, but no proof against him, and the case finally just died.”
Andrea nodded, taking a sip of her coffee, and looked into it’s dark abyss. “Zacharia Kirkland, huh?” she asked, more to herself than to Steven.
“Is everything okay Andrea?”
She looked up and smiled. “Yeah, just tired.”
Steven reddened a bit and shook his head. “Okay then…”
Andrea laughed embarrassed and stood. “Well, I’m going to head home, kay.”
“Sure.” Steven nodded.
She waved to Steven as she left him alone in the break room.
Immediately she went to Steven’s desk, and pulled open the desk draw. Inside was his badge. She tucked it into her coat pocket. She needed to find Mr. Kirkland. And find out what he knew about Bethany.
* * *
Zacharia sat in the middle of the small apartment. Nothing furnished the room, except for a mattress in the corner, and a stack of books next to it. He didn’t need much anyway. He ate out most of the time, and had enough money saved to live like that for long enough.
He had lost track of time, but knew the sun had reached about it’s highpoint, by the lack of direct sun leading into the apartment. He slowed his breath down, his mind going over the events of the night before. He smiled to himself, feeling justice had been done, once again.
A knock came from the door. He stood and walked slowly to the door, looking through the peephole. A woman, in her late twenties, early thirties, red hair, stood on the other side.
He pulled the door open. “Yes…” he said.
“Mr. Kirkland?” she asked.
“Yes…” he repeated.
“My name is Andrea Daveys.” She pulled a badge from her coat, showing it to Zacharia. “I’m a detective.”
He felt his hand tighten on the door, remembering the name, “Daveys”.
“What can I do for you?”
“Did you know a Joseph Harper?”
She knew.
Zacharia stood for a moment and smiled. “I know of him. I read some of his work in a medical journal...”
“Is he well known?” She asked, harmlessly.
“In some circles…” Zacharia said.
Detective Daveys nodded. “Mr. Kirkland. Do you happen to know where your wife is?”
Zacharia felt his hand tighten even harder on the door, and felt his teeth grit. “My Wife…Ex-Wife…Is not here. I don’t know where she is…” He started to breath deeply. “What is this about?”
“Your daughter’s name was Helena, correct?” She asked, ignoring his question.
“Yes. Now. What is this about?” Zacharia felt a rage building inside him. His hands almost felt like grabbing the woman, choking her.
“I’m looking into the death of a Joseph Harper, and into Bethany Daveys and Helena Kirkland.” Detective Daveys looked up at him, her face calm, but her eyes were on fire.
Zacharia shook his head. “Like I said, I read about Harper. Helena was my daughter. I don’t know anything about a Bethany Da-”
“Alright.” Detective Daveys nodded and smiled. “Thank you for your time.” She turned away from him, and left along the building’s hallway.
Zacharia felt his rage come to a full boil as he slammed the door shut. He knew, she must die.

Andrea sighed as she walked along the white hallways, smelling the obvious odor of medicine. She came to a stop at a locked gate. To her right was a window, with wire embedded in it. Below it was a drawer. She reached into her jacket and placed her wallet, keys, and badge inside the drawer.
She looked up at the woman behind the window, as the draw retracted. She smiled and spoke over the intercom. “No Ice-cream?” she asked.
Andrea shook her head. “I left it out all night.” She laughed softly, not sure why she lied to the woman. “What time is it anyway?”
“Just after six.” She said, carefully taking the items from the drawer, putting them away, so Andrea could get them when she returned.
“How is she?” Andrea asked.
“Fine from what I heard. Her birthday is coming up.” She smiled.
“Yeah…” Andrea nodded, thinking of her own birthday, alone in her apartment.
A buzz broke her thoughts. “Go on through,” the woman said.
Andrea nodded and walked through the now open gate. This was a path she walked often, she knew the twists and turns, and even some of the players along the way. She reached a large recreation room.
Two men sat closest to her, playing cards, arguing over every card played, as if the other was trying to cheat them. This wasn’t new, Andrea wasn’t even sure if the two did anything else, or even sleep. She just smiled, walking past them.
Only one other person was in the room. She figured at this time, most were in the dining room, or watching the T.V. A young woman, sat in the far corner, in front of a canvass, engrossed in her work. Andrea sat next to the woman.
“What are you working on Bethany?” She asked, looking over her sister’s shoulder.
Bethany looked at Andrea and smiled, hugging her, getting some paint on her coat. “I missed you.”
Andrea smiled and kissed her sister’s cheek. “So, going to tell me what you’re working on here?” She asked, looking at the rudimentary picture. She could tell what it was, but felt it better for her sister to explain it.
Bethany smiled. “Well, this is us!” she pointed the brush at the two smallest stick figures. “This is mommy and daddy.” She pointed at the second set of figures on the page.
Andrea nodded, smiling. It still felt weird for her to hear her twenty-three year old sister refer to her parents, in such a child-like way. She knew why, but that didn’t help it be any less awkward.
“What you gonna get me for my birthday?” she asked, smiling at Andrea.
“Well, I haven’t decided yet. What do you want?”
Bethany shrugged. “I dunno…” she looked sad for a moment. “When is daddy coming back?”
Andrea felt tears in her eyes, looking at her sister. It was a question her sister always asked, and one she never had an answer to. She couldn’t understand how Bethany could have so much love for the man who made her this way.
Instead Andrea nodded slightly and looked at the painting. “I don’t know.”
Bethany smiled. “Maybe he’ll bring me a puppy. I want a puppy.”
Andrea laughed and pulled her sister close and kissed her forehead. “Alright.”
The two sat in silence.
“Bethany, do you remember a Dr. Harper?”
Her little sister looked at her and nodded. “He was my doctor, I think. Been awhile since I’ve seen him.”
Andrea stood and patted her sister on the shoulder. “Sis, I got to get going.”
Bethany looked sad. “You’re not going to leave me, too, are you?”
Andrea stood in silence, looking at her little sister and smiled. “Of course not.”

