Flash Fiction: Inner Savage

This is it! I’ve tied him to the chair, he’s defenseless. Finally I can ease my mind in having to suffer his nauseating fake-optimistic attitude.  No more do I have to sit idle and watch him become a spotlight using his gold coated tongue.

He’s trembling. Look at him plea; how can people worship this man? His throat, the spout of his pseudo-appeasing drivel, feels delicate in my grasp. This is power. I could pass his life over the ferryman in an instant. I just need to squeeze! Yes… Squirm. No…No. I can’t kill him yet.

What his face needs… 42 inches of aluminum. I was the nice guy before him. People flocked to me to console them of their grievances. That was ME! I was the nice guy! God, this bat feels remarkable striking against your face. I was the nice guy! Smash You took it from me! Squash But you can’t take anything from me now.

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