Monday, 5 September 2011

The Crime Of The Serial Killer

It is an evil-eyed serial killer
He abducts one of three
“By thy hockey mask and bloodstained cleaver
Why kidnappest thou me?

“The camp-site rings with shouts and laughter
My teenage friends all within
Whooping it up with bonfire, beer
Drugs and sex and sin.”

He scolds her with his evil tongue
“There was a victim,” said he
“A juicy morsel, ye well may guess
Sky high on Ecstasy.”

He ties her with a bungee cord
Gags her to make her still
Then sits down to talk and talk
Until he’s had his fill.

The girl lay unable to move
To groan or shut her ear
And so spoke on the serial killer
That modern buccaneer.

“The victim cute, slim as a flute
Blonde hair just like a mop
Limbs thin as sticks, and on her cheeks
Of freckles she had quite a crop.

“The victim threw a wicked screw
No virgin, then, was she –
So sealed her fate by all the Laws
Of B-Movie Industry.

“Tempting fate like all good-time girls’
Snorting cocaine by the spoon –“
The gagged girl tried screaming hard
For help against this goon.

Her teenage friends sit round the fire
Guzzling beer and smoking dope –
While she lies gagged with a dirty sock
And tied with bungee rope.

The gagged girl she tried to scream
Could scarce manage a moan
The serial killer talked on and on
While whittling on a bone.

“I caught her and took her home
Tied her with clothesline strong
To the chair before the TV
And made her watch King Kong.

“While Kong ran hard, through the town
With one hand slapped copters down
In the mirror I practised my frown
Slapped peanut butter on bread
‘Tis hungry work, this kind of quirk
I have inside my head.

“By the time the film was done
She slopped with sweat and fear
She’d come off her cocaine high
And peed out all that beer.

“I decided to teach her the
Difference between right and wrong
And since I am a music lover
I told her that in song.

“And my voice trilled in my basement
As hers whined in a keen
We must have made quite a duet
Sharp and wild, lean and mean.

“I sung of this, I sung of that
While I walked all around
While she moaned, blubbered, howled
Or made not a sound.

“With dental floss, a little moss
The aid of a Bunsen flame
I forced her to take part in
A harmless little game.

“I fed her bread with peanut butter
Some of my famous stew
Of rotting cheese and garlic sauce
Onions and jackfruit too.

“But she whined, and said it stank
My example she wouldn’t follow –
I realised my teachings had
Been wasted on a head all hollow.

“She whined by day, she whined by night
She drove me to despair
Till I dragged out by the roots
Clumps of my thinning hair.”

“Umph humph umph, serial killer
Your dirty sock’s gone bust
Of all the gags you could have used
This must have been the worst.”

“Shut your mouth, you captive wench
And listen to my rants
Or I’m going to gag you again
With my dirty underpants.

“Meanwhile up rose the Great Detective
From his hotel bed rose he
Stretched his limbs, brushed his teeth
And walked down to the sea.

“And he lolled there on the beach
Half-naked girls to ogle
Watched them jump and laugh and play
Till his mind began to boggle.

“Then came a call from the Police Chief
It was a tale of woe –
The air grew chiller, with talk of a killer
Who caused the blood to flow.
A freak insane, and the police brain
Helpless watched the blood just flow.

“Not scared nor bowed, ‘fore Death’s own shroud
The Great Detective kissed
Goodbye to the beach, made a farewell speech
Told the girls they would be missed.
‘Duty calls,’ said he, ‘it calls to me
You ladies will be missed.’

“Seeking a clue, he hunted through
The victims’ bedrooms three
And fluent cursed, a headache nursed
For no clue led to me.

“Down dropped the dead, the blood flowed down
The gutters red as red can be
And my prey quivered at the thought
Of their inevitable destiny.

“While the Great Detective hunted, I
Slept away the hot dry noon
And stalked the evening, dressed to kill
Baying at the moon.

“Day after day, and day after day
That victim whined at me
Whine nag whine, till in a while
I wished I could set her free.

“Bloodlust, bloodlust everywhere
My eyes began to blink
Bloodlust, bloodlust, everywhere
So many heads to shrink.

