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Twins in Death: Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

A Bad Night


October 28th, 2002

2:25 a.m.


            Tommy was thinking, or at least trying to think. He was sitting at a table, a bowl of soup growing cold before him, just thinking. Sheila and Judy were in bed, as far as he knew anyways. He had been in bed but had been unable to sleep. He had gotten up and walked downstairs and made himself a bowl of soup. He hadn’t actually been hungry but he needed something to do. The bowl was growing cold in front of him; the crackers soaking up most the free liquid and turning it into a kind of porridge.


            He was thinking about people, about the kind of people one meets in this job. About the sort of people that would frequent that child brothel they had shot up a year and a half ago. Those people were the old types, the dinosaurs. They weren’t in it so much for sex; they wanted to have control. He imagined them sitting around broken down gentlemen’s clubs, smoking cigars, drinking brandy and thinking about how great they were. They would celebrate how great it was to be rich and white in a world where so many weren’t.


            They were dinosaurs from a bygone era. They would like to thrash people in the street for not acting the way they thought people should act. They felt that the class structure had collapsed and that the common man had gotten too uppity. That sort still wanted to make all the business deals in smoke filled backrooms.


            Those types were dying out because they hadn’t keyed into the fact that worldviews were spreading out. There are no smoke filled rooms on the Internet. The world had changed and they refused to. Yet, there were still young idiots, trying to clamber into those smoke filled rooms. Those were the ones you had to watch out for. Not the ones who refused to change but the ones who wanted to go back. They were the dangerous ones, because they didn’t have a clear idea of how the world worked. Just an idea of where they weren’t allowed.


            A man can be clear about this; there is injustice in the world. There is pain and misery. A normal mind can deal with this and can sort of ignore it most the time. People can say to themselves that bad things are going to happen and that’s the way it is. This is actually meant as a sort of self-regulating device. It’s used so that the average person can get to sleep at night. It’s only when one decided not to accept that good people are going to have bad things done to them that they have trouble. A disordered mind will attempt to make things right. A truly disordered mind will strive to fix things. When you combine that with the power that was enveloped in The Weirdo, you had a truly dangerous combination. You ended up with someone who not only wanted to box the gods around the ear hole for fucking it up, but also had the power to do it.

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August 30, 2013 Posted by | Fiction | , | Leave a comment