Hardware: Difference between revisions
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I apologize in advance if this is deranged and/or disturbing for you to
And so I continue: this fucking guilt. It is sadistically watching me suffer as it possesses my spinal cord and its nerves to write this work of deranged and/or—
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Harry's Hardware
That is (perhaps was) my stepfather's proprietorship—a small and independently owned business that sells (perhaps sold) hardware for your standard home improvement. His name was Harrison Jones, and he
I don't know who the hell got my mother pregnant with me, but he sure as hell isn't my father. I don't know what happened to him and I've made no effort to find out, but his absence was eventually replaced by Harrison Jones.
I could see
Now I will refuse to call my own mother a stupid bitch, but I will definitely imply it—you see,
Harry's Hardware had remained relatively successful since its grand opening a few years ago back in '97, and I eventually became employed within the business. It was not my choice, desire, or decision, but I was in absolutely no situation to decline the request.
And so I
And one night, after the store had closed for the day, You missed a spot! Oh, goddammit son! (I am not your fucking son) Right there, clean that shit up, and he used his hand to point a flexed finger with a yellowed fingernail. And then he used that same hand
If you ever see me smile (which will probably never happen again), you will notice a vast gap located within the left of my mouth. I watched my teeth evacuate from my gums with so much perception that I could count
My jaw had been severely strained upon its hinges and my mouth had quickly become a container for a mouthful of blood—I spat the blood onto the floor of which my teeth had resided upon and created a derogatory stain upon my stepfather's shop. So he hit me again.
My head was struck with the same hand that had equipped his wedding ring and my neck was whipped in its opposing direction. I collapsed upon the floor with my ears ringing and my vision
But I didn't care that he hit me; hell, I didn't care that he hit me twice. But I sure as hell care that he hit my mother.
It's been one helluva
I eventually discovered that my stepfather had fallen asleep as he sat slouched upon his chair with an immensely overpowering drowsiness. I stepped inside his office and glared at the sleeping Harrison Jones, thinking about how he
I noticed that his wallet had fallen from his back pocket. It rested in idle existence upon the floor, and I carefully and cautiously retrieved it, and then I opened it. The only aspect of my interest was for the wallet-sized photograph encased within a transparent plastