White City Murder Expo

In the rare moments when my sanity would suddenly kick in, I'd go back to my little pharmacy trying to salvage what little reputation I had left, to no avail.My little buddy finally ran away too, and I had to do everything by myself.Even in this special period of customers everywhere, if you don't pay attention, you can still screw up everything easily.I started to list the store for sale, the price is neither low nor high, if no one comes to ask within this week, it will not be too late to lower the price.

I wandered from pub to pub all day and woke up in a different place every day, it was scary at first but soon I got used to waking up to see a complete stranger in shorts coming out of the bathroom, Then I say goodbye to him.Some of them wanted my contact information, so I told them the number of the door of the pharmacy. If they went, they would see a closed door with a "for sale" sign on it.I wandered around in different taverns to find and try to invite those young people who looked like Sirian to come and spend the night with me. The oldest of them was probably no more than 25 years old. I don’t know how many people there were. The backyard of Sirian’s It is almost impossible to bury it.When I plunged a shovel in and got stuck on a bone in one hand, I realized I needed to find another way.So I divided the body into pieces, put them in sacks and threw them into the river at night. As for some finely divided tissues and those sundries that I found dropped when I was cleaning up later, I threw them into the sewer.Not a good idea, soon my pipes were clogged, and it smelt so bad I didn't want to clean it myself.But if you call a plumber, there's no guarantee he won't notice something's wrong, and I can't bet on the possibility that he'll play dumb for taking my tip.

I had the windows wide open every day, and drank a lot of alcohol to numb my sense of smell, and it took me a long time to pick a proper plumber.After making a phone call to ask them to come to the door, I will stop at the door and test their personality and family situation first.I said my wife is not here now, she is worried about letting me watch the construction and settlement, she is afraid that I will be cheated; at this time, those grumpy people will fly into a rage and say: "Fucking sissy, Do you think I'll blackmail you with that little money?" With a bunch of swear words attached, that's not acceptable.Some people have milder personalities, but it is a pity that there are relatives who will report to the police as soon as they disappear.

If the sewer problem isn't fixed, I won't be able to bring new people home, and I'll have to share a bed with my old quiet friends every day, and even the last one I've known has started to smell bad.I tried bathing him, it didn't work.

Finally, I found a taciturn bachelor, not very tall, and very quick at things.He also complained about the strange smell from the sewer at first, and first took out a cheap ring, a bunch of hair, and a handkerchief, "You can't throw everything down the sewer, didn't your mother ever tell you?" He said, Immediately afterwards, a half-rotten finger was pinched out.He turned his head and saw my gun pointed at his head.I asked him to clean it up for me, and I'd pay him what he wanted, plus tips; he kept emphasizing that he'd pretend he didn't know anything.After cleaning the sewers, I put away the gun, gave him the money, and sent him out.His hand was on the doorknob. At this moment, I took off the loose tie and strangled his neck from behind.

**

I've met a man who looks the most like Cirrian, but I don't like his calculating eyes.Later, he ran away and reported the crime. Not long after, the police in Chicago took me away and charged me with intentional injury and sodomy.I couldn't help laughing while taking notes.me?I molested him?He doesn't have a job, he's just trying to blackmail me, maybe he's the real gay.I could see the officers sitting across from me shaken, trying to steer clear of the sodomy discussion.Regarding the injury on the man's body, I thought about it and decided that I could admit it. In this way, I finally paid a fine and left smoothly.

The night I left the police station, I put the gun in my pocket, went to the man's house, and found out he had a child.After knocking on the door, he saw me and was terrified, but I gave up the idea of ​​killing him, and gave him all the money I had on me, crying and apologizing that I don't know why things turned out like this.For a moment, he seemed to want to say "it's okay," but presumably he couldn't easily say the word of forgiveness in the end.In the end he just accepted the money silently. "Please don't bother me," he said. "I'll move."

Leaving his apartment, I wiped my tears on my sleeve and walked down the street with the evening breeze feeling surprisingly light, like stepping out of a church prayer room.I know I won't change.The next person I meet I still say, "Would you like to come over to my house for a drink?"

**

I really don't know how many people I killed before and after, but I remember my last one, he was a poet and a homeless man, he was the only one among so many people who really volunteered to come with me, I killed him with a sandwich bought him.This is a very weird guy, even though he found himself tied up in the basement when he woke up, he didn't show much panic, and even quickly accepted the situation.

"Aren't you scared?" I asked.

"If I'm afraid you can keep me from killing me, I'm afraid," he said.

I laughed when I heard it, he was very interesting.I often chat with him, and occasionally share some drinks with him, and he also likes to drink very much.And he always speaks so boldly, he still asks when I evade, and he doesn't seem to worry at all that I will kill him in a fit of anger.

"You have things you don't say," he said. "You keep saying things you've said a thousand times over and over again, and things that you can say just don't make sense."

I told him I was completely honest about my marriage and my life.Although they are fragmented and illogical, I have laid everything out.

"I mean the things you avoid yourself too."

He said, and suggested that I write it down, such as starting with a thing I don't want to recall.

"I don't know what good it does."

"It's nothing good, and you might go to hell," he said, "but you're bored anyway."

"You're the fucking bored."

"You're right. I have nothing to do here."

This time the conversation apparently fell apart.I hated him talking like that, and in retaliation I didn't show up for dinner that night.After this, though, I couldn't help thinking about what he said.How can a man hide something from himself?Are there any of my painful memories that I have never mentioned once?Start with a thing that you don't want to remember...

