Each and every time I asked Dad what he was doing in the basement, his answer was always the same.
“I’ll show you when you’re old enough.”
I imagined he meant old enough to drive, so that I could dispose of bodies for him in the woods. Or maybe old enough to drink, so that I could scout out our next victims at dive bars. Or, possibly, old enough to own a gun, so that I could more efficiently partake in the slaughter.
See, one thing you should know about my father is: he’s a total serial killer.
Oh, he hides it well enough from the outside world. But, truth be told, I’ve known his dirty little secret for years.
At just fifteen, I caught sight of of father-dearest dragging a bundled-up tarp out the front door in the dead of night. Then came the bloody stains on his clothing, the terrified screams from downstairs, the endless string of attractive one-night-stands. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
Whatever carnage Dad is into, I do know one thing for sure: I can’t wait to join in the fun. Together, we’re going to make the perfect team- father and son, reeling in and disposing of our prey like fishing buddies. It’s practically my birthright.
Mere days after my 18th birthday, Dad finally decides to bring me into the loop.
Eloquently as ever, he explains to me the nature of his murderous calling; how, ever since mom left him years ago, he has ravaged and murdered beautiful women for sport.
“Spencer, I want you to carry on my legacy” he announces, and to this, I merely nod in awe.
Proceeding to the basement, I discover that it’s every bit as nightmarish as I’d hoped. Chains, meat cleavers, piles of disembodied limbs- it’s all down there. For hours, I giddily pore over the various instruments of torture. Just holding them in my hands, I can feel their true weight; all the lives they’ve taken, all the misery they’ll inflict.
“This is awesome, Dad!” I cackle.” You know- you really didn’t need to wait this long to tell me all this.”
“Well, son” Dad smirks, a hint of malice appearing in his voice. “As I mentioned before, I did need you to be old enough…”
He pauses- and smiles.
“Old enough for the death penalty.”
In the distance, I hear police sirens blaring.
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“I’ll show you when you’re old enough.”
I imagined he meant old enough to drive, so that I could dispose of bodies for him in the woods. Or maybe old enough to drink, so that I could scout out our next victims at dive bars. Or, possibly, old enough to own a gun, so that I could more efficiently partake in the slaughter.
See, one thing you should know about my father is: he’s a total serial killer.
Oh, he hides it well enough from the outside world. But, truth be told, I’ve known his dirty little secret for years.
At just fifteen, I caught sight of of father-dearest dragging a bundled-up tarp out the front door in the dead of night. Then came the bloody stains on his clothing, the terrified screams from downstairs, the endless string of attractive one-night-stands. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
Whatever carnage Dad is into, I do know one thing for sure: I can’t wait to join in the fun. Together, we’re going to make the perfect team- father and son, reeling in and disposing of our prey like fishing buddies. It’s practically my birthright.
Mere days after my 18th birthday, Dad finally decides to bring me into the loop.
Eloquently as ever, he explains to me the nature of his murderous calling; how, ever since mom left him years ago, he has ravaged and murdered beautiful women for sport.
“Spencer, I want you to carry on my legacy” he announces, and to this, I merely nod in awe.
Proceeding to the basement, I discover that it’s every bit as nightmarish as I’d hoped. Chains, meat cleavers, piles of disembodied limbs- it’s all down there. For hours, I giddily pore over the various instruments of torture. Just holding them in my hands, I can feel their true weight; all the lives they’ve taken, all the misery they’ll inflict.
“This is awesome, Dad!” I cackle.” You know- you really didn’t need to wait this long to tell me all this.”
“Well, son” Dad smirks, a hint of malice appearing in his voice. “As I mentioned before, I did need you to be old enough…”
He pauses- and smiles.
“Old enough for the death penalty.”
In the distance, I hear police sirens blaring.
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