Honesty isn’t really somethin’ I am known for—but I’ll give it a try and see how it goes. I’m proud of who I am and it’s time for the world to know me.
It started when I was ten. A keen fresh-faced little bugger who liked to ride his bike and skip rocks in the water. Play baseball sometimes, even though I was shit at the game. I tried. I also enjoyed a good fight. Not the snot nosed sissy kind. But the drag you down to the ground and pummel you kind. Those made me very happy.
First there were frogs. Microwaving them was fun. Ripping their legs off one by one when they were still alive, even better. The best was squishing them in my hands as hard as I could. Did you know a frog’s eyes pop out of their sockets if you squeeze them just right?
When frogs became boring, I moved on to bigger and more exciting subjects. I got real creative with the games I’d play with them as well. The prey is my addiction, I’ll admit to that. I always liked to keep a little somethin’, you know, to remember ‘em by. Those were hidden somewhere safe.
Where I’m living, its not all that great. There’s too much steel and concrete closing me in. And I don’t have a say about what I do and when. But I guess in some ways its better. My Mama feels safer when I’m here and that should say somethin’.
How I got here is kind of a funny story. I was on one of those quiet country side-roads, in a truck I’d lifted recently. About fifty yards away lying on the road, was the knocked out prey I’d been keeping for my entertainment. She was a real beauty, gymnast or some such and flexible as hell.
I was trying to recreate the same look I’d get in them frogs after, you squeezed them little buggers. So I revved up the engine and put the truck in drive, as I speed up I hoped and prayed I’d get her good.
The truck was buzzing along alright, cuz when I went over her I felt a special kinda crunch that reminded me of the way frogs popped in my hands when I was little. Let me tell yah, under the tires of a four by four that is truly a feeling to cherish.
Dangit, I was so excited I near jumped out the truck to have a look. But instead I pulled the truck off to the side first, hopped out and had a look. She was smashed to smithereens and it was spectacular.
You could say I was a little side tracked, which is why when the red lights lit up my work on the girl I was pleased, instead of worried. I never did say I was smart. But when the siren started I finally looked up. An officer was making his way over with his gun out. Shit I’d thought, I’m done for.
“Put your hands up and get down on the ground,” He yelled.
I did what I was told. I’m not that stupid.
I thought I was through, caught for damn sure. I’m not proud of this, but when the cop came near, I cried.
“Please call an ambulance,” I bawled, “I didn’t see her laying there sir. I rolled right over her with he truck. I can’t believe I didn’t even see her.” I blubbered like an sorry idiot.
As a kid with a clean record they want to believe that deep down inside you’re good or moral. Which is why all I got was time for the lifted truck and reckless driving bit. Did you know they still haven’t found out what happen’ to that poor girl and how she ended up on the road like that?
Three more months—that’s how much longer I have ta shit in front of all these mofo’s. Then I’ll be free. I’ve done some thinkin’. Cause thinkin’s all you got in here. And I’ve come up with some pretty fun ideas on how to entertain myself when I get out.
*
Brookelynn Berry is a dead sexy writer (not that kind of dead sexy writer, I mean, she’s not dead, but she is sexy 😉 and her work can be found floating around the world. Check Brookelynn out on her blog or around Twisted Sister, and be careful, she bites 😉
Another part in the Frogs n’ Shit series can be found over here — Strike n’ Smash.
Twisted Sister lit mag 