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July MWC

2009-08-01 22:20:13 by amador10 /15658

God fucking dammit, I swear if Nesani doesn't return my fucking magazine tomorrow, I'll kill him. I'll yank his eyes out, put my fist through his throat, suffocate him from the inside, and chew his penis right out. I'll then force his bloody member into his trachea, if I were so inclined. Don't get me started on the finishing blow, it is so graphical and violent beyond imagination. Wait, what were you saying? Someone's behind me...?

...oh...Hello! Didn't see you there. As you can see, I am a bit tied up at the moment so I can't really help you. Come back in 10-20 minutes. By that time, we will have already sorted out what needs to be sorted out so that we can sort out what you need to sort out. So please, don't come back in 10-20 minutes. It is for your own satisfaction. Enjoy your stay at the Arkham Hotel!

Now where was I... ah, yes! That sister of mine was a fine singer. She was one of the most powerful figureheads in the operatic industry. I have always loved her, from the way she used to sing me lullabies when I was a wee child, to the times she would always help me through rough spots when I was in my teenage years.

I remember how, when I was so sad because our parents died when I was 7, that she promised to take good care of me. She asked me what I wanted to have. I guess I just replied that I wanted her. She giggled at my reply, and lifted me so high above the ground, it's as if we were reaching for the sun. We had a good 9 years together. And when I was always down in the dumps, she always told me to move forward. To reach for the sun. To take to the skies.

I guess I haven't been able to do that.

Some really evil men put poison in her before-show drink. When she drank it, her voice became raspier than a broken speaker. However, she knew that the show had to go on. She took the stage in all her glory, got the microphone, put it near her mouth, and spoke.

No words came out of her mouth.

She tried hard to sing. To speak. To yell. To scream out loud. But she only managed to cry. She wanted to please the thousands of people in the audience right now. Instead, she only managed to make them throw rocks at her. Disgrace rained from the skies, and my sister got hit with every drop.

The next day, I found her in her room, dangling from the ceiling.

This affected me radically. She was my role model. She was my guide. She was my beloved sister. She was my everything. I couldn't live without her. Which is why I wanted my then-girlfriend to have her voice. I wanted them to have her hair. I wanted them to have her eyes, her lips, her skin, her bosoms, her ass... I wanted them to be her.

At the start, she was very permissive of dressing like her. She knew I was a troubled man, so she wanted to please me. I saw, before my eyes, a carbon copy of my sister. From head to toe, I knew she was my sister. I knew she was my beloved.

Soon, however, she was becoming more and more convinced that I was borderline crazy. So she left me. My girlfriend of 3 years left me. My sister left me. The thought of that drove me insane every night. I can't bear the nightmares of me being raised so high in the sky, then suddenly dropping to the flaming abyss that is hell. I can't bear the thought of isolation, being disconnected from society with no one to talk to, just like everyday furniture.

So I kidnapped her.

I turned her into my doll. My very own personal doll. I can dress her any way I want, any time I want, anywhere I want. That last part I can't exactly do, since I have her gagged and bound in my apartment. But still, it's nice to feel like I have my sister around. Whenever I play with her, I feel like I was 7 again.

When I try to talk to her, though, she just sits there, looking at the floor. I don't like her not talking to me. It reminds me of how my sister became mute. I don't like getting reminded at how my sister became mute. So I threatened her with a gun. If she doesn't talk, I shoot her. If she does, I fuck her. I have always wanted to fuck my sister, but I never got the chance.

She did talk. She uttered the words "I want to die."

Her face is as blank as when my sister lifelessly dangled from the ceiling. Her face reminded me of my beloved sister hanging herself in her room. Her face... was ugly.

So I shot her.

Her lifeless body just sat there, expressionless. Her body teased me, like a stripper beckoning me to spend my money on her. Her body wanted me. I knew it in my mind. I knew she wanted to fuck me.

So I did.

I put it in her vagina. It was a wonderful experience, fucking a lifeless body and all that. It was like masturbating over pictures of my sister, only much more rigorous. And I'm the only one doing all the work.

Soon, however, I heard police sirens. They knew I killed my ex-girlfriend. They knew it from some guy who called 911 when he heard my AK47 going into overdrive. I asked myself why I didn't put a silencer, and threw the body out the window into the dumpster below my apartment. I then tried to clean up the mess. When police stormed my apartment, they saw no trace of her. At that moment, I felt like I'm gonna be able to escape arrest.

That is, until they looked at my pants. There was blood all over my crotch. I pleaded with them that it was just an experiment with ketchup gone wrong, but they wouldn't listen. Plus, they saw blood dripping from over my windowsill. At that moment, it was obvious.

I killed my sister.

I then spent the next 7 years of my life in this shit hotel. I can't believe it, I killed my sister and I got an apartment in a hotel. And I can stay for as long as I like! If this was paradise, I plan on staying forever. And I think this is paradise. A paradise I can't escape.

Well, it is sleep time, so come back tomorrow for another episode of "Ruminations of the Crazy Guy in Room 10-B"! It's always on at 1:00 pm, the time when the hotel doctor regularly checks my health. So please, continue to support my show! I love you all!

...did he leave already? Okay, now where was I? Ah yes, let me tell you about the story of my sister... wait, I was saying something about a Nesani? I don't know no Nesani, so shut up as I tell you the story of my beloved sister...


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