A Funny Night Out

There he was, coming back to his shack from another adventure. “Would you like some tea Mr. Dacers?” he asked as he gazed upon the perishing corpse of a once man who believed that the world was his. “I hope I did not make you wait too long! I had some deliveries to make! Be right back in a minute!” he continued.

Not awaiting an answer that would never come, he danced his way to the bathroom, having fulfilled his daily quota of chaos. A few splashes of water coming from a rusted pipeline, some expired facewash that he couldn't care less about, a clean wash and a wipe with a towel that had not been washed for about three weeks. All these hygiene breaches and his face still looked pristine… or so he thought as he gazed upon the white sink. He wasn't sure if it was the face paint or if the sink was white from the start itself as he had not bothered to clean it either, blaming it on all the time he spent away from his home. He gazed into the stained mirror in which he could barely see his reflection. “Why do I still paint my face?” he thought for a second and then continued doing what he was doing. Even with the paint washed off, his skin remained white with minor lesions and scars, akin to the surface of the moon.

It had been this way since his fall into Hydroquinone-Mercury filled vat. Physical, mental, emotional… the compounds had gnawed away at everything that had made him a common man. A certain circus tune perpetually played in his head, enabling him to dance even when there was no music. All he thought about was the moment. All the things he did was just because he wanted to and because he could.

He had not believed in God before. He wasn't sure that he did now either. But he did use it as an excuse for his actions in case he grew tired of explaining to people that he did what he did because he wanted to. “I did it because the Lord told me to.”, he would say. Nobody would buy into it but at least they would understand it before perceiving it as rubbish. It was his favourite excuse because he loved chaos and because "God" is a topic over which chaos has ensued since time immemorial.

Hanging his attire and wearing a comfy prussian blue night-dress, he took a pot from the basin, placed it beneath the flowing tap for a minute and drained it, then retrieved a used teabag that was hanging from the handle of a cupboard above the stove. Pouring a glass of water into the pot, he turned on the stove and placed the pot onto it. The cylinder still had some gas left in it. Setting a timer of five minutes on his watch, he sat opposite to what was left of Mr. Dacers. He had regularly sprayed the corpse with a deodorant since the last three days that it sat on a wheelchair as well as had installed a room freshener. The bloating body did not bother him as much as Mr. Dacers did when he was alive.

King Deacuff Dacers was a filthy rich business man who portrayed himself as a humankind's angel, paying people to advertise his multiple charity organisations and business ventures that served as proselytization centres money laundering fronts for his godfathers. Once a sexual predator-cum-pedophile, now he was… wherever he could be according to his faith.

"It has been a busy day you know Mr. Dacers… Business has been booming. However, this maniac dressed like a bat goes around brutally beating up my honest, hard-working employees and causing trouble. But fortunately, it isn't enough to stop my work. Apparently, he has this NO-KILLING RUUUULE that he abides by and still uses a military grade vehicle with machine guns and rocket launchers, and has beat up some of my people so badly that they actually ended up permanently damaged, if not dead, from the trauma. I am a good boss though. I honourably discharged them and relieved them from their suffering by sending them straight to the big man above." He paused and gazed upon the corpse.

The deodorant hadn't stopped the flies and the maggots. It was a fun sight to him. It affirmed his belief that even after death, life still goes on, that the peace of death is short-lived and that the maggots feasting upon the body were the disrupters of peace, agents of chaos, just like him. They were densely populated near the corpse's crotch… which was lacking a couple of parts because he had snipped them. Mr. Dacer's ear-piercing screams was music to his ears and he thought it was a wonderful idea to link the keying a toy clapping to castrating a terrified abductee. He wasn't completely wrong though. Both actions set them off.

The timer went off. “Excuse me Mr. Dacers, I'll get us some coffee.”, he said as he went to fetch the coffee and cookies. Returning with them, he placed one cup on the floor and started sipping from his own. “Aah… Damn this coffee is good. I would have brought some for you, but I know you wouldn't take it from a filthy terrorist like me. Even in death, you are feeding so many hungry mouths! I salute you, sir!”, he said as he continued sipping his coffee. Enjoying the eternally playing music in his head, he hummed it in between his is sips and day-dreamed simultaneously.

