"I think spiderman is the perfect superhero like he is the epitome of what it means to be a hero and also a human. What I really love about him is the fact that he is the most relatable superhero in all of comics, because who on earth can relate to being a millionaire with a mechanical suit or an alien from another world. Spiderman goes through financial struggles, moral issues and practically everything that lifes deals with him. He has such great character development."
The store employee that I stopped at the Pelkin store stared at me like I was crazy person who did not know what he was talking about. "Sir, as much as I love comic books and am currently wearing a spiderman shirt I need to get back to work, the comic book section is in aisle 13 in the books section." The employee who so kindly listened to me for 5 minutes walked of. If I had to take a guess I would think this is what he was thinking. "What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Is he retarded or something?"
I stared at the trolley that was filled with zip ties, duct tape, plastic sheets, fruits, paracetamols, crisps, water bottles, UV light and several kitchen knives. There were many other stuff in their along with the stuff that I was going to use for my pleasure.
When I say pleasure I meant murdering someone. I know it is stupid to kill 1 day after being let out of prison but I wasn't going to kill anyone.
At least not today, because today I was only shopping. The murder would happen some time later maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after tommorow but sooner or later it would still happen. I put a 10kg bag of fertiliser in my cart. I then went to the comics section and bought several comic books.
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I strolled out of the store licking an ice cream. Damn, Arizona was really hot.
I pushed my cart forward and wondered what to do. I didn't have a car. Well it looks like I'm taking a cab.
I used a phone booth to call for a taxi and after waiting for 20 minutes a taxi came. It picked me up and took me home. I ordered the man to wait for me as I put all the stuff in my room. I then came back down and told the man to take me to a car junkyard.
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"So what kind of car you want?" a man asked me. The man was what you would expect a person who has lived in a junkyard to look like. Dry parched skin, white beard southerner accent and a balding head. He wore a mechanic's attire and held a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other.
"I'm looking for a car with a big trunk that can carry a lot of groceries. I also do not mind a seven seater." I replied to him. Of course groceries was just the chopped up dead bodies in duffel bags that I was going to put in the trunk.
"Oh... you got family?"
"Yeah, 3 children and a wife, fourth on the way."
"Good for you young man, good for you, but I'm just wondering why you are buying a car at a junkyard."
"That is a really good question," I said. It was a good question but it was also none of your business, do you question all your customers like you are part of the FBI.
"Well, we are going through a rough time but we also desperatly need a car, you know." The man nodded his head as he listened to my story. "You know I got to take them to and from school, their extracurricular activities, the shopping, work among other stuff you must know how it is."
"Yes I understand, anyways..." The fuck was wrong with this guy, he asked me some questions but he doesn't give a shit about the answers I give him. At least respect the lies I tell you by acknowledging them. "What do you think of this beauty right here?"the man asked as he patted a black four wheel range rover.
"This is a 2006 model with 94,000 miles on it. Isn't she a beauty?"
"She, I don't want a woman." I said.
The man stared at me weirdly before smiling. "Let me guess you want something powerful and masculine, I got just the thing for you follow me." What the fuck was he talking about? This seemed like a nice car but I followed him anyways to see where he was taking me.
"Take your pick from these cars." I breathed in the air as I gulped.
"These are mustang's. What are mustang's doing here in a junkyard?" I asked the man. Had it been one or two then I would not be questioning but there was over 50 mustang's. Mustang's of every make and color where there.
I browsed the cars not even listening to the man explain where he got these cars from.
When I was in prison I had learnt a lot about cars. I had even worked in the garage for quite a while.
Mustang's in my opinion are the best kind of cars to drive. Yes, it was exactly like the man said, powerful and masculine. I wanted these but I knew even though they were in a junkyard they would still be expensive.
I stood in front of white mustang gt before my eyes caught a car that was hiding in the very corner with no cars next to it for about a metre or 2.
I pointed at it before speaking to it. "That's a nice car, you mind if I see it?" The mans expression darkened when he looked at the car. "I would not suggest even getting close to that car let alone buying it."
"Why?"
"That car is haunted,"
"...." Just what on earth was this grown man talking about? Did he do a line of coke before I came in here and it was starting to kick in?
"The original owner was some guy named 2pac-"
"THIS CAR BELONGED TO 2PAC?"
"Well it belonged to 2pac but not the 2pac just some guy who liked 2pac to much and he called himself 2pac. Listen to me, 24 hours later of selling this car he was hit by a truck."
"Damn."
"Then the next owner was a gangster, he was smoking some weed inside the car when opposition pulled up on them and killed all four of them while they were in their seats. Those gangsters then tried setting this car on fire but then it started raining and they got killed by dogs who mauled at them, there are 3 more people who tried getting rid of the car but something bad happens anytime they tried touching. Even Gary the tow truck driver, when he was bringing the car here, he almost got hit several times by drunk drivers and finally his tow truck broke down in the middle of the highway, do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand but I still want it."
"It seems like you want to die so I'll give you 500 for it."
"500, that's pretty cheap for a mustang."
The man looked down at his clipboard and ticked some stuff of it before looking back at me. "Did you not want a seven seater?"
"No, I changed my mind." Of course I had to. You could not expect me to not take this beautiful car for just 500 dollars.