Zacharia sat in the car, staring at the lighted clock on the dashboard. The numbers slowly ticked closer to eleven. The parking garage was quite, and only a few dim lights hung from the ceiling. He sighed, looking at the gun laying on the seat next to him.
The clocked flashed a new number as headlights filled the darkened garage. He couldn’t see the driver, but knew instinctively who it must have been.
He picked up the gun from beside him and slipped out of the car. Slowly the other car came to a stop, and he heard the motor stop, and saw the headlights shut off. A figure got out of the car. Zacharia saw Andrea Daveys step into the light.
Slowly he stepped from the shadows as well.
“Detective…” he said, softly.
She froze and turned to look at Zacharia. “M-Mister Kirkland.” Fear filled her eyes.
He moved closer, making sure the gun could obviously be seen. “I’m sorry…” he said.
“You don’t have to do this.” She reposnded.
“I…I can’t…stop…” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I did the right thing. Kirkland was a bad person…”
“I know…” she said softly. “What he did to your daughter was wrong…”
Zacharia laughed. “And your sister.” He smiled, seeing her eyes widen. “I wanted to make sure, when I heard your name. You’re Bethany’s sister. You’re father was innocent of the crime he took to his grave…”
“Innocent…” She said softly, looking down. “No…”
“He was!” He cried, waving the gun. “I know…”
“My father was an evil man.” Andrea said, under her breath.
“He was innocent…” Zacharia insisted.
“You forget…Long before Bethany, I was there…”
The two stood in silence. Zacharia looked at her, watching her. Andrea slowly lifted her head, staring him straight in the eye
“You’re going to kill me?” she asked.
“I…” he looked at her. “I have to.”
She took a deep breath. “Do you?”
Zacharia waved the gun. “I can’t stop now. So many left.”
“I did research on you too.” She said, softly. “I went to the hospital where you worked. Six men died, during your operations. Did you kill them all?”
Zacharia smiled softly. “Over the years. Slowly they came to me, the first by chance, then later I did a little work behind the scenes, having some even transferred to my hospital…” He laughed softly. “And I gave them the justice they deserved.”
Andrea stood silent, staring at him.
Zacharia growled. “I did what was needed. I did the right thing.”
“The right thing?” she said softly, and looked at him. “Fine.” Detective Daveys stood straighter and nodded. “If killing me is the right thing. Do it.” She closed her eyes and waited.
“I have to…” he said, his voice soft, unsure. Zacharia raised the gun. His hand started to shake. He couldn’t do it. Something was holding him back. He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry…” he said, even softer than before. He fired.

November 13, 2008

Depression

I would first like to apologize for not posting in...well over a week.
I am in a funk, depressed even. Election day came last week, and the guy I voted for lost. It's sad for me. It was my first presidential election, and I voted for a loser. Course, I suppose it's my fault that I live in a very liberal part of the state, but how the hell would I have known the whole damn state would turn blue? I sense fraud, And I'm bloody pissed. I will not have my vote taken away from me.
*sighs*
I'm just annoyed...angry...sad...forgive me.
One last thing.
Screw you Ron Klein. I know you rigged the election.

Thank you.

November 1, 2008

Coin Endings

Endings to the short story, i just posted. Please tell me which works best.
1.)

Steven Carter sighed, standing in the elevator. It was almost eleven, and he hadn’t heard from Andrea all day. He’d just come from her apartment, and she wasn’t there. Something was bothering her, he knew it. He also hadn’t been able to find Zacharia Kirkland either. It seemed like everyone was avoiding him.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. Beyond the doors, he could see to people. The back of a red haired woman, and a man holding a gun. Immediately he pulled his own sidearm. He moved quickly, watching the man, ready.

The man holding the gun fired. His training kicked in, and he jerked his own weapon up, and fired. Time seemed to slow as Steven began to run towards the two. The man, who Steven recognized as Zacharia Kirkland, fell to the floor. He started to run faster, knowing the woman must have been Andrea.

Andrea walked over and knelt over the body of Zacharia.

“Andrea.” he said, reaching her side.

She didn’t look up. “He missed…” she said, her voice distracted.

“What?”

She didn’t respond.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“He was a troubled man.” She said, almost ignoring him. “His life, destroyed by another.”

“Okay…” Steven said, confused by what was going on.

“He was wrong though. My father wasn’t innocent. He may not have done anything to Bethany…but I was there, long before she was.”

“Andrea…” he felt a need to reach his hand out, to comfort her, but something held him back.

“I couldn’t protect her, I couldn’t protect myself.” She stared at the body. “I couldn’t protect the kid last night. And I couldn’t protect a man, who was scarred by the same act I was…” she said, softly.

Steven didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry…” she said, her voice more than a whisper.

Before Steven could react, a loud bang filled the garage. Andrea fell limp over Zacharia’s body.

“Andrea!” he cried, kneeling beside her, and quickly rolling her over. A red flower bloomed over her chest. A gun lay on the concrete floor. “No…please don’t.” He felt for a pulse. He didn’t find one.

2.)

Steven Carter sighed, standing in the elevator. It was almost eleven, and he hadn’t heard from Andrea all day. He’d just come from her apartment, and she wasn’t there. Something was bothering her, he knew it. He also hadn’t been able to find Zacharia
Kirkland either. It seemed like everyone was avoiding him.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. Beyond the doors, he could see to people. The back of a red haired woman, and a man holding a gun. Immediately he pulled his own sidearm. He moved quickly, watching the man, ready.

The man holding the gun fired. His training kicked in, and he jerked his own weapon up, and fired. Time seemed to slow as Steven began to run towards the two. The man, who Steven recognized as Zacharia Kirkland, fell to the floor. He started to run faster, knowing the woman must have been Andrea.

Andrea walked over and knelt over the body of Zacharia.

“Andrea.” he said, reaching her side.

She didn’t look up. “He missed…” she said, her voice distracted.

“What?”

She didn’t respond.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“He was a troubled man.” She said, almost ignoring him. “His life, destroyed by another.”

“Okay…” Steven said, confused by what was going on.

“He was wrong though. My father wasn’t innocent. He may not have done anything to Bethany…but I was there, long before she was.”

“Andrea…” he felt a need to reach his hand out, to comfort her, but something held him back.

“I couldn’t protect her, I couldn’t protect myself.” She stared at the body. “I couldn’t protect the kid last night. And I couldn’t protect a man, who was scarred by the same act I was…” she said, softly.

Steven reached down and touched her shoulder. “Andrea…It isn’t your fault.”
She looked up at him. Tears stained her face.

Steven crouched beside her and looked her in the eyes. “You can’t carry the blame of what’s happened to others, or what others have done.” He smiled, softly. “All you can do is grow, and be the best you can be.”

He pulled her to him, holding her tightly. Her face buried into his shoulder, still crying. “I’m sorry,” was all she said.

Coin Version 4 (Everything but the end)

This is everything but the end, there is a reason (mainly i don't know which end to put). I'm going to post several endings, and ask your opinion of them. That'll be in just a minute, so enjoy the story till then.

Andrea Daveys stood in the back of the gas station convenience store, staring at the container of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. The door to the freezer hung open before her, but the cold didn’t really bother her. She frowned, turning the frozen treat around in her hand, not really reading the information, just thinking. She hated ice cream. It had memories of her father that she couldn’t shake off. Gently she tossed it into the air, and catching it. She repeated this, still lost in her thoughts. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her sister.

She pushed the freezer door shut and made her way through one of the few isle in the store. The door opened to the store, with a faint beep. Andrea looked up and saw a young man wearing a jacket, his hands buried in the jacket’s pockets. She shook her head and looked to her left, seeing the row of candy. For a moment she wondered if a chocolate bar would be enough for her sister, instead of the ice cream. She sighed, knowing it wouldn’t be fair.

