THE CHIHUAHUA CUTTHROAT

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'Cinderella's Shoe' Blogfest.
Don't worry guys this isn't a girlie thing.
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Below is my 140-words-too-long ‘Cinderella’s Shoe’ Blogfest entry.
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[*My thanks to DiscConnected for the inspiration.]

THE CHIHUAHUA CUTTHROAT

Both blood and screams emanated from the lump of human flesh curled up at my feet. The girl’s blood splashed across my face and her screams splashed into my ears and out again as I continued to hammer her with the same dead, stiff Chihuahua I had recently used to kill sixteen other tattooed teenagers.

Fear had gripped the city as the citizens came to realize that an unknown mass murderer was in their midst and their pierced and punky kids were no longer safe. The newspaper headlines screamed, as did these tattooed teenagers I was beating into pulp with this dead dog that I had found in an alley behind a Taco Bell. But my victims screamed, “Stop! Please don’t! Oh, someone save me!” while the headlines screamed, “Teen Boy Found Dead In Bowling Alley Restroom; Blood And Dog Hair Everywhere” and “Killer Strikes Again: Kid’s Korpse Sent To Koroner”. Well, this is the mean streets of Sheboygan where even the newspaper reporters can’t spell. But I was up to seventeen minutes of fame and counting, and that was the important thing.

On the five o’clock news they referred to me as “The Chihuahua Cutthroat” and my infamy was already benefiting the community. The Sheboygan Mall was now teenager-free and it was rare to find young punks loitering in front of the liquor stores and 7-Elevens asking adults to buy beer for them. In fact, most of these punks were now spending ALL of their time – instead of only two-thirds of their time - in their locked bedrooms playing video games. And with the pimpled people afraid to venture out of their homes, the tattoo and piercing parlors were shutting down. The way I saw it, Sheboygan owed me a big thank you.

Only I had finally miscalculated. When I jumped my seventeenth victim, this chick with seventeen holes in her face and seventy percent of her body swimming in ink, I had failed to realize that we were right in front of a donut shop. Before this Vampira-looking chick had ceased her screaming, the cops had emptied out of the donut shop and we were all scuffling in a heap on the sidewalk.

During the melee, I received a blow to the head which jarred my mind loose. I scrambled for it as it rolled away from me but before I could reach out, grab it, and reinsert it, a cop managed to yank my arms back and cuff my wrists together. I could only watch helplessly as my mind rolled up to a bag-lady sleeping on the sidewalk and bumped up against the side of her grimy face. She awoke, saw my mind lying there and, thinking it was a "chaw" of chewing tobacco, put it in her mouth. Then a smile crossed her lips. She staggered to her feet, picked up the kitten that had been sleeping beside her, and she tottered away as the coppers shoved me into the back of a police car. I had lost my mind, but I was satisfied that it had gone to a worthy home.

The court appointed me a public defender who entered a plea of insanity on my mindless behalf, and because it was determined that I was not mentally sound enough to stand trial, the District Attorney dropped the idea of seeing me sent to death row and later executed. Instead, I wound up living here at The Sheboygan Funny Farm, where I practice my basket-weaving and between therapy and lectures, me and Liz clean up the yard. Of course, in the mornings I have my cup of coffee and read the newspaper, keeping up to date on this story about someone they call “The Sheboygan Catwoman” who is using a dead, stiff cat to rid the city’s mean streets of its tattooed, pierced and pimpled people.

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.
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