“There is something fundamentally wrong with society. We fracture our ethics and morals in pursuit of a never ending goal. If the human race survives for another century, there will be a blip on the timeline during our existence indicating where we broke humanity into pieces.

There are rules in place for a reason. I know it is human nature to rebel, but isn’t there a line that should not be crossed? When do we stop trying to destroy everything and each other, and start building everything up, like it should be?

You are here today because you specifically did not follow the rules. Traditions carry on because they have proven over and over again to be the true way of doing things. That is the reason they have survived time! They pass down through the generations because our ancestors survived on rules and traditions. It is why some family threads end and become forgotten with the fog of time. It is why you are here. Do you understand now?”

A woman in her mid-forties lying on a folding table tried to mumble something through the sock in her mouth. A young casually dressed man with unkempt brown hair stood over her. He had a tender smile that was no more than a smirk. He winced and rubbed furiously along the middle of his forehead. He stopped and smiled at her again. It was wide and full of teeth.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot you were gagged, Melody,” Dale giggled to himself in a flamboyant drawl.

The woman carried on trying to scream again and convulsed her body. She was secured to the table and unable to move. It had holes at each corner of the table; hand drilled, where cable ties holding her wrists and ankles to the table went through and tightened together underneath into a web. Dale had worked out the schematics for this table and worked at it for weeks. No one could escape it.

“I don’t need an answer, because it would be wrong,” Dale chuckled to himself more than to Melody. Dale found entertainment in most things he said and thought it was going rather well for his first time.

“The answer is, Miss. Melody, your pants. Now I’m sure they’re from the newest line of some overrated fashion designer, but sweetie, they’re white, and it’s after Labor Day. In fact, it’s past Columbus Day, I gave you over a full month to stop wearing them, but you insisted and insisted on making them work. And they didn’t work, that’s the sad part. You wore them with a brown blazer. You did have some exquisite jewelry though. I’ve never seen such a nicely cut sapphire. You take great care of it.”

Melody’s attempts at screaming were taking their toll on her throat. She tried prying the sock loose with her tongue but it was jammed in there deep. Even if she had, she would have been wasting her voice; Dale’s basement was soundproof. It was a gift from his mother to practice his music.

Now, it was nothing more than an ultra-clean facility with plastic tarps as walls while the same tarps lined the ground. He even had an official looking doctor tray that Melody imagined was filled with horrific tools of torture.

“You will be happy to know, this will be ever so quick. Even though I thought there should be a little more torture involved. You know, for all the distress you put people through wearing white, ugh, disgusting.”

Dale rubbed his temple for a moment to collect himself. He turned from Melody and picked up a large needle filled with cloudy yellow liquid. He rubbed his head with his free hand.

“It’s basically a lethal injection; it’s made up of…well, like three things or something. I have a friend who-“

Dale winced. He spoke with a calm, factual tone.

“The liquid is made up of Pentobarbital, which could kill you on its own except it would be painful, Pancuronium Bromide to relax the muscles, and Potassium Chloride to cease your heart. Did you follow all that?”

Dale smiled sleepily and nodded. Melody looked at him in horror, wet streaks running from the corner of her eyes down her temples and into her hair. She looked at the ceiling and let her tears flow in a silent cry. She was giving up and she knew it. She would never see her husband again. Two years of saving for their first trip together, a modest vacation in Canada, would never become a memory for them.

You dolt, she didn’t need to know all of that.
It helped her relax.
How could that have helped her relax?
People relax when things are explained to them.
You know something; you are downright dreadful at social skills.
Social skills are not required for what we’re doing.
Honey, yes they are.
Despite that, would you like to do the injection?
You have smoother hands.
Well, don’t mind if I do

Dale, smiling ear to ear placed the needle point on the crux of Melody’s elbow. He held it there for a second and took a deep breath and pressed in. He injected the liquid in smoothly and he stepped back.

Should we explain how we plan to remove her body?
Did you listen to literally, anything I said?
Why would she want to know that?
Because we have to cut her limbs off first, and then grind everything up in plastic bags.
Then we can bake.
You’re going to tell her the whole plan aren’t you spud?
Then drop them at the homeless shelter.
I thought we were going to drop them off at church, you know, for Jesus and all?
Homeless people need it more.
Homeless people will eat shit if there is enough corn in it sweetie.

Dale hadn’t noticed Melody had drifted away early in his conversation. He shrugged when he did notice and walked back up the stairs still conversing.

Did you see those kids outside?
That one was wearing socks with sandals.
They’re children.
Fine. I’m pretty sure that guy down the street had a popped collar on his polo.
Too easy.
What about that sassy girl at the pharmacy.
Which one?
The one wearing leggings as pants.
She is a good choice.
Right, that’s why I said it.”

Dale flicked off the florescent lights and closed the basement door. He had a busy schedule ahead of him, but first he would eat dinner.


Part 2 will be out Wednesday, Part 3 on Thursday, then Part 4 on Friday.

4 thoughts on “NEUROSIS STREET: PART 1

  1. Pingback: NEUROSIS STREET: PART 2 | I Smell Carrots

  2. Pingback: NEUROSIS STREET: PART 3 | I Smell Carrots

  3. Pingback: NEUROSIS STREET: PART 4 | I Smell Carrots

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