“Those dead lips did grin and mouth
Words obscene as could be!
Those slimy guts did bleed all red
All over my territory.

“All about, politicians stout
Fat with stolen food and wine
Declared that the lives of millions
Depended on ending mine.

“A little scream brought cops all running
It was such fun to see
Them gather and sweat, and look all wet
I scarce could hide my glee.

“The Great Detective too followed hard
Came crawling on my trail
With deerstalker, pipe, magnifying glass
He swore he would not fail.

“Meanwhile, hey! Each and every day
What whining I had to bear
In my basement, through my casement
Till I had no hair to tear.

“Each day I blustered, threatened, yelled
Sometimes had to strike a blow –
But weary day by weary day
My nerves were worn all low
When looking out I beheld
Someone hiding in the hedgerow.

“At first it seemed a deerstalker
Someone had left lying there
But then it moved; I saw below
A hank of greasy hair.

“It was of course the Great Detective
I knew from what I’d seen
He’d found and tracked me down
With his bloodhound sense so keen.

“I went out, I walked around
The house from the back
(Stopping a moment to watch a girl
Well, she had quite a rack.)

“I went up behind the Great Detective
Gently tapped him on the head
Imagine my surprise when the Great Detective
From sheer fright dropped dead.

“I dragged his corpse down the steps
The deerstalker followed free
Bobbing around in the air,
Like driftwood on the sea.

“Like one, a cheated lover
Who enters his girl’s house in dread
And having seen what is to see
Turns no more his head
For he knows she and a man
Lie joined upon her bed.”

“Let me go, serial killer!
Real bad I need the loo!
Besides I need to be away
A little while from you.”

“Calm down, you little fool
Tighten your sphincter a bit –
For I’m sure you’d rather tighten up
Than lose the use of it.

“Under the ‘stalker was a gibbering ghost
Of ghastly greenish hue
His bad breath, when he spoke
Made me want to spew.

“I fired up my trusty chainsaw
To cleave that ghost in twain
But he jumped on to pleasure himself
On the saw’s buzzing chain.

“Moan and groan, and nagging tone
From my victim all the while
Till the gorge rose in my mouth
All full of bitter bile.

“Sick and tired of ghost and maid
The chainsaw down I threw
Snatched up my knife, to take my life
Which felt like doggy-doo.

“Then I paused, for I had
An idea divine –
It cooled down my fevered brain
Like a draught of sparkling wine.

“I wed gibbering ghost to whining girl
With a pat upon his back
Cheered as with a joyous yowl
He pulled her through a crack.

“The crack was in the basement’s floor
Far underneath the town
With a sound like thunder, then –
The building fell right down.

“The building fell, and crashed and crumbled
Crushed everything down to earth
And I thought I heard the Great Detective’s
Ghost guffaw and howl with mirth.

“But I am a serial killer
A sequel is a must
However many times they put me down
I will not bite the dust.

“From the rubble, then, I rose
All eager for the kill rose I –
Strode out of the ruins, shrieking
My vengeance to the sky.

“A policeman there, who stopped to stare
Fell down in a swoon.
Another took to kicking out
And giggling like a loon.
‘It’s clear,' grinned he, 'full plain I see
The Devil loves to moon.'

“I strolled past them, and killed a few
Gawkers just for the fun
Chopped off their heads, and laughed aloud
Watching the others run.

“I go, now, from girl to girl
Force them to hear my speech
And ‘til it’s done, I stick to them
Much tighter than a leech.

“Now that you’ve heard my tale
In words of blood and steel
You’re bored to have heard it once?
Just think of how I feel.”

The serial killer then left the girl
Into the night went he
Looked once over his shoulder, and
Vanished behind a tree.

The girl freed herself and stumbled
Into the camp’s welcome light
Popped some pills, and soon felt better
Was higher than a kite.

The serial killer walks the night
Still seeking victims new –
I think you should be warned now
He’s coming right for you.

Copyright B Purkayastha 2011

[With no apologies whatsoever to Samuel Taylor Coleridge]

1 comment:

  1. Super creepy! As if I didn't have enough trouble sleeping. :P


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