After a moment she gets behind the young man standing at the counter, buying cigarettes from the owner. Her cell phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. She didn’t bother go for it. The buzz was an alarm, set for 9:45pm. Her favorite show would be on in fifteen minutes. She watched as the owner moved slowly around behind the counter, getting the cigarettes. Moving the ice cream from her right hand, to her left, to relieve the cold, she groaned.

Time slowed as the young man pulled something from his right pocket. Andrea saw the gun in his hand as it moved to point at the owner. She felt her heart race, pounding hard in her chest. Her eyes focused on the gun.
Her fingers went numb, and she dropped the ice cream. It hit the tile hard, breaking the cheap plastic seal, and sending the insides in all directions. She felt the cold splash against her leg, instantly knowing the man in front of her would have felt the ice cream as well.

He did. He turned to her. First his eyes, looking down in surprise, then, up at her. She reacted, instantly. Her right hand reached out and grabbed the young man’s hand. She followed with her left elbow, just below the man’s ribs.

The gun didn’t fire. She felt the man’s grip of the gun loosen, and she quickly grabbed for the barrel, preventing it from falling to the ground. The man himself stumbled backwards and fell onto his back, gasping for breath.

Andrea smiled slightly, feeling as if she did some good, before looking to the owner. He still looked frightened. “Don’t worry, I’m a cop.” She put the gun onto the counter, while reaching with her other hand into her coat, for her badge. “And he should be just fine, just knocked the wind from him.” She flashed the gold emblem to the owner.

He didn’t move.

She blinked and nodded. “I tell ya what. I’ll go to my car, I’ve got a radio, I’ll call this in. Afterwards, I’ll come back, and help you clean up the mess.” She smiled, trying reassure the man.

Andrea quickly left the store, and went to her car, parked near-by. She laughed softly, proud of herself. Not that she hadn’t taken down crooks before, it always felt good, slamming and elbow or knee into a bad guy. It also never usually goes down this simple. Sure, the ice cream was lost, and she’d have make something up to her sister, but that wasn’t going to bring her down.

She opened the driver’s door and reached in for the hand-set sitting on the middle of her dash. “This is Detective Daveys. There has been an attempted robbery. Suspect has been apprehended, could you please send back up. I’m at a gas station at the corner of Wilkens and Uni-” A loud bang cut her off. Her finger slipped off the button on the radio.

“Detective Daveys! What is going on?” the voice of the dispatcher over the radio came through.

“I don’t know…” She trailed off. Two more bangs came in quick succession.

Andrea dropped the radio and ran quickly to the front of the store. Just inside the glass doors, she saw the owner standing over the would-be-robber. Blood had splattered onto his shoes, and the bottom of his pants. He held the gun, pointed down, a gentle stream of smoke coming from the barrel.



Zacharia stood before the nightstand and carefully removed the things on top of the stand, before laying down the case. He lifted the latches, taking his time, making as little noise as possible.

First he removed a small pistol. It wasn’t loaded, but it didn’t need to be. Than he removed a small pack of extra long zip ties, followed by a long piece of cloth. Next he took out a tape recorder. Finally an even smaller case, made of wood and initials carved into it.

Zacharia looked over to the sleeping man and sighed softly. He scanned the room, looking for the best advantage. He gently picked up the cloth from the nightstand and stood over the sleeping man. With his free hand he reached forward and opened the man’s mouth, than lifting his hand, so he could wrap the cloth around the sleeping man’s head, creating a gag.

He left the man’s head go. A soft grunt came from the man, as he slowly woke from his slumber.

“Good…” Zacharia said softly. The man tried to move away, scrambling across the bed. “I wouldn’t…Mr. Harper…” He gestured to the gun on the table passively; making sure the man saw it. “I think I could fire a shot before you’d get to a door or window.”
Harper stopped moving, his eyes locked on Zacharia, tears starting to form. Zacharia just nodded and picked up the package of zip ties and the gun, walking over to the side of the bed the man had scrambled to.

“Arms out front…” Zacharia said. After a moment the man didn’t comply. “Do as I say, or you will die.” His arms sprung forward. Zacharia put the pack to his mouth and gently pulled the zip tie out of it using his teeth. He tossed the package aside and slowly wrapped the tie around Harper’s wrists.

“Alright.” He pushes the man back down onto the bed. “This won’t take long.” Zacharia laid down the gun and walks over to pick up the small engraved box. He runs his thumb along the crack along the side. With a gentle push the box opened, exposing a scalpel sitting on the velvet inside. He gently pulled the tool from its resting place.

He looked at the man, twirling the scalpel between his fingers. “I’m sorry I can’t make this quick.” He reached down and slowly lifted Harpers right foot. “But…” Zacharia sliced the blade across his victim’s Achilles’ tendon. A muffled cry of pain came from the man. He gently lifted Harper’s left foot and repeated the process. “You don’t deserve that luxury.” The man laid on the bed, tears streaming down his face.

Zacharia sets the case down next to the immobilized man. He walks back around to the night stand and picked up the recorder. His thumb presses down the record and play button, starting the machine. “Now…Where to begin…” He absent mindedly balanced the scalpel on the back of his fingers, and stared at Harper.

“Right…” Zacharia looked down at Harper’s eyes, seeing the fear in them. “I bet you never thought you would ever feel this kind of fear?” Zacharia shook his head. “So, shall we start…

“Bethany Daveys…” His mind went back over the research he had done before his arrival. “You were her pediatrician. At the age of twelve, she was found, alone in her home, tied up, molested…” he paused for a moment, remembering the data. “Her father was suppose to be watching her. Several days later, he was found dead, hung himself, in motel room. Bethany currently resides in a mental institution, her mind…broken. She thinks she’s still twelve. Stuck at that age for all her life…”

Zacharia slowly walked around the bed, thinking, his mind lost for a moment. He looked to Harper. “You know who I’m talking about…” Harper lay still, his eyes following Zacharia as he walked. He smiled slightly. “How about Helena Kirkland?” He nodded. “Ten. Again, home alone, and the same treatment. No charges were filed. But her mother blamed her father. She left him. His grief ate away at him. Years later, he was left alone, his job gone. He was gone then…” He paused for a moment and walked over to Harper.

Zacharia looked at his own watch. “It’s getting late…” He picked up the gun, placing the recorder in it’s place, and pointed it at Harper.. Zacharia pulls the trigger. The man cries out as the gun gives out a soft click. “It’s not loaded…” He laughs softly and walks over to his case. He gently puts away the gun and look to his victim.

“Here’s the deal. I’ll remove the gag, and turn myself in, if you be honest and admit to those crimes, loud enough for the recorder to here.”
Harper nods. Zacharia leans forward and pulls the gag down.

“I-I did it. I raped those girls. I killed the one…Please don’t kill me.”

He paused for a moment. “No…”

Zacharia slashed the scalpel across Harper’s throat, cutting deep. A spray of blood came from his throat as his eyes filled with pain and fear. All that came from the man was a gurgle as he died.



