the refrigerator


The final chapter, in this gory tale.
I promise the reader, that
The ending will not fail,
And it won't be shat.

(This is, the opinion of the narrator.
But you decide yourself- I'm no dictator.)

Rod Flower Roy, will soon get His just
Comumpence, and soon, you,
Reader, so full of your deserved blood-lust,
Can end, your nervous nail-chew.

Back, in Rod's small town,
Matt's just revealed to be vampyric,
(What a buzz-kill, bring-down.)
Rod's mind has also become quite sick.

~

"I have become a child of the night,
A thirsty, bloodsucking fiend.
Shall we go fight, the good fight?
Come along, my good friend."

"Sure, what the fuck.
My serial is not yet reached four,
So you're in luck:
I'm in the mood for more gore."

Both hopped, walked and trotted,
As they headed into town.
And together, the two demons plotted,
Bringing a fourth victim down.

It was not a cold, or rainy eve,
As they marched, churchward bound,
To find, the previously-raped child (Eve),
And, in minutes, she was found.

She let out a long, terrible scream,
As she viewed Rod, after Matthew.
(Probaly blew open a seam-
She screamed till she turned blue.)

Rod pulled from His pocket, a gun,
And aimed it at Eve, due south.
"You know what? This is fun."
He told her, before He blew off her mouth.

He grabbed her small, dead form,
And they started to sprint.
"What is this, Matt? Not the average, norm."
"Which clue gave you the hint?

By the by, Rod, Where did you pick up a gun?"
Matthew, in speedy run, did ask.
"I stole it from an African-Canadian nun."
Returned Rod, from behind his cold mask.

~

Once again, inside His home,
Rod told Matthew, to stay at the porte.
"Stay over here, don't roam,
I have to clear me mum from my fort.

Stay here, with what's left of Eve,
I'll go fight me mum, kitchenbound.
Promise not to leave,
Later, I need you to be found.

Hey mummy, dearest, wassup?"
"We need to talk.
Sit down and shutup,
Before I give you a smack.

How many have you done off with, today?"
"Just the child, she was damaged goods.
I promise, Flowery May.
What's in the way of foods?"

"We have four, count'em, four,
Bodies in the refrigerator.
And, I can see from here, two at the door.
You're becoming a Terminator."

"Matt's not dead, he's turned vampyre.
And those three bodies are in the dirt.
I, Rod, am no liar,
Digging made deep sweat form in this shirt."

"Fuck her, kill her, masacre.
She may be, finally, your cure."

~

Matt, Rod, and May Flower all sat down to chat,
After May put on a flowery hat.

"You neglected to mention a demon, to us,
To either Matthew or May,
What started this massive fuss.
What caused your moral decay."

"I'm still certain it was God,
Who stole my soul,
Ruined myself, Rod,
Gave me such a big hole."

"Whattever the case, we've got
Three adults, each buried out back, in a sack,
Another, a raped child shot,
In through her mouth and out through her back."

"Speaking of the back, Rod, that's
Not a good place for them to hide.
Go outside, with darkness and bats,
And bring all of them back inside."

Matt was right, and that was that.
Rod went to the darkness outside,
While Matt and May sat,
Both taking shots, inside.

He digged up the three,
And brought them back in.
"All right, now let's see.
May I have some tonic with gin?"

"Where do we throw garbage bags, eh?
Not at the curb, no not there.
Where do they go?" asked May.
"The fridge's inner lair?"

"Tomorrow, I steal a car,
Off some citizen.
And drive them off, real far.
Then there will be zen,

For I shall give up, my evil ways.
Soul, or no soul, all will be fine,
I'll concentrate on scoring and lays.
I'll take back my life, it's mine."

From outside the house, boomed a voice.
"Rod Flower, Rod Roy, you're surrounded.
Come outside- you've got no choice."
"Jesus Christ!" Rod yelled, astounded,

For there were cops everywhere outside.
He was surrounded, and that was that.
"What do we do, huh?" he yelled inside.
"Damn piss motherfucking Christ shit!"

Matt and May, both looked,
Back and forth, then she said,
"Rod, looks like you're booked.
By the by, we're both dead."

"Very true, May, neither alive.
You killed us both, Rod."
To Rod, this did not jive.
"Both, stop acting a pair of dum sod!"

But Rod was all alone, with bodies two.
He was completely alone, with
The corpses of May Flower and buddy Matthew.
His mind tried to get around this myth.

"Come out with your hands up, unnarmed!"
Yelled a microphone, from the dark.
He still had a gun, He was still armed.
Should He make, yet another mark?

