a human. for now.
I did my best to notice
When the call came down the line
Up to the platform of surrender
I was brought but I was kind
Killer 1 woke up on top of an elevator. He heard a female call out from the bottom of the shaft, “Are there any male humans up there in the elevator shaft?” Killer 1 removed the thumb from his mouth and replied, “Yes. There’s one male human up here in the elevator shaft.” The female whispered from the bottom of the shaft, “What are you wearing?”
And sometimes I get nervous
When I see an open door
Close your eyes, clear your heart
Cut the cord
Killer 1 can’t sleep with the closet open. He got high off of some wood glue he found in his crawl space and ended up calling a girl he went to technical school with. They repaired a muffler together once. She explained how she no longer does muffler repair ever since she lost her hand trying to unclog a toilet. Now she does DDP yoga. They argued over Lotus position for 25 minutes before his nose started bleeding. He hung up the phone and glued is nose shut.
Are we human or are we dancer?
My sign is vital, my hands are cold
And I’m on my knees looking for the answer
Are we human or are we dancer?
There was an old abandoned dance studio Killer 1 lived in after dropping out of technical school. It was here where he harvested organs for a local youth group that wielded extraordinary power. He would bring humans to the brink of death and then fall asleep. After waking up he would realize he forgot to bring them back from the brink of death. Whoops, he would think to himself. Most nights ended with Killer 1 crawling around the floor seeing if he could find any souls that may have dropped on the ground. The muscles in the bodies would start to twitch causing arms and legs to suddenly flop around as if they were attempting to dance.
Pay my respects to grace and virtue
Send my condolences to good
Hear my regards to soul and romance
They always did the best they could
Killer 1 got roughed up by one of the tweens with too many freckles from the youth group. The Tween said, “Jesus must break you now.” He beat Killer 1 with brass knuckles and prayed. Then he beat him some more with different brass knuckles and prayed. At the end they held hands. Not each others, but some from the dead bodies that were piling up. The Tween moonwalked out of the studio and told Killer 1, “Tell your wife I’m doing her later.”
And so long to devotion
You taught me everything I know
Wave goodbye, wish me well
You’ve gotta let me go
Killer 1 had spent all of his free time harvesting organs and neglected even searching for a wife. What the Tween said shook him to his core, and made him realize he’s been wasting his life away in this monotonous routine of killing, harvesting, killing, harvesting. It was like he didn’t know what he enjoyed anymore. Where was the passion in his life? That night Killer 1 had a long conversation with the Tween over several glasses of Ovaltine and they came to this conclusion: it was time for the Tween to let Killer 1 go and stop trying to do his future wife.
Will your system be alright
When you dream of home tonight
There is no message we’re receiving
Let me know, is your heart still beating?
The dance studio is no longer a home for Killer 1. Instead he nestled into the cozy confines of a deadly elevator shaft. He pulled a bag of thumbs out of his pocket he was keeping hidden from the Tween. He sucked on them as a child would suck on a bag of severed thumbs. He looked up into the void of the elevator shaft wondering if the corpse that the thumbs belonged to ever reanimated in his absence. He shrugged his shoulders and said to himself, “This feels right.”