Disclaimer: Entirely Fiction

Whoever peels this sticker from the tree is next. I am feeling festive this month, so I place Halloween stickers. A jack-o-lantern here, a black cat over there. I am excited for the possibilities. Will it be a young, 20-year-old college student, looking hot in her yoga pants? Go ahead and tease the men, but it will not be for long. Please do not let it be a businessman. Let it be his wife or mistress. I loathe killing men, but the damn sticker decides. I had to initiate the sticker game because I was getting too careless. The police had identified too many similarities of my victims. The sticker game saved me. It keeps it random. The sticker chooses the next victim. I hope it is a female. Most women cannot resist something that shines and sparkles, lucky me. There has to be something else that entices them to peel the sticker. A tiny note tucked under the sticker generates curiosity. I learned early on that a lone sticker only attracts children. I do not kill children. They are full of life and haven’t made any mistakes yet. I guess even I am bound by some standard of morals. I wait in anguish, watching the stickers. I watch them until I feel like I am lurking too much. There are too many damn cameras these days. Why would anyone need a camera pointed at a tree?

The tree sticker is not my only possibility at the moment. I also have a cute witch sticker placed in the female dressing room at the local Clothes & Jewels. I like to guarantee my option sometimes. The sticker that I currently stalk is the female one. It has been two days and not one woman has acknowledged it. The third one, a ghost, is on the fountain at city hall. The waiting is agonizing. I know a heavy rainfall is predicted for the next few days. The rain cannot ruin the one in the dressing room, the most important.

I used to choose my victims from two places: the college campus and the local coffee shop. Once I was certain of my choice, I did research. I learned everything that I could about each woman. It was fun. Everyone needs a hobby. Now I have to learn the details of their lives when they are already dead. I do not have time to research them before our time together because the sticker game takes more time to choose.

A beautiful blonde woman exits the dressing room. The cute witch sticker is smiling up at me from the back of her jeans. It may have been an accident. Maybe she did not even read the note. Either way, I cannot ignore the sticker’s choice. My wait is over and hers has just begun. I follow her, keeping a reasonable distance.

These two have always been too good to drink the store brand orange juice. Shunned due to its plain label, it was left in the back of the fridge, which allowed me to drink straight from the bottle. It literally tasted the same as the premium OJ and it was $1.76 cheaper. They are shunners because they have never had to go without, like I have. Unfortunately, I’m facing the coldest winter, the one where we collectively learn to go without, with them as my teammates. No longer comparing the price of many different options of food, but relentlessly hunting for any food. Fortunately, though, they will be my only competition when shit starts to get real. It’s only been three days so far since we were surprised by the blast that threatened humanity. The blast that killed many and left others, shunning them as if they were plain label OJ. We were lucky to survive, now we have to prove that we are worthy, go on world, shake us up and have a taste. Some of us are pulp free, while others leave slimy strings in your mouth.

It’s been three days of listening to them complain. Gratitude isn’t their strong suite. Both have already finished their tiny scraps that we were able to salvage. I still have a lot up my sleeve, a lot as defined by this new world, which is not enough as defined by the old world. I’m not prepared to share. Sure, if we happen upon a smorgasbord, I will quietly consume some of my rations, while adding to my stash, of course. The odds of a smorgasbord surfacing is slim to none, matching the odds of them drinking plain OJ.

On the fourth day, we hit the jackpot. I can almost hear the sound of a slot machine spitting out earnings, chink, chink, chink. A salad packaging plant stands before us, practically winking because the building is missing one side. We check for other scavengers and there are none. Once we enter, I hear a freezer hum to life, and for a moment, I think that I am dreaming. They rush to the freezer, of course, anxious to see the contents that were kept cold inside. I stay back, and begin to eat directly from the factory belt, the lettuce isn’t completely bad yet, but it’s far too wilted for them to eat. I know what it takes to survive, I only wish that I had a glass of OJ to wash down this rabbit’s meal.

Loaded bases,

Many faces,

I focus on one with hatred,

My bat is ready, a chance long awaited,

I step up to the plate, show me what you got,

Are you ready for this epic shot?

I’m going to cram this leather into your mouth like a ball gag,

Punishing you until you raise the white flag,

This war between us ends today,

Now, what does the cocky pitcher have to say?