"Inside this house, I have two hostages!
So you'd mother-fucking pigs best stay put!"
Rod randomly flipped through a bible's pages,
Before tossing down, upon his foot.

A cell phone, from his pocket rung.
He answered, expecting a po-nine.
From the phone, evil literally sung.
Evil, in essence, was on the line.

"Rod mother-fucking Flower, hey.
You win, you get your soul back.
Everyone you knew, you did betray.
Now, how does that make you feel, jack?"

"What's going on, I did not kill
Matthew or May, but they both recently died."
"You're wrong, but you have a very strong will.
But hey, I'm on your side.

I'll explain it all, to you,
For you have many, too many a hole.
You are neither a Muslim, nor a Jew.
But soon, you shall have back your soul.

I broke apart your insides,
For, I've got no soul to tell.
I usually, speak none but lies,
From my throne, inside Hell.

You've lost count, of how many you've killed.
The total is seven, seven you've got down.
But you haven't a single grave, filled,
And you've attracted every cop in town.

First, remember Coppy, average Joe?
He was victim number four, man.
We've tampered with your memory, so
You forgot. Explains your gun.

Then you dug three holes, intent
On burying bodies. You failed,
For we've made your brain bent,
Nice and derailed.

Right before Matthew, said he was vampyre,
Was when you killed him, sire.

Victim five, boy was she shocked, by the gun,
But also by you carrying a dead Matthew.
Speak, if you can, my noble son.
I have just information-baraged you."

Rod peeked out the window, spotting
A multitude of armed enforcers,
All of them pacing and gun-totting.
Judge, jury and executioners.

Rod felt a complete sense of wordless,
Now aware of his latest pair of crime,
He felt completely breathless,
And felt that was running short on time.

"What the fuck, have I become?"
Asked Rod, as he poured a shot of rum.

"Hey, God, Devil, whattever you are,
This scenario has gone on way too far.

Give me back my soul, get rid of the authority.
Please, I, Rod Flower Roy, emplore thee."

"No such luck, Boy. Or should I say man?
A soul returned, is my only plan."

~

"Fuck her, kill her, masacre.
She may be, finally, your cure."

Rod, to the counter He ran,
And nimbly lifted up the frying pan.

"Rod? Why-"
Asked May..

Before she was clubbed upside the head.
To the ground, fell her body, dead.

He propped her up, in a chair,
Before depositing, a hat on top of her hair.

Dragged in Matt, propped him up too.
And completely forgot, that both, He had slew.

Matt, Rod, and May Flower all sat down to chat..

~

"You gonna fail on Matthew, like you failed with May?
Take him out, with you Rodas touch!"

A sharp bullet plunged into Matthew's chest.
As he died, Rod cleaned the gun, blessed.

"Goodbye, good friend.
I'll see you at the end."

With one final gasp, he was done.
Life, escaped, and he was gone.

"I have something to say, a confession."
Whispered to Rod, Matthew...

~

"Feel better, soul back in?
Do you now reflect, upon your sin?"

"Soul, great, now how do I escape here?"
"There's nothing to fear.

You have choices two, the latter I'd take:
Surrender to the coppers, Boy.
Or dead, yourself make.
It's up to you, Rod Roy."

And with a click, Rod was again alone.
And He let out a god-awful moan.

"To the courts, I could justify,
Making the child-rapist die.

But I could not justify Cloe.
No. No way, no.

Not Andy, either.
The cop, the raped-child, neither.

Why, oh why on earth, would I murder my friend?
Or do off me mum? To what, justifible end?

Shitty bloody angel of death,
All I've got left is my health.

And they don't even want me to have that.
This devil-pact seems really, truly, utterly shat."

He peeked, again, as He poured more gin and tonic,
Then gulped back the drink, greedily,
As He rolled up a three-pap of chronic,
He glimpsed outside, seedily.

"Of all my victims, seven,
I will avenge their pointless demise.
I shall make it even,
Before the next sunrise.

Perhaps, meddled not, should've I.
Changed, this world of man and beast.
For now all I is die.
What an unfortunate plote twist."

He hung up the chain,
And started His last smoke.
His heart, raw, did cause him pain,
At the Devil's sick joke.

And when the cops stormed His home,
When they burst in the front door,
Then wandered upwards, did they roam,
They found Rod Flower Roy, no more

Than a corpse. (Number eight.)
That first, unnatural walk, with the demon,
Had sealed his fate:
A Boy sold into the role of a man.

At the very end,
He didn't felt, so very empty.
He felt at peace, and
He knew, that soon, He'd be happy.


Do you want to head to the disclaimer?

[exit]