Read Online Single White Psycopath Seeks Same by Jeff Strand - Free Book Online Page A

pretty sure the nails were rusty and would hurt going in.
    “What ‘bout him?” asked the junkie, nodding at Roger.
    “Mine’s at the motel, too. Right next to Andrew’s on the dresser. I was going to bring it but I thought, no, I’m going to be handcuffed, I won’t be able to reach it anyway.”
    “Then maybe we sell your blood,” said the first junkie, waving his switchblade.
    “Now you’re just being silly,” I said. “Nobody would buy my blood.”
    “I said, people are trying to sleep!” shouted the angry woman. “Don’t make me come over there and kick your asses!”
    “Let’s just kill ‘em!” whined the guy with the baseball bat. “Lemme break his head in!”
    The junkie with the switchblade nodded. The guy raised his baseball bat, and then lowered it in surprise. “Holy shit! It’s him!”
    “Who?” asked three different people at once, including me.
    “Him! That guy! You know those death movies? Those things? You know?”  He began slapping his palm against his forehead, trying to concentrate. We all watched him. A moment later, his eyes popped open. “Anthony Mayhem! That’s who you are!”
    “Andrew Mayhem, actually,” I corrected.
    “Yeah, yeah! Remember those messed-up dudes who were makin’ tapes of people gettin’ cut up an’ shit? He stopped ‘em! I saw all ‘bout that on TV! It was fuckin’ sweet !”  He began gesturing excitedly. “Dude, tell ‘em what you did with that skull!”
    “I’d love to,” I said, “but I really need to help my friend.”
    “Your friend’s cool, dude, he didn’t get stabbed that bad. C’mon, tell about the skull!”
    “Really, this isn’t a good time, but—”
    “Tell us,” said the guy with the nail board.

    “SO I WAS climbing up the ladder,” I said to the fifteen or so people seated in a circle around me. “Now, I didn’t know what I’d find in that attic, but I knew it couldn’t be anything good. I knew that this might just be the day that I died. Let me tell you, being confronted with your own mortality in that way, it really changes a man.” 
    I checked my watch for the forty-fifth time in the past forty-five minutes. “I know I’ve said this quite a few times already, but can I go now? I’ll come back to finish the story, I promise.”
    Thomas hadn’t returned, which was disturbing enough, but the kidnappers would be here any minute. At least I had my new friends to protect me.
    “Dude, quit interrupting yourself! I wanna know what happened!”
    “Okay, so, I was being confronted with my own mortality. Then I—”
    The door flew open and two men burst inside. “How’s it going, you bunch of degenerates?” shouted the first, a tall, athletically built man in blue jeans and a heavy brown leather jacket. His short black hair was slicked back, and he had perfect movie star looks and a thin mustache. “Don’t mind me, trolls. I’m just here to meet a friend.”
    His partner was a bit shorter, a bit more muscular, and a lot uglier. He was bald, wore a parka, and was carrying what looked unnervingly like a semi-automatic rifle. He looked a bit embarrassed by his associate’s behavior.
    “Who the hell do you think you are?” Nail Board demanded.
    “I’m the Magic Man. I’m whoever you want me to be,” the first man informed him. He looked around the room, and then held his nose. “Whoa! How many rotting corpses have you got stored in this place? Haven’t you heard of the tradition of burying your dead? Or does that not apply to druggies? That was uncalled for, wasn’t it? Please accept my apologies, trolls.”
    He continued surveying the room. I wanted to scoot away, but that would have drawn attention to myself. It didn’t matter, because a moment later his eyes met mine.
    “Ooooh, just the person I wanted to see. And Roger, too. And who might your captor be, hmmm?”
    Nobody spoke. The man peered at the people around us, and frowned. “Speak up, speak up, whoever you are. Insane minds want to