Striiiiiikkkkkkke one,

Two more chances to get the job done,

You shine an evil grin,

It will not look the same with a broken chin,

Pitch two and my bat does the deed,

Crack!!!! The ball glides into your mouth fulfilling its creed,

The crowd cheers as the runners round the bases,

I cheer because you are going to need braces,

I make a pit stop on my way to the home plate,

To add insult to injury, I showcase my hate,

A few kicks to extend your pain,

A lesson learned to stay in your lane,

I warned you that I would seek revenge guaranteed,

I laugh as I bring it on home and you spit out your teeth,

Here’s to the last time that you will ever torment me.

“Yes, I invite you in.” “Please come in.” “You May enter.” It feels nice to have this sort of power, power over what used to be a mythical creature, but is now the latest trend. I never thought that vampires, werewolves, and the like would walk this Earth. If there ever was such a thing, I assumed that they would remain in the shadows. Us peasant humans have always been left in the dark concerning many experiments. And sometimes those experiments go awry allowing magical and mythical to become ordinary. The vampires hold the greatest power of course, eternal life. They hold the key to keep life on this planet; exterminating small amounts of life is a worthy price to pay. The bad people are the first to go, death row is now a feeding frenzy. The politicians chose to offer the criminals as a food source, but which crime is punishable enough to be fed on alive? Do we allow them the relief of being drained in one day or should we subject them to the slow torture over a few days? Who decides? The questions were not on the voting ballot this year. The good news is that politicians are slowly dwindling, it’s not a staged, organized attack like the one at the prison (vamp feeding times are 8am and 6pm), but a sneak attack. Us peasants do have enough power to unite with the mythical and extinguish a few dirty politicians quietly.

The vampires cannot hand out eternal life with abandon. As with any gift, the giver must decide who is worthy enough to be the receiver. Which peasants deserve to stay, and which must go? Who will be placed on the buffet tonight? Eenie meenie miney mo. This world has evolved with survival of the fittest, an eternal selection process, although a little harsher in this new mortal versus immortal world.

Tonight, I must impress the one I desire to call master. Please choose me; I am worthy of your sacred gift! I intend to roll out the red carpet without being a cringeworthy groveling peasant. My case for eternal life includes all of my strengths, no mention of weakness. The vamps prefer to build their team with strong players. I am relinquishing all of my power simply by saying, “yes, I invite you in.” I invite you into my home, into my body, into my soul. I cross my fingers behind my back as I open the door, “Welcome to my home, I invite you in.” I will be eternally grateful to receive the most precious gift tonight.

One last piece of cake, I savor the taste,

No worry that it will go straight to my waist,

Chocolate with peanut butter icing,

Damn this cake is so enticing,

If I had an extra fork, I might share,

One last bite, the last square.

One last drink of pop,

Fizzing until the last drop,

So sweet on my taste buds,

Delicious caffeine spiked suds,

One glass of whiskey carries me through the night,

It always hits the spot, an aged delight,

Light one up to smoke with it, the perfect pair,

It is my last and I am not willing to share,

These better decisions are long overdue,

I cannot applaud myself for this breakthrough,

I did make attempts at quitting a long time ago,

This is my last everything, including my last night on death row.

Waking up on an island as always been a dream of mine. I always imagined that I would either be alone or with a few close friends. I quickly realize that this is not the island of my dreams. I am not welcomed with alohas or a lei, I have awakened to angry scowls standing over me. The sun is blinding. My head is pounding. What the hell happened?

And then I see her, perched on a bar stool sucking down a drink, her gorgeous red hair blowing in the breeze. Ginger. I jump up and scare the crowd back. I have to see if it’s really her, maybe she is a mirage. My palms are sweaty. Hell, my whole body is sweaty, it feels as if it is 120 degrees here, maybe I died and landed in hell. I’m not sure where I am or how I got here, but I have to know if it’s her. As I begin walking toward her, she puts her shades from her head over her eyes. I must be a sight for sore eyes and she’s going to have sore thighs if I have the pleasure of her passion again. “Ginger?” I quietly ask.

I’m positive it’s her. I glance around for the Single Mingling Cruise Ship, it’s nowhere to be found. That ship has sailed, I think, what a bad dad joke. Ginger left the ship the morning after our night together. I stayed on the ship. So how am I on the very island that Ginger left the ship for days ago? Has it been days? My head is still groggy. “Shhh, we cannot act like we know each other. You already ran over here like my lost puppy.” She tells me to follow her into a private room. I follow her like the good puppy that I am.

