After coming to a weak orgasm in a crowded Shop n' Save bathroom, I let out a sigh, ripped off the right length of toilet paper (I had this shit down to a science) and wiped the cum from my hand, shaft and let's not forget that tiny drip that made it' way to the toilet seat.
There were still small clots/splotches of blood caked under my fingernails. Disgusting I know, if I lack anything it's self restraint but what's a boy to do after a fresh kill? Not masturbate? I don't think so, (and yes this was my first "real" kill a human. The most dangerous game if you will. I'd practiced on mice and dogs, burnt hookers with cigarettes but this was my... my Magnum Opus), because in my fucked up way of seeing the world, there's no better time to indulge then after... well you know.
After cleaning up, I looked myself over. Just to be sure. Hair, slicked back in corporate tradition. A carefully pressed tie to complement complete with a my knock-off Armani suit. Everything was fine accept for the god-damn pen mark on my pant leg... Jesus, how in the FUCK does something like that happen... oh well. I purchased some breath mints before going back to my car to get rid of the body and... that was it. Much like my my aforementioned orgasm it didn't really satisfy me but it was done and now the rest of my life had been set out before me. Like St. Paul going blind, I had found my true self (however un-gratifying something like that may be).
Ed Norton (just like the film actor), that was the name of my victim. I preserved his head mainly because I wanted a keepsake but it soon became more than that.
"You know Ed," I said as I cracked a beer...