I write because I was chased by the type of monster that ravages and eats the body in order to release the soul.

Then it eats the soul.

This monster rankles and torments and bullies a person until there is no more will to live and then,  just before expiration, jibbers and chitters in malignant glee, having convinced others to stand there, listening and watching as the last, useless shuddering protests fell on deaf ears. 

Then it persists to step up to the funereal podium to blather and blow about the tragedy and the comedy of a life, never confessing and never exposing it's desire and actions to be the very cause of a death.

Later, at the repast, it is so occupied with sucking the last bit of attention out of those who come to pose as legitimate mourners, that it inadvertantly reveals its true nature through the slips of it's fat, dry, overworked tongue, much to the belated and worthless horror of those who stepped in to do nothing when they could have and should have.

And then it moves on to its next victim, angry because some of us plan, a long time before expiring, that the gloating monster will never get its nasty teeth anywhere near our souls. We follow it, enjoying our ability, finally free of pain, to move and flow right along with the creature.

Now why did a tour bus have to overturn on 1-75 outside Atlanta? Why is it lying on its side on a grassy median? What foul motivation caused the driver to move that contraption in such a way that the dynamics of making it roll over onto the side, injuring and trapping how many?

Horror of horrors, Brittany is back. She looks fabulous, but here pale, bland, blond ripoff of Beyonce is not impressve. She is not boodylicious.

And so the monster moves on to its next target, a middle aged businessman who spends his time crunching people's finances to look as if the reports and fine prints tell the truth, when all that they do is to lie with damn lies in the same way that dogs lie with dogs. 

The man doesn't know that the monster has entered his body and is chewing away at his lungs and liver while he ponders the next stage in his life of excess: the purchase of a bangin' house on the coast with sea views out of fifteen windows. 

We follow the monster's trail. Boy is this guys liver shot. His lungs are fine, though. We locate and attack the leavings of the monster. The acidic seeds that it plants so that it can come back later and feed on the crushed and broken cells are flourescent lime green. We grab them and send them to the colon, where they try desperately to take up residence, but we reach over and grab some ropy bits of gut and yank on them, sending the doubled over victim to the hospital.

He will live a new and different life after that colonoscopy.

Steaks! Raleys had two beautiful sirloins for about four bucks. Those, some mashed potatoes and a salad...after the swim, of course. This nice weather isn't going to last forever. 

Good grief, there were 6 bodies in a man's house. He had already served 16 years or so in prision for a previous rape.

And now the monster is sitting at a cafe, sipping an au lait and leering at the beautiful people.  It turns its fat, bloated head and sees me...

....to be continued