The Cults, the Brain, the Meat Pt. II
I haven't typed for a while because while my stories are even more disturbing...they are also true, and as a supervisor I have a different responsibility to typing about them. Until I figure the balance out, the Weirdness will have to wait. But I'll start keeping up with this again, I promise. 'Sorry'.
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Even now the building became colder, the shadows darker, and my co-workers further from me. I didn’t show a visible shudder…but it was there all the same.
The investigator looked at me and asked what I thought, and I returned the stupid look that he deserved. There was no thinking here just yet—there was only the realization that I was in a building used for the processing of human flesh and who or what would do such a thing, not to mention the reasons why, were somewhat out of grasp at the moment. Which is why I asked for the now scarcely found cigarette. Cigars were my choice for crime scenes, but I wasn’t one for structure and keeping well-stocked. God…I just wanted to be normal, not have to remember to buy cigars in the event of corpses appearing now and then. Well, not always anyway.
Others had already begun the mundane tasks of locating property owners, lease documents, and tax records. It wasn’t long before they were located and just as long before they couldn’t be found…but eventually a name came up as well as a body to match it. I talked to him; I was cool.
“When was the last time you were here, Mr. Ramsey?” I asked. The gentleman was in his early 40’s, white, well kept, and scared. He hid it as best he could, but there was no mistaking the shifting of his eyes, hands, and feet. “I rented it in August, that’s all. That’s what I do, I rent property for people, I don’t keep it up I don’t even see it much beforehand. Look at it, Christ.”
“It’s October, man. Look around. Know what that is over there?” I pointed to a scrap of pink remains pushed up against the corner of the back steps of the home and where they met the sidewalk. “Brains, man. Brains. And not cow or pig. Do you get what I’m saying?” The guy was a statue. He got what I was saying.
“What’s happened here is something no one has been able to wrap their heads around—so to speak. To be honest, I’m pretty fucked up about it myself. Can’t think. Still hard to breath. And all I have to show for my work so far is you, which puts you right…about…here”, I said as I held up my flattened palm just below my nose. Who’d you lease this to? What’s their name? And is this the only place?”
The comment broke the statuesque pose of Mr. Ramsey who had been holding his mouth agape for the last two minutes while I rambled, and he snapped-to like a man coming out of a trance on a hypnotist’s stage. “Yes! “ he exclaimed, shaking unseen cobwebs from his face as he did so. “Cowart Street, near the stockyards! A whole house! I have the address here..in the car…”
I took it and handed him over to a co-worker. He wasn’t done. None of us were, including the flies who had just started a shift of their own. God, I hope it wasn’t going to be too hot out here today.
I left, and called for a Uniform in another district to meet me near the new house on Cowart, but none were available at the moment. Fucking city…too many barking dogs, not enough tax base.
I waited a few minutes, and opted for a ‘preliminary’ drive by like we were taught on all raids; that’s when I saw him, and stopped to get out. ‘What the fuck’, I thought. It was already weird as it was. How much worse could it get?
_______________________________
Even now the building became colder, the shadows darker, and my co-workers further from me. I didn’t show a visible shudder…but it was there all the same.
The investigator looked at me and asked what I thought, and I returned the stupid look that he deserved. There was no thinking here just yet—there was only the realization that I was in a building used for the processing of human flesh and who or what would do such a thing, not to mention the reasons why, were somewhat out of grasp at the moment. Which is why I asked for the now scarcely found cigarette. Cigars were my choice for crime scenes, but I wasn’t one for structure and keeping well-stocked. God…I just wanted to be normal, not have to remember to buy cigars in the event of corpses appearing now and then. Well, not always anyway.
Others had already begun the mundane tasks of locating property owners, lease documents, and tax records. It wasn’t long before they were located and just as long before they couldn’t be found…but eventually a name came up as well as a body to match it. I talked to him; I was cool.
“When was the last time you were here, Mr. Ramsey?” I asked. The gentleman was in his early 40’s, white, well kept, and scared. He hid it as best he could, but there was no mistaking the shifting of his eyes, hands, and feet. “I rented it in August, that’s all. That’s what I do, I rent property for people, I don’t keep it up I don’t even see it much beforehand. Look at it, Christ.”
“It’s October, man. Look around. Know what that is over there?” I pointed to a scrap of pink remains pushed up against the corner of the back steps of the home and where they met the sidewalk. “Brains, man. Brains. And not cow or pig. Do you get what I’m saying?” The guy was a statue. He got what I was saying.
“What’s happened here is something no one has been able to wrap their heads around—so to speak. To be honest, I’m pretty fucked up about it myself. Can’t think. Still hard to breath. And all I have to show for my work so far is you, which puts you right…about…here”, I said as I held up my flattened palm just below my nose. Who’d you lease this to? What’s their name? And is this the only place?”
The comment broke the statuesque pose of Mr. Ramsey who had been holding his mouth agape for the last two minutes while I rambled, and he snapped-to like a man coming out of a trance on a hypnotist’s stage. “Yes! “ he exclaimed, shaking unseen cobwebs from his face as he did so. “Cowart Street, near the stockyards! A whole house! I have the address here..in the car…”
I took it and handed him over to a co-worker. He wasn’t done. None of us were, including the flies who had just started a shift of their own. God, I hope it wasn’t going to be too hot out here today.
I left, and called for a Uniform in another district to meet me near the new house on Cowart, but none were available at the moment. Fucking city…too many barking dogs, not enough tax base.
I waited a few minutes, and opted for a ‘preliminary’ drive by like we were taught on all raids; that’s when I saw him, and stopped to get out. ‘What the fuck’, I thought. It was already weird as it was. How much worse could it get?
posted by Longshot! [Sane] at 2:22 PM
2 Comments:
Ah. Satisfactory.
Slumlords...let me tell you about slumlords. On the other hand, you know as much as I do on that subject, most likely.
"...the flies who had just started a shift of their own." Yes. Flies are on the job. Always work for them to do.
Thank you, Young Man.
please please please write more! more! must have more!
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