Suddenly a thought crossed his mind. A thought that bothered him whenever he thought of it. “You know Mr. Dacers… It gets boring at times. I mean… Look at you. Multiple marriages, multiple damsels that you drugged and raped or coerced into pleasuring your dingling… You have always had somebody! Not me though. I always sport a smile… Mostly because I love my job and am happy but also because those chemicals permanently stiffened certain muscles of my body, but that does not mean that I am ALWAYS happy. I can't be. That's the duality of human nature. HuhuhahaHAHAHAHA! I know! It's hilarious! Calling myself human? Pfft. But still… I have realised something that most of these idiots haven't realised. Most of them want something unique, something that sets them apart from others, a super power! Some want to fly. Some want to get rich. Some want to get laid. They all resort to all sorts of stuff to gain this unique satisfaction and they always fail. Look at the Superman. He is almost a God. But he is happy and not because of his powers, not because he has got people who love and look up to him, but because he has friends, and even better, a partner. Although I am not sure if it's Wonder Woman or that reporter chic from Metropolis. I do hope it is that reporter chic though. It would be way funnier, easier and satisfying to have that invulnerable hunk murder his vulnerable damsel huhaHAHAHA… Oh I knooow. I am so evil.” He said as he finished his cup.

He then picked up the cup he had placed on the floor, began sipping, and continued, “Back to the point, I NEED SOMEONE! Like I have got wonderful friends who treat me like the Justice League treats Batman, a powerless muggle, but still keeps me on board for my influence and insanity. They are a fun lot but they would rather fade away from existence than date me! I wanna date too! Well, not exactly the way you dated but yeah! I can't even remember the last time I dated! HUH! DID I EVER DATE ANYONE? Dear Lord above!”. Swiftly switching his expressions back to normal, he finished his tea and got up. He threw the cups into the sink and took the wheelchair out of the shack. As the maggots fell off the body, some getting squashed under the wheels and his shoes, he said, “Now that I think of it, I was very good friends with this girl from elementary school. Not many people were as sweet to me as she was. Eventually, she was bullied for not ostracizing me like most people did and this one nasty boy, he troubled her a lot. Bullying is never good you know. So I befriended and encouraged one of that boy's worst victims to stand up to him. His name was Tony I think. I got a gun from Lil Pim and gave it to Tony on Thursday. Friday was Thanksgiving and Tony's birthday. Tony thanked that boy and his two lackeys by splattering their insides over the cafeteria floor and then off'ed himself as well. I almost shat my pants witnessing the whole thing huhuhuh… But it was satisfying. Many kids left the school after that. I wasn't done with the school. I asked Jolly John to get me some crack. The gym teacher was a literal pain in the ass. Kind of like you. He hit on my girl friend like how you did. So I stole the teacher's money to pay for the crack, snuck the crack into his locker and tipped off 5-0s. I hope he has dropped the soap more times than he made me do it. Back to the girl, it's about time I call her again I suppose…”

The shack was in a remote spot at the end of a dried up gorge which connected to the beach. Placing the wheelchair outside, he brought and placed his own chair besides the corpse. He doused the corpse in kerosene, lit a blunt and flicked the lighter at the body setting it ablaze. “I once had Jonathan smoke weed with me. Normally he’s the one gassing people and making them soil their undies but holy shit it was INSANE seeing him trip! Karma's a bitch I suppose because he was too terrified to smoke weed again. That Compton green was kicking the shit though.” He said. “Find Harleen Quinzel” he texted on his pager and then spent the night gazing upon the starry sky, smoking his blunt, enjoying the smell of hash and burning flesh, the sound of the sea and the blowing breeze.

-Aniket N. Prabhu
(P.S. Apologies if zoomer Joker made your braincells unalive themselves)
11/25/2019