Background
Crime, murder, mystery - a who dunnit with all the tormented twists.
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"Fucking natural order of life!!! Order!! Order!! Everything in its place and everyone in theirs!! Raaaarrrr!!!" Each word was slammed into the corpse.
Meat, that's all that was left of what was once the head of a 14-year-old teenager. Bits of blood, brains and bone were splattered all over the room that made the blue tarp practically useless.
He was filled with rage, pure uncontrollable rage that flowed through his veins and to every nerve ending he had. He was panting, sweating, and trembling in anger. In his hand a 5-lb sledgehammer, covered in more of Buddy's bits. All around him on the floor were various very sharp knives and buckets filled with fluid. Some buckets were empty, some were filled with chunks of flesh.
His brain was firing like lightning, and he was fighting with the urge to swing some more and the urge to stop. His hair and face were covered in splatter and his clothes looked more like a mop up rag than something to wear.
The naked corpse lay below him, unrecognizable if not for what was left of the shape of the body. The hands bludgeoned as tools for self-gratification. No human should be allowed to exist that skirts the boundaries of the natural order. Destruction was the only cure. The boy's genitalia were the only things unscathed. They were cut so cleanly it was as if they were surgically removed and then placed into a bucket. All the while the boy screamed out to the room. Luckily, he bled to death before a sledgehammer connected with his mutilated skull.
He swings a few more times, making mincemeat from the rest of the remains and then collapses on the floor in the middle of all the mess. Slipping on the wet remains as he went down. It took a few minutes for him to catch his breath. Nothing about this one was pleasurable. This one was for mother nature. He felt a little like her ambassador, making sure that these creatures didn't exist to fuck up the planet.
After resting for a while his vision clears and the anger starts to dissipate to the corners of his consciousness. He was exhausted but he still knew there was a mess to clean up. He shakily gets to his feet, walks over to the table. He pulls out a disposable bed pad and puts it on the floor. Here he strips naked. He puts the remains of his sweat suit in a plastic shopping bag and ties it shut, tight. He reaches into the backpack and pulls out 2 pairs of disposable booties. One he puts on immediately and the other he holds in his hands.
Off to the shower for a quick rinse. Gotta get rid of this mess. When he returns with fresh booties on, he tracks his way over to the cupboard to get out his supplies.
After a few minutes, he is suited up and ready to get to cleaning up. Only now his brain registers that the dark twisted music playing wasn't the usual 'Oh Sandy' that he usually listened to. He silenced the noise and switched to Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1.
Now calm, he sees the carnage and the mess. Tsking to himself and thinking 'I gotta get control on my temper sometime soon. Well, the job needed doing, but perhaps with a little less vigor.'
First, he puts the bucket with Buddy's genitals outside. Then he starts with wrapping the body and as many bits as he can collect inside the tarp. Double bagging and duct-taping. Because of the mess he made this bundle didn't resemble any human or tree for that matter. More like a ball of squishy flesh in a bag. Out to the wheelbarrow and down to the well. Whistle while you work, it helps the time pass.
He returns to finish cleaning up the room. Taking care to make sure that the ceiling and walls were clear of all debris. He takes a lid and places tightly on the bucket outside and along with the blood-soaked bag with the track suit inside he places it in his vehicle.
Taking note of his supplies he recognizes that he will have to order more. Each time he orders from a different place, sometimes making the drive to different cities to get all that he needs. Occasionally pilfering from his work. Delivering to different sites, addresses and mailboxes. All under aliases and some in business names. Can't be too careful. Next trip is going to be quite far so he reasons that he will have to book another 'business trip' to get materials from places he's never been to. A successful venture requires hard work, planning, and diligence.
But for today, all this extra work was taking more time than usual. Excuses would have to be made about the delays to the ones waiting for him.
