Sep. 14, 2017
“Hello! Can you spare five minutes to talk about our Lord and Sav…” Joe slammed the door in their faces.
“Fucking idiots!” It was just two men in their early twenties in pressed suits trying to promote their lies so they could feel accomplished. He loathed them, was disgusted by them, but could they be his ticket out? His heart raced as he pulled the door open again.
“Hey! I have five minutes, c’mon!” He called down the hall just before they could knock on the next door. The two men returned with huge smiles on their face.
“Come on in!” Joe smiled at them as best he could, given the situation. “Have a seat,” Joe said as he motioned towards the couch that doubled as his bed, “I just have to grab something.” He bolted to his desk and started moving papers around, looking for the hammer he had used a couple weeks back for his first kill. It only seemed fitting. The next few moments were all a blur as his panic finally took over. His fingers wrapped around the hammer, he took mental stock of the men’s placement on his couch, then he turned and with the first swing of his body slammed the hammer into the temple of the closest man, killing him instantly. Blood spurted out of his temple and hit his friend, who pulled back in fear but barely had time to utter a sound before the hammer collapsed his skull from above, and his body crumpled to the floor. Joe quickly grabbed a blanket from the couch and mopped up the blood on the first victim before it could reach his suit, wrapping the mans head in it to slow the spread for now. As he quickly undressed the man his heart began to finally slow and his vision became clear again. It wasn’t until he had the man’s entire suit and pants in his hands before he stepped back to admire his handy work. He smiled to himself, delighted with his idea and quickly dressed in the man’s clothes. As he pulled on the shiny black shoes the man had been wearing he scanned the room for the man’s bible, as well as the stack of pamphlets he was to hand out. He found them both sitting on the couch next to where the man had sat before he was bludgeoned to the floor.
The door clicked behind him and Joe ruffled his hair, trying to pull his bangs over his face, though they barely reached his eyebrows. He hadn’t shaved in several days, and with his hair different from the news he hoped that he would be difficult enough to recognize for a little while. With as much confidence as he could muster he strolled to the elevator, softly patting his breast pocket where his newly filled flask rested. He had a pocket knife stored safely in his pocket, his hammer, recently bleached, at the bottom of the sack of pamphlets, and his gun tucked neatly into the back of his pants.
A smile crept across Joe’s face as the elevator doors shut and he punched the button for the lobby. “Here we go…”