Andrea was tired. It’d had taken all night to deal with the owner who shot the kid trying to rob his store. Not only was she a witness, but plenty of her higher ups jumped down her throat about neglect, leaving the gun on the counter. She had to admit she hadn’t thought the owner would shot the kid, but…

She walked along the row of desks in the police station. She reached her own and sighed, idly looking at a few of the papers that were stacked on her desk. After a moment she shook her head and made her way to the break room, hoping someone had already started a pot of coffee.

She pushed open the door to the small room. It had a counter across from the door, that ended with a fridge. On the other side of the counter, a pot of coffee sat, half food. In the center of the room, a table, with a few chairs surrounding it.
Steven Carter, a colleague and friend, sat at the table, looking at a file, his hand holding a cup. He sat lost in thought, looking at the folder contents. Andrea slipped passed him and went to pour herself a cup of the brew. She took a sip and looked over his shoulder, curious.

It was a homicide. The face of the victim was clipped on the top of the page. Something about the face was familiar to her.

“What ya got here?” she asks.

Steven jerks a bit and looks over his shoulder. “Oh! Didn’t see you?”
Andrea laughs and sits sideways in the close chair to him. “I walked right in front of ya. Must be a puzzler.” She grabbed at the file, pulling it away from him. She scanned the front page, the first officer at the scene’s report. She sipped her coffee.

“Not really,” Steven said, sighing as she took the folder away. “Joseph Harper, found dead in his home last night. A very clean break in, almost nothing touched. The killer cut the back of Harper’s feet, and then his throat. Forensics say it was a small blade, only an inch, at best.”

Andrea flipped through some of the pages, not really reading anything. She stopped holding the pages up, seeing a transcript. “What’s this?”

“Hm?” Steven leaned around to get a look at the paper. “That is from a tape recorder found at the scene. Two voices, I’m assuming ones the killer, the other the victim.”
Andrea read the paper. Feeling something inside her churn. “Lucky us…” she said, lost in her own mind.

“Lucky…” Steven said, and gently tugged the file from Andrea’s hand. “It looks like the killer left it there on purpose. Either to expose Mr. Harper’s crimes, or his own.”

“You have a suspect.” Andrea shifted in the seat, feeling jittery, restless all of the sudden.

“One, an ex-surgeon, Zacharia Kirkland. Looks like the second girl is his own. Cold case had a copy of the file of her death. Zacharia was a suspect, but no proof against him, and the case finally just died.”

Andrea nodded, taking a sip of her coffee, and looked into it’s dark abyss.

“Zacharia Kirkland, huh?” she asked, more to herself than to Steven.

“Is everything okay Andrea?”

She looked up and smiled. “Yeah, just tired. Up all night.”

Steven reddened a bit and shook his head. “Yeah, heard about that. Sucks.”
Andrea laughed embarrassed and stood. “Well, I’ve got the day off, so I’ll see ya later, kay.”

“Sure.” Steven nodded.

She went over and poured the last of the coffee into the sink, and tossed the paper cup into the trash. She waved to Steven as she left him alone in the break room.
Immediately she went to her desk, and pulled open her desk draw. Inside was her badge. She tucked it into her coat pocket. She needed to find Mr. Kirkland. And find out what he knew about Bethany.



Zacharia sat in the middle of the small apartment. Nothing furnished the room, except for a mattress in the corner, and a stack of books next to it. He didn’t need much anyway. He ate out most of the time, and had enough money saved to live like that for long enough.

He had lost track of time, but knew the sun had reached about it’s highpoint, by the lack of direct sun leading into the apartment. He slowed his breath down, his mind going over the events of the night before. He smiled to himself, feeling justice had been done, once again.

A knock came from the door. He stood and walked slowly to the door, looking through the peephole. A woman, in her late twenties, early thirties, red hair, stood on the other side.

He pulled the door open. “Yes…” he said.

“Mr. Kirkland?” she asked.

“Yes…” he repeated.

“My name is Andrea Daveys.” She pulled a badge from her coat, showing it to Zacharia. “I’m a detective.”

He felt his hand tighten on the door, remembering the name, “Daveys”.

“What can I do for you?”

“Did you know a Joseph Harper?”

She knew.

Zacharia stood for a moment and smiled. “I know of him. I read some of his work in a medical journal...”

“Is he well known?” She asked, harmlessly.

“In some circles…” Zacharia said.

Detective Daveys nodded. “Mr. Kirkland. Do you happen to know where your wife is?”

Zacharia felt his hand tighten even harder on the door, and felt his teeth grit. “My Wife…Ex-Wife…Is not here. I don’t know where she is…” He started to breath deeply.

“What is this about?”

“Your daughter’s name was Helena, correct?” She asked, ignoring his question.

“Yes. Now. What is this about?” Zacharia felt a rage building inside him. His hands almost felt like grabbing the woman, choking her.

“I’m looking into the death of a Joseph Harper, and into Bethany Daveys and Helena Kirkland.” Detective Daveys looked up at him, her face calm, but her eyes were on fire.

Zacharia shook his head. “Like I said, I read about Harper. Helena was my daughter. I don’t know anything about a Bethany Da-”

“Alright.” Detective Daveys nodded and smiled. “Thank you for your time.” She turned away from him, and left along the building’s hallway.

Zacharia felt his rage come to a full boil as he slammed the door shut. He knew, she must die.



Andrea sighed as she walked along the white hallways, smelling the obvious odor of medicine. She came to a stop at a locked gate. To her right was a window, with wire embedded in it. Below it was a drawer. She reached into her jacket and placed her wallet, keys, and badge inside the drawer.

She looked up at the woman behind the window, as the draw retracted. She smiled and spoke over the intercom. “No Ice-cream?” she asked.

Andrea shook her head. “I left it out all night.” She laughed softly, not sure why she lied to the woman. “What time is it anyway?”

“Just after six.” She said, carefully taking the items from the drawer, putting them away, so Andrea could get them when she returned.

“How is she?” Andrea asked.

“Fine from what I heard. Her birthday is coming up.” She smiled.

“Yeah…” Andrea nodded, thinking of her own birthday, alone in her apartment.

A buzz broke her thoughts. “Go on through,” the woman said.

Andrea nodded and walked through the now open gate. This was a path she walked often, she knew the twists and turns, and even some of the players along the way. She reached a large recreation room.

Two men sat closest to her, playing cards, arguing over every card played, as if the other was trying to cheat them. This wasn’t new, Andrea wasn’t even sure if the two did anything else, or even sleep. She just smiled, walking past them.

Only one other person was in the room. She figured at this time, most were in the dining room, or watching the T.V. A young woman, sat in the far corner, in front of a canvass, engrossed in her work. Andrea sat next to the woman.