“I’ve been held hostage on this island for a long time. The prettiest people on this island are the captives. The uglies on this island are trying to create a beautiful group of people. They are studying breeding the pretty people. Every now and then, I sneak off of the island, but I cannot be gone long because they have chips inserted into us.” It’s a crazy story, and I’m selfishly thinking if I can get her in my bed again. The crazy ones normally do make the best lovers. It feels good to know that she wasn’t running AWAY from me; she was running BACK to her captures.

“How did I end up here?” I ask.

She shakes her head and shrugs, “I don’t know, but I’m going to say that it’s fate. Please help me escape these people.” I cannot help but think of Princess Peach. When we leave the privacy of the room, she whispers, “There’s the leader.” A large man with a dirty beard is eyeing us suspiciously.

I boldly walk up to the man and introduce myself, “Hello. They call me The Professor, and I’m going to take Ginger to the other side of the island.” I make this request with the hope that there is another side to this island. I haven't had any sightseeing oppotunties, needless to say. I hope these wackos do not cover the whole island.

He spits on the ground next to me, “You don’t suppose? You can leave my colony with her under one condition, you win a fight to the death with one of my workers.”

I agree. It’s my only chance. The uglies are probably going to kill me anyway.

“The fight begins in two hours,” he says as he storms away.

As I enter the ring to fight, I realize that I do not have a weapon or a shield. I have my trusty karate skills that haven’t been dusted off in years, and that’s it. Karate is like riding a bike, I hope. I’m fighting for my life and my love; I may not need a weapon or a shield. I image Ginger’s eyes from our one night of passion. Channeling my inner psycho, I let out a growl.

My competitor doesn’t look so tough when he enters the ring, and then he’s provided with a sword and a shield. This is not going to be a fair fight. The uglies chant and cheer us on, or I should say cheer him on. I see Ginger in the crowd, sitting with her hands folded in prayer.

He instantly charges me. He’s close enough that I can see his angry slobber trickling down. He doesn’t look human. I wonder if the uglies are also breeding warriors. I was able to dodge one swipe of his sword. I’m not so lucky with the second swipe, it slices a large gash in my thigh. My blood begins dripping like his angry drool.

Ok, karate, time to shine. He’s not ready for me. A few kicks to the face and he is dazed. I kick his sword from his hand, I hear the clang on the ground, even over the angry booing. A few more hits and he drops with a loud thud. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Karate makes me feel alive and I celebrate a little inside. I’m going to survive! I grab his sword. I see him in my peripheral, struggling to get up. I’m on him like a lion on raw meat. I stomp on his neck, holding him in place, and with both hands on the sword, I drive it deep into his heart. His blood begins showering the ring like an indoor sprinkler putting out a fire. I do a victory howl. I find Ginger again; she’s standing now with wide eyes. The crowd is pissed, I wonder how we are going to make it out of here alive.

Damn, my leg hurts. The adrenaline is dwindling down, allowing the pain in. I get to Ginger as fast as I can with a hobble. I link my arm in hers, she’s now holding this warrior up. “Come on, love, let’s get out of this hellhole.” She smiles, making it all worth it.

I will be the best worker that you have ever seen,

Torturing evil people has been my life’s dream,

I will use my skills that have been deemed as sick,

No longer hiding what makes me tick,

I will make the strongest residents cry,

Their pain will be amplified,

I will drink their tears,

As I invoke their fears,

Choose me to be second in command,

Together we will rule this fiery land,

You will praise me from your throne,

I am glad to finally be welcomed home.

I think of all of the hours that I have wasted in my life,

Hours spent doing things that are ignored, dying my hair, or giving advice,

Many hours spent killing brain cells,

Drinking the drink and telling tales,

Making lists of things that I will never do,

Gossiping about who is doing who,

A lot of hours tied to my phone or computer screen,

Instead of viewing the real world, so much beauty unseen,

So much time spent complaining about myself,

Instead of reading the books on my shelf,

Now each second ticking by is like the stab of a knife,

I’m spending my final hour alive reviewing the wasted hours of my life.