Do Unto Others

"Fuck 'em! Fuck 'em all!" 

Jim Peel sat in the burger bar almost shaking with the frustrations and rage that had built up over the years. 

"Sick of everything! Sick of everything!" 

He was a loner, never really had the ability to relate or empathize with others and had never really tried. 

"People are shit!" was a phrase he used often. 

He was married, considering his deep aversion to female company and their alien thought patterns that was a miracle. 

He didn't love his wife, he didn't even like her. They married because she fell pregnant; he didn't even remember that coupling he was so drunk, it was one of the few times in that loveless marriage there had been any physical intimacy, he didn't miss it. 

He had walked out on his job yesterday, tired of being underpaid and having to answer to people he despised and considered his inferior. 

Twenty years he had worked there and had to suffer the indignation of watching younger people rising above him in wages and in the hierarchy, he thought they were ungrateful bastards. 

After a raging argument with his boss over wages, he had walked out, never to return. 

His boss had threatened to call the police after Jim had threatened to kill him. It wasn't an empty threat not with the dark thoughts that now filled Jim's mind. 

He looked at the faces around him in the bar, all the faces looked ugly; sour, full of spite, full of contempt but not as much as the contempt he felt for them. 

He slipped his hand inside his jacket and felt the knife that rested there, his new friend; cold, hard and sharp, the only friend he could trust. 

He and his friend had decided it was time for fun, sharp and bloody fun. 

Across from him sat a young woman, slim, pretty with soft blue eyes. He didn't see this, he saw a smug, superior bitch, smirking at her own beauty, knowing someone like him could never stand a chance with her. 

"Take a chance with my knife slag!" he thought, "I'll cut you, I'll carve you, I'll kill you but I'll take my time!" 

He stroked the handle of the blade then got up and left the burger bar. 

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He began to walk the streets randomly, walking past a school he saw the children playing there, running around, shouting and doing what children do. 

"Selfish, self obsessed beasts," he thought, "craving attention and love but giving nothing in return, the monsters!" 

He walked past a bar, hanging round outside were a group of young men dressed in the fashion of the day; baseball caps, trainers and low hung jeans. 

"Tough guys!" he smirked to himself, "Tough when they're drunk and outnumber you but soft little pussies on their own. I'll cut you, I'll carve you, I'll kill you but I'll take my time." 

But not now, the moment wasn't right. 

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He walked amongst the crowds, why did they smell so bad? Every person seemed to have a stench about them like rotting meat; their eyes seemed dark, empty, dead; victims, waiting for the slaughter. 

He passed a policeman standing there with such authority, such arrogance. Their eyes met, to Jim there seemed little behind those grey eyes, apart from a smug, 'I'm untouchable' superiority. 

"Superior eh?" he thought to himself, "I'll cut you, I'll carve you, I'll kill you but I'll take my time!" but this was not to be the one. 

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The evening drew on, the skies darkened and the street lights screamed fake daylight. At night things changed, things which seemed benevolent in daylight took on a sinister aspect; night was when the dark and the dangerous walked the streets, owned the streets; the drunks and the thugs and the junkies and the thieves and the rapists and the killers and Jim. 

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Settling into an expensive wine bar he looked around him at the people; the wealthy, the trendy, the beautiful, the degenerate; the victims. 

"You are the one!" 

His eyes fell upon a man; tall, slim, well dressed. He looked to be in his late 30's, handsome in a metro-sexual sort of way; he could almost smell the skin moisturiser and expensive hair gel from there. 

Polite, charming, good company, the ladies seem to love him; this bastard must die! 

Jim watched as he smiled and exchanged such witty banter with the people about him, he looked at the expensive suit and that silk tie that probably cost more than all the clothes James was wearing put together. 

The discreet, distinguished grey at his temple, those white, even teeth and smiling blue eyes; he hated his guts. 

He was the one, the perfect one. 

"I'll cut you, I'll carve you, I'll kill you but I'll take my time" 

The man got up to leave, Jim followed; a deed was to be done. 

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On the street just 10 feet behind, the man didn't even seem aware of his presence. Even here in the dangerous, neon night his easy charm flowed and glowed. Women smiled as they walked past him but sneered as they walked past Jim. 

He felt an elation, the world seemed brighter and louder, the very air itself seemed to tingle upon his skin, the time was now. 

The man turned to walk down a narrow alley, James was close now, he could smell the expensive after shave, it made him feel sick but he felt the knife heavy in his jacket pocket, a reassuring weight. 

The man stopped to check his watch, the perfect moment! 

Jim unbuttoned his jacket, ready to grab the blade, there was just a few feet between them. 

"Excuse me." said Jim. 

The man turned, his bright, blue eyes looking directly into his own. He smiled showing those white, even teeth. 

A glint caught Jim's eye, he looked down, in his hand the man had a knife, bigger and longer and sharper than his own. 

The man smiled again, "You are the one." 

The knife hissed out stabbing deep into Jim's arm, slicing muscle, nerve and sinew. Jim tried to grab for his own blade but his fingers were numb and useless. 

The man smashed the butt of the knife handle hard onto Jim's nose, he fell to the floor stunned. 

The man knelt down and moved his lips close to Jim's ear; he spoke gently, 

"I'll cut you, I'll carve you, I'll kill you but I'll take my time!"