“What are you working on Bethany?” She asked, looking over her sister’s shoulder.
Bethany looked at Andrea and smiled, hugging her, getting some paint on her coat. “I missed you.”

Andrea smiled and kissed her sister’s cheek. “So, going to tell me what you’re working on here?” She asked, looking at the rudimentary picture. She could tell what it was, but felt it better for her sister to explain it.

Bethany smiled. “Well, this is us!” she pointed the brush at the two smallest stick figures. “This is mommy and daddy.” She pointed at the second set of figures on the page.

Andrea nodded, smiling. It still felt weird for her to hear her twenty-three year old sister refer to her parents, in such a child-like way. She knew why, but that didn’t help it be any less awkward.

“What you gonna get me for my birthday?” she asked, smiling at Andrea.

“Well, I haven’t decided yet. What do you want?”

Bethany shrugged. “I dunno…” she looked sad for a moment. “When is daddy coming back?”

Andrea felt tears in her eyes, looking at her sister. It was a question her sister always asked, and one she never had an answer to. She couldn’t understand how

Bethany could have so much love for the man who made her this way.

Instead Andrea nodded slightly and looked at the painting. “I don’t know.”

Bethany smiled. “Maybe he’ll bring me a puppy. I want a puppy.”

Andrea laughed and pulled her sister close and kissed her forehead. “Alright.”

The two sat in silence.

“Bethany, do you remember a Dr. Harper?”

Her little sister looked at her and nodded. “He was my doctor, I think. Been awhile since I’ve seen him.”

Andrea stood and patted her sister on the shoulder. “Sis, I got to get going.”
Bethany looked sad. “You’re not going to leave me, too, are you?”
Andrea stood in silence, looking at her little sister and smiled. “Of course not.”

Zacharia sat in the car, staring at the lighted clock on the dashboard. The numbers slowly ticked closer to eleven. The parking garage was quite, and only a few dim lights hung from the ceiling. He sighed, looking at the gun laying on the seat next to him.

The clocked flashed a new number as headlights filled the darkened garage. He couldn’t see the driver, but knew instinctively who it must have been.

He picked up the gun from beside him and slipped out of the car. Slowly the other car came to a stop, and he heard the motor stop, and saw the headlights shut off. A figure got out of the car. Zacharia saw Andrea Daveys step into the light.

Slowly he stepped from the shadows as well.

“Detective…” he said, softly.

She froze and turned to look at Zacharia. “M-Mister Kirkland.” Fear filled her eyes.
He moved closer, making sure the gun could obviously be seen. “I’m sorry…” he said.
“You don’t have to do this.” She reposnded.

“I…I can’t…stop…” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I did the right thing. Kirkland was a bad person…”

“I know…” she said softly. “What he did to your daughter was wrong…”

Zacharia laughed. “And your sister.” He smiled, seeing her eyes widen. “I wanted to make sure, when I heard your name. You’re Bethany’s sister. You’re father was innocent of the crime he took to his grave…”

She didn’t say anything, just stood there.

“You’re going to kill me?” she asked.

“I…” he looked at her. “I have to.”

She took a deep breath. “Do you?”

Zacharia waved the gun. “I can’t stop now. So many left.”

“I did research on you too.” She said, softly. “I went to the hospital where you worked. Six men died, during your operations. Did you kill them all?”

Zacharia smiled softly. “I did. I remember the first one. I read about him in the paper. Killed his wife, and her lover. Got off on a technicality.” He laughed softly. “And I gave him the justice he deserved.”

“You murdered him.”

Zacharia growled. “I did what was needed. I did the right thing.”

“The right thing?” she said softly, and looked at him. “Fine.” Detective Daveys stood straighter and nodded. “If killing me is the right thing. Do it.” She closed her eyes and waited.

Zacharia raised the gun, and pointed it at her. His hand started to shake. He couldn’t do it. Something was holding him back. “NO!” he cried, and screwed his eyes shut, and pulled the trigger.

October 28, 2008

Coin (Previously Zacharia) Opening

Coin opening (plus a little more). (could be considered Zacharia 3.2)

Andrea Daveys stood in the back of the gas station convenience store, staring at the container of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. The door to the freezer hung open before her, but the cold didn’t really bother her. She frowned, turning the frozen treat around in her hand, not really reading the information, just thinking. She hated ice cream. It had memories of her father that she couldn’t shake off. Gently she tossed it into the air, and catching it. She repeated this, still lost in her thoughts. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her sister.

She pushed the freezer door shut and made her way through one of the few isle in the store. The door opened to the store, with a faint beep. Andrea looked up and saw a young man wearing a jacket, his hands buried in the jacket’s pockets. She shook her head and looked to her left, seeing the row of candy. For a moment she wondered if a chocolate bar would be enough for her sister, instead of the ice cream. She sighed, knowing it wouldn’t be fair.

After a moment she gets behind the young man standing at the counter, buying cigarettes from the owner. Her cell phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. She didn’t bother go for it. The buzz was an alarm, set for 9:45pm. Her favorite show would be on in fifteen minutes. She watched as the owner moved slowly around behind the counter, getting the cigarettes. Moving the ice cream from her right hand, to her left, to relieve the cold, she groaned.

Time slowed as the young man pulled something from his right pocket. Andrea saw the gun in his hand as it moved to point at the owner. She felt her heart race, pounding hard against her ribs. Her eyes focused on the gun.

Her fingers went numb, and she dropped the ice cream. It hit the tile hard, breaking the cheap plastic seal, and sending the insides in all directions. She felt the cold splash against her leg, instantly knowing the man in front of her would have felt the ice cream as well.

He did. He turned to her. First his eyes, looking down in surprise, then, up at her. She reacted, instantly. Her right hand reached out and grabbed the young man’s hand. She followed with her left elbow, just below the man’s ribs.

The gun didn’t fire. She felt the man’s grip of the gun loosen, and she quickly grabbed for the barrel, preventing it from falling to the ground. The man himself stumbled backwards and fell onto his back, gasping for breath.

Andrea smiled slightly, feeling as if she did some good, before looking to the owner. He still looked frightened. “Don’t worry, I’m a cop.” She put the gun onto the counter. “And he should be just fine, just knocked the wind from him.”

The owner didn’t move.

She blinked and nodded. “I tell ya what. I’ll go to my car, I’ve got a radio, I’ll call this in. Afterwards, I’ll come back, and help you clean up the mess.” She smiled, trying reassure the man.

Andrea quickly left the store, and went to her car, parked near-by. She laughed softly, proud of herself. Not that she hadn’t taken down crooks before, it always felt good, slamming and elbow or knee into a bad guy. It also never usually goes down this simple. Sure, the ice cream was lost, and she’d have make something up to her sister, but that wasn’t going to bring her down.

She opened the driver’s door and reached in for the hand-set sitting on the middle of her dash. “This is Detective Daveys. There has been an attempted robbery. Suspect has been apprehended, could you please send back up. I’m at a gas station at the corner of Wilkens and Uni-” A loud bang cut her off. Her finger slipped off the button on the radio.

“Detective Daveys! What is going on?” the voice of the dispatcher over the radio came through.

“I don’t know…” She trailed off. Two more bangs came in quick succession.

Andrea dropped the radio and ran quickly to the front of the store. Just inside the glass doors, she saw the owner standing over the would-be-robber. Blood had splattered onto his shoes, and the bottom of his pants. He held the gun, pointed down, a gently stream of smoke coming from the barrel.



Zacharia placed the briefcase on the night stand. He slowly released the latches, doing his best not to make a sound. He smiled softly, looking to the sleeping man on the bed. He grimaced, and pulled a revolver from the briefcase, and gently resting it on the stand. Then, he took out a long thin cloth. Carefully he lifted the sleeping man’s head, and wrapping it around his head, creating a gag.

He released the man’s head, letting it fall back onto the pillow. A groan came from the sleeping man. Zacharia smiled slightly, taking a tape recorder from the case, and laying it by the revolver. The man let out a muffled cry beside him, and started to try and crawl away.

“Mr. Harper…” he said, his voice softy, but a haunting quality. Harper stopped, and turned to look at his attacker. Zacharia motioned to the revolver. “I could fire this before you had a chance to get to a window or door…” he paused, shaking his head. “I never miss…” he smiled. The gun was empty, but Harper didn’t need to know that.

Harper sat at the edge of the bed. Zacharia picked up a small case, as well as the tape recorder. He pressed the record button and smiled. “Now, Mr. Harper…” He smiled, watching Harper squirm on the bed. He placed the recorder on the bed and laughed softly.

Zacharia may have looked old, but he was still strong, stronger than the even older man sitting before him. He pushed Harper, making him fall back, and his feet to go into the air. He grabbed Harper’s right ankle, keeping it in the air. Zacharia used his free hand to pop open the case, revealing a scalpel resting on velvet.

He was good with his hands, and easily maneuvered the case in his hand, and took the scalpel, and let the case itself fall to the floor. “Well, now…Lets keep things simple...” In a quick swipe he cut the Achilles tendon Harper’s right foot. “That should keep you here...” He let go of the foot, hearing Harper cry out in muffled pain.

“Now…where to begin…” He picked up the tape recorder and looked at the small microphone build into the device. “Becky Daveys…” His mind went back over the research he had done before his arrival. “You were her pediatrician. At the age of twelve, she was found, alone in her home, tied up, molested…” he paused for a moment, remembering the data. “Her father was suppose to be watching her. Several days later, he was found dead, hung himself, in motel room. Becky currently resides in a mental institution, her mind…broken. She thinks she’s still 12. Stuck at that age for all her life…”

Zacharia paced the room, thinking, his mind lost for a moment. He looked to Harper. “You know who I’m talking about…” He smiled slightly. “How about Helen Kirkland?” He nodded. “Ten. Again, home alone, and the same treatment. No charges were filed. But her mother blamed her father. She left him. His grief ate away at him. Years later, he was left alone, his job gone. He was gone then…” He paused for a moment and walked over to Harper’s head.

“You know who I’m talking about?” He laid the recorder on the bed and leaned over, and pushed off the gag. “Well?”

“HELP!” Harper cried. In an instant, Zacharia slashes the scalpel across his face.

“DO YOU!” Zacharia hissed.

“YES!” he cried, tears welling up.

“You did that to those girls.” Zacharia’s hand tightened on the scalpel.

“Yes, I did! I’m sorry. Don’t kill me!”

Zacharia nods slightly. “I’m done.” He shook his head, looking at Harper. “I’m sorry it had to go this way…” He gave a quick swipe and slashed Harper’s throat, cutting it deep, causing a spray of blood.

Random Puns

Instead of doing the pop quiz this week, i think I'll slow it down and talk about random, and the source of the puns.

A long time ago, when I was much younger, i went by the handle Fighter for all. Different site, it went with my first yahoo email. As i grew, i distance myself from this handle, and really, it was bulky.

Along comes a radio show, and it's lovely live blog, which i used to go on, and make the same kind of ass out of myself i do here. I don't do that much, since when i was doing mock trolling, everyone hated me and didn't get the joke.

But back to the story. There i struggled to come up with a handle. I went by a few names, and even my own (in fl) to discuss the Florida bail out in the democratic primary. I finally settled on Random. A name that would allow me to do just about anything and defend it. I could say random shit, and do random shit, and everyone would just ignore it, or laugh. I could be the court jester, if you will.

From there, i joined 4F, and kept that up, even though i think i'm only kept around cause i'm young and they can tolerate my idiocy because of that. That aside...Not much else to say. It became who i am on here, and now, i keep it going. And it won't stop.

And why do I do the puns? well, that started with just posting things like "Random Comment" And grew.

October 27, 2008

Random Conspiracy

How the Jews, Women, Blacks, liberals, Illegals, and Asians are stealing the election for Barack Obama.

Gather round all you lovely people, while i tell you how the election is being stolen. First, the illegals take our jobs, so we can't pay for mortages. Then the blacks take all those low cheap loans, forcing us to take those adjustable loan thingies invented by the jews who want to take all our money. Then the Jews increase our rates, making us loose our houses, and making it impossible for us to vote cause we don't got no homes, and homeless can't vote.

Also, the Jews incontrol of the wall street make it collaps, and the asians across the seas make their wall streets collapse. This makes everyone think George Bush is a bad economic guy even though he cut taxes for everyone.

As if that wasn't enough, the womens force one onto my hero John McCain, and make him look like a pansy whipped bitch. I can't vote for a woman.

And of course, Finally, the liberals are stealing our vote with acorns, and making it impossible for real 'Mericans from voting.

All of this means Liberal Terrorist Muslin, Barack HUSSANE Obama will win.

October 25, 2008

Why Third Party Candidates suck!

Random's Thesis statement why Third Party Candidates should just crawl into a hole and DIE!

How many people here can name the last Time a "Third" Party candidate one the office of the Presidency? Well, Abraham Lincoln of the very young Republican Party. It was easier back then, you could go from town to town and talk with the people, show them your message.

Now, since so many people rely on the media, or other sources of information to learn about candidates and news on the candidates, it becomes harder to get your message out. Those Bat shit insane people who got enough signatures to be on the ballot will spend 6 weeks to 6 months bitching and moaning about how they can't get on debates, or get any media coverage. I mean, these people actually think that if people saw them up against the two "Main" parties, they'd win.

Ralph Nader is a perfect example. Everyone remembers him, right? The one who took votes from Gore so Bush could win? Well, Egotist Nader is running for President, once again. Again bitching how he can't get on the debates, never realizing he sounds like he's batshit insane. Also, he thinks the people would love him, despite most know him as one of the reasons we're in this hell hole of the last eight years.

So, back away from my rant on Nader, and Third Party candidates being insane. They complain about not being able to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and make it to presidency. Their supporters are just as freakish and annoying.
Here's an example:
So, Connecticut joins Maine, West Virginia, Oklahoma, and Louisiana as states that would rather perpetuate the two-party system, instead of allowing free and fair elections.

This is a response to a federal judge saying you can't force yourself onto a ballot. That seems to make sense to me, seems you should file everything properly and go by the rules, instead of demanding entitlement. But I am just a humble observer.

You want my solution to the bitching in moaning of these people? start small, build your party up. Get a grass roots thing going. Have the party win county or state seats, have them become known to the people. (who'd of thunk it, that maybe you should be known to the people, not the media, huh?) then move a little higher, get a house seat or two, in a state that knows your party, likes your party. Show you're not just the same as the two parties in power. Then slowly infect the states around it, move out, get your brand out there. Note, this will take years, and decades, but hey, maybe it'll be more productive then bitching and moaning about the media.

Then you, the third party wanna be president. Get YOUR face out there, 4+ years before you plan to run. become a congressman, or a governor. Appear on the talking heads, on Fox, MSNBC, CNN, CBS, ABC, others i've forgotten. The people will start to know who you are, recognize you, like you. Than, you come out as the Alternative to whoever's running. Hopefully in a year where it's a lesser of two evils kind of thing. (if you were smart, you'd have started all this in the mid nineties, and by the time of 2004, you might just be in the White House).

But...The third parties aren't that smart. They believe in trickle down politics. They believe in jumping on top of the building, instead of building a ladder.

That is why i hate Third Parties, and why every time i hear one of their supporters, or the candidates themselves bitch and moan. They complain about it not being fair, but don't try and change the system, or even think of different ways to do things. They just sit, and moan, and think anyone who doesn't believe in what they're doing are perpetuating an injustice.

In the end, Third Parties don't have the drive, or the balls to change anything. They just want attention. They want people to look at them. It's sad. And i beg of everyone, until a third party changes it's way of thinking, or it's strategy to the white house, don't pay attention. Maybe they'll learn

October 22, 2008

Zacharia (2.0)

Warning: Currently a second rewrite of a story posted within the last 12 hours, please read this version. Same warning applies, graphic content, weird shit, and general fucked-upness


Zacharia Kirkland slowly moved along the fragmented stone walkway. Each step made a soft click from the hard rubber sole of his shoes. He reached the double doors leading into the home. The doors themselves were more ornamental than practical, each adorned with large windows, with colored opaque glass. Gently he shifted his wait and passed the case from his right hand to his left.
He felt his hands start to sweat in the rubber gloves as he reached forward and slowly turned the doorknob. A soft click came from inside the door and Zacharia pushed the door open.
To his right, the passage led to the living room. It had a large ornamental rug, and two large chairs that faced towards a fire place. A couch sat against the far wall, with a large painting above it. He turned his head to the passage towards him that passed by an alcove containing a bookshelf.
Zacharia carefully stepped along the tile, doing his best not to make noise. He made his way through the maze of furniture and excess to reach a back bedroom. The door pushed open silently and a large bed sat in the middle of the room with a man sleeping on his back.
He moved to a nightstand and carefully removed the things on top of the stand, before laying down the case. He lifted the latches, taking his time, making as little noise as possible.
First he removed a small pistol. It wasn’t loaded, but it didn’t need to be. Than he removed a small pack of extra long zip ties, followed by a long piece of cloth. Finally an even smaller case, made of wood and initials carved into it.
Zacharia looked over to the sleeping man and sighed softly. He scanned the room, looking for the best advantage. He gently picked up the cloth from the nightstand and stood over the sleeping man. With his free hand he reached forward and opened the man’s mouth, than lifting his hand, so he could wrap the cloth around the sleeping man’s head, creating a gag.
He left the man’s head go. A soft grunt came from the man, but he didn’t wake up. Zacharia stood over him for a moment before bringing his hand up and backhanding the man. A muffled cry came as he woke up startled by the sudden attack.
“Good…” Zacharia said softly. The man tried to move away, scrambling across the bed. “I wouldn’t…” He gestured to the gun on the table passively, making sure the man saw it. “I think I could fire a shot before you’d get to a door or window.”
The man stopped moving, his eyes locked on Zacharia, tears starting to form. Zacharia just nodded and picked up the package of zip ties and the gun, walking over to the side of the bed the man had scrambled to.
“Arms out front…” Zacharia said. After a moment the man didn’t comply. “Do as I say, or you will die.” His arms sprung forward. Zacharia put the pack to his mouth and gently pulled the zip tie out of it using his teeth. He tossed the package aside and slowly wrapped the tie around the man’s wrists.
“Alright.” He pushes the man back down onto the bed. “This won’t take long.” Zacharia laid down the gun and walks over to pick up the small engraved box. He runs his thumb along the crack along the side. With a gentle push the box opened, exposing scalpels of varying sizes. He pulls one of the larger ones out, stopping at the feet of the man.
He looked at the man, twirling the scalpel between his fingers. “I’m sorry I can’t make this quick.” With a sift movement he slams the scalpel into the man’s leg above his ankle. A muffled pained cry came from the man. “But…” Zacharia pulled another scalpel out and slammed it into the other leg. “You don’t deserve that luxury.” The man laid on the bed, tears streaming down his face.
He sets the case down next to the immobilized man. “Now…Where to begin…” He slowly pulled a third scalpel from the case, and stared at the man. “Well, first…” He grabbed the bottom of the man’s shirt, and ran the blade along it, flicking it up as it got to the collar, slicing into the man’s chin. “Sorry…” Zacharia said, not really caring about the wound, as he tore away the shirt.
“So…Shall we begin?” He leaned over the man and held the steel instrument like a pen. “We’ll begin with…” he made three quick slashes, forming an ‘B’ on the man’s chest, “Bethany.” Zacharia slowly cut into the man’s flesh, forming out the name, talking. “You know what happened to her? Ran away from home at age sixteen. Went to jail three times before she was twenty. Killed last week by her pimp.” He looked up from the shallow wounds forming her name. “Ten years after you had your fun with her…”
Zacharia looked over the man’s body. “Then there was…” He again made three quick slashes on the man’s stomach, making a ‘Z’. He laughs softly to himself. “I always wanted to do that…” he looked back at the man. “Zoe.” He repeated the process as before, talking slowly. “The police accused her father, and he went to jail. She currently resides in a mental institution.” He let the blade travel a little longer and deeper at the end of the ‘e’. “She is seventeen, eight years after she knew you…”
Zacharia looked at the scalpel and gently wiped the blood off of it with his shirt. “Just one more…And I know you remember her.” He moved the scalpel to the man’s inner thigh. Carefully, and deeply, he started to carve the letters into his skin. First a ‘J’, than an ‘e’. “Jessica…” he said softly. “You killed her…And her mother killed herself.” He felt his hand tighten on the tool. “You bastard.” He cried and slammed the blade down onto the man’s crotch, unsure of where exactly where it landed, but heard a new louder cry of pain from the man.
His hand trembled as he let go of the scalpel imbedded in the man. “I-I’m sorry…” He said, slowing his breathing down. “I lost my cool.” Zacharia looked at his own watch. “It’s getting late…” he said, reaching down and pulling out the scalpels from his legs. He picked up the gun and pointed it at the man, seeing the fear in his eyes. Zacharia pulls the trigger. The man cries out as the gun gives out a soft click. “It’s not loaded…” He laughs softly and walks over to his case, looking down at the man. “I’d suggest getting those wounds looked at, some of them look pretty serious.” He took one of the bloody scalpels and slashed it across the man’s throat, cutting deep.
He puts away his things and closes the case. “Goodbye…” he says softly and leaves the man bleeding to death.