I sat at the dining table, spread out the paper, and hesitated to write down the last quarrel between Matilda and me.At first I didn't know where to start, and soon, I was just writing, line after line in a numb manner, folding the paper, putting it in an envelope, putting a stamp on it, and mailing it.On the way back, I suddenly didn't know what I was doing when I went out just now.

Later, I received a reply letter. There was no greeting at the beginning of the letter, but only two very scribbled lines:

Did you kill your wife?

Please don't contact me again.

There are no words to describe the shock and bewilderment I felt when I first read these two lines.I don't even remember sending a letter and getting it back, but as I unfolded the letter at the dinner table, the same scene brought back the memory of the vanished letter.Somehow I can recall every detail so vividly, as if I were repeating the letter I wrote in a trance.

Matilda asked me for a divorce that day, and she confessed that she had an affair with a man who was more accomplished than me.A violent argument ensued, she slapped me and I hit her, I slammed her head against the cabinet, ignoring her horrified cries, once, twice, three times - the goldfish bowl was hit It fell to the ground and shattered, the muddy water three fingers high turned into a pool of smudges on the ground, and the goldfish bounced on the ground.Matilda's body slipped to the ground, I was suddenly stunned, and wanted to walk towards her again, and the weird feeling of the goldfish being crushed left on the soles of my shoes.

Yes, I killed my wife.She didn't go to Philadelphia, Florida, Ohio, Baltimore, New York, Paris...or anywhere in the world.She went nowhere, for I killed her and buried her in the garden.

Mother.I held my head and sat down slowly, sitting on the ground.

……

……

Saturday, October 28th, was a very different day than usual. The poet in the basement escaped with my acquiescence.I myself left the Sirian's, leaving nothing but a mess; I returned to my own house, cleaned the house, and at two o'clock in the afternoon I fetched Butcher from the hospital.Sitting in the co-pilot seat, he was in a trance, holding a newspaper that I casually gave him in his hand, and his eyes seemed to be completely lost on it, but after a while, he suddenly said that the closing ceremony of the upcoming World Expo would have many Celebrities attend.

"Oh," I turned my head and glanced at him, feeling that he was a little smarter than when I first led him out, "welcome back to the real world, baby."

Back home, Butcher was shocked by the cleanliness of the house again.He stopped and walked, seemingly at a loss, I made him a cup of coffee, kissed his forehead, and urged him to change into formal clothes.

"Where are we going?" Butcher asked.

"It's hard to say."

After he changed his clothes, he stood in front of me in confusion.It was the first time I looked up at him and didn't feel small.

"I'm a bit sleepy," he said. "Coffee doesn't help."

I held his hand, helped him sit on the sofa, hugged him gently, let his head rest on my chest, and stroked his soft curly hair.

"Those medicines are still working. Get some sleep and I'll call you at dinnertime."

"Will you call me?"

"I will." I assured him.

Soon, his breathing became light and steady.

**

Dear Butcher, I remember many things about you.For example, your first nocturnal emission was at the age of 14.I was looking around for my keys that morning and found your panties out of the trash.

After that, for a period of time you always walked against the wall at home, as if you stole something from me.You didn't call me Papa or Sue after that, and we sat facing each other, and you just stared at the kippers on your plate while you talked to me.You no longer hold my hand.You and I went to the supermarket together, and when you saw your classmates from the gaps in the shelves, you immediately lowered your head.I know you don't like me going to parent-teacher conferences, but if your mom is here, you don't like having her go, really.

I never blamed you, but I couldn't forget the time when we were so good, when you were young.

Do you remember those stories I told you?In the last century, Captain Cook landed on the west coast of Queen Island, Australia.They saw huge rabbits, hopping upright, carrying their young in front pockets.A crew member pointed to them and asked the local aborigines, who said: "Kangelu." Yes, they are kangaroos.Much later, they learned the local meaning of the word: "What did you say?"

Now you are not interested in hearing this story anymore, but you should really see how happy you were when you heard it.That was when you could still sit on my lap and act like a baby.

Since when did you love me again?Since when did you start shaving without cutting your own face?Without knowing it, I missed a lot, and I have eighteen thousand drunk experiences.But that time, the time after I dispose of the body for you, I don't know if it pointed us to this ending.I don't know if I should regret or fear, or both.Are you afraid?We're almost there.

With the shore in sight, I drove over the overturned fence and straight out onto the mirror-smooth surface of the lake.There was complete silence, all I could hear was my heartbeat, the sound of the car, and the thud of the trunk.

I put the pedal to the floor.

--THAN--

Hello everyone, this is the end of the text!There will be two extra stories in the future, but I will put the postscript here first.Although this article is not long, it has been delayed for more than a year due to various reasons such as the author taking the college entrance examination. I am very grateful to all the readers who have been following the article from the beginning to the present.During this year, I have experienced many changes, whether it is the real situation or the state of mind, I don’t know if these changes will be reflected in the serialization process.It’s disgusting to say, because No.1 is called writing, Suy’s state of mind is closely related to the author and me. Everyone watched it for a long time, but I was actually moaning in pain through the character (good news! I’m really sick now), frankly To put it bluntly, one of my great expectations in writing is that people who read it can understand me and feel me, even if it is one out of ten.I won a small award for a short science fiction novel last year, and my family knew about it and read it. After reading it, I felt very negative, and then there was no more.I'm the kind of person who will pretend nothing happened if I didn't get the desired result after trying it out. I didn't mention to them that I was diagnosed with some mental problems and I was taking medicine. I was very lonely, but think about it. Each has its own difficulties, but nothing special.

It is now 2021:11 am on November 27, 01, my 30th birthday.I wish myself a happy birthday, and I wish you all good health and success when you see this place. I hope we will see you again in the future.