Zacharia reached the front door and saw a blonde haired woman standing in it’s opening. He slowed his steps, looking her over quickly. She wore blue jeans an a white shirt. She smiled at him.
“How did it go?” she asked.
He stopped. “Did you drug him Janice?”
“No…” she said, stepping outside. “He’s just a heavy sleeper.”
Zacharia shook his head, following her. “I’m not sure he even understand what was going on, only felt the pain…”
Janice stopped and turned to look at him. “Isn’t that the point?”
“No…” he stepped passed her, walking to the sidewalk. “This is justice, they must know their sins.”
“Good.” She laughed softly, following him. “Now, go home, get some rest.”

The next day came and Zacharia sat at the edge of his bed, in the small one bedroom apartment, staring at his left inner forearm. The radio was on, and playing some inane pointless soft rock. He gently picked up the scalpel beside him and carved a random design into the skin, before filling it with the name Joseph Harper. He stared down at the blood covered skin.
“That’s pretty sick.” A voice from the behind him on the bed.
He looked over his shoulder at Janice. “That doesn’t matter…”
She sighed and sat herself up. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Zacharia looks down at his arm. “I know…”
The radio started to crack with the top of the hour news update. “Hospital director Joseph Harper was found dead in his home. Witness reports have a man leaving her home about four in the morning. Police are keeping a lot of details under wraps, but sources say they have a suspect.”
Zacharia looked back at Janice. “Do you think they know?”
Janice shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” She smiled. “You won’t be caught.”
Someone knocked at his front door. He walked over and opened the door, seeing a woman, in her early thirties, on the other side. “Hello, ma’am.”
“Are you Zacharia Kirkland?”
“I am…” He frowned. He didn’t recognize the woman as a tenant.
“Is something wrong?”
“Have you been in contact with a Mr. Joseph Harper?”
“Yes…He had a job opening at his hospital…”
“Did you go see him last night?” She asked.
“Look, who are you? What is this about?” Zacharia felt his fists clench.
“I am Detective Andrea Daveys. Mr. Harper was killed in his home last night.”
Zacharia’s hand tightened on the cheap wooden door.
“Where you at Mr. Harper’s residence last night?” She asked again
“No…” He said.
“You were a surgeon, weren’t you?” She asked.
“I was. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Your daughter, her name was Jessica, correct?”
His felt his finger nails dig into his palm. “What is this about?”
She smiled softly. “Just checking on a few facts.” She bowed her head slightly. “I’ll leave you be for now.” He watched her walk away from the door. Zacharia slammed the door shut, making the room shake.
He turned his head to see Janice in the doorway. She frowned. “She knows…”
Zacharia nodded.
“She’ll need to be taken care of.”
“I can’t.” He said.
“It has to be done.”
“She’s not a bad person…” He stood, staring over the empty room.
Janice grabbed his shoulder, turning him to her. “Look, I know what I’m talking about. Who told you how to kill the lawyer, and make it look like a surgical accident?”
“You did…”
“That’s right, you’ve got to trust me. I know what is best.”
Zacharia didn’t say anything, he just looked to the ground.
“Think of it this way. She’s stopping you from getting the bad men. That makes her a bad person.”
“I…I…guess…” He said.
“You guess? It’s true. She’s stopping you from doing the right thing.”
“You’re right…”
“Good…Now, you’re going to have to do everything I say, understand.”
He nodded and looked up at her. “Yes.”

Andrea sighed, walking across the vacant parking lot of the police station. It was well passed midnight, she had spent most of her time doing research on her case. She reached her car and stuck her hands into her pockets for her keys.
“Miss Daveys…” a voice came from behind her.
She spun around and saw Zacharia standing about a dozen feet behind her. “Mr. Kirkland.”
“You shouldn’t have come looking for me…” he said softly.
It was then she noticed the gun in his hand. “Oh lord…” she felt like kicking herself for forgetting her side-arm at her desk. “Now…calm down…” she said.
“He was a bad man…” Zacharia said, taking a step forward. “He deserved what he got.”
“I know…” she said. “I read the case file…He killed her daughter and went to trail.”
“He got off!” He cried. “The bastard lawyer of his got him off!”
She stared at him as he started to laugh softly.
“But the lawyer got what was coming to him. It was lucky me. Half a year after the trail, he was under my knife, under my will.” He laughed.
“You killed him…” she said.
Zacharia laughed. “I did! And dozens more. One after another. One bad man after another. Each came under my knife.”
“That’s why you were discharged a year ago…”
“No!” He laughed even harder. “They felt bad for me. They thought I had the worst luck in the world, after the death of my daughter, my wife, and then having so many patients go south. They never thought I killed them.”
Andrea stood and nodded slightly. “I understand…” she said.
He took another step forward. “You can’t possible understand!”
She didn’t respond.
He started to cry. “Why did you have to come…”
“I…” she said softly, watching him.
“Why…Why…Why…” he said, tears now obscuring his vision.
“Zacharia, put the gun down. Is this what Janice would want?”
“Shut UP! You aren’t my WIFE!” He cried, putting his hands to his temples, as if trying to block something out.
“I never said I-”
“You aren’t her! She wouldn’t have me do this.”
“I don’t understand.” She said, watching Zacharia.
“Stop YELLING! Why don’t you just leave me alone!”
“What?”
“I can’t do it…” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t kill her. She’s not a bad person…”
“Mr. Kirkland.”
“Stay back!” he yelled, waving his hand that held the gun. “Stay back!”
“Okay…” she said, backing a few steps away.
“Please just leave me alone!”
“I can’t do that.” Andrea said.
Zacharia laughed. “Ha…I get it…” He gently pressed the barrel of the gun to his temple. “You’ll never leave…never…”
“NO!” Andrea cried, leaping forward.
A shot fired.
Zacharia fell to the ground, a gentle stream of blood coming from the hole in the side of his head. “Oh My God.” She dropped to her knees, felt his wrist in a vain attempt to find life. “No…No…No…” Andrea kneeled over the dead man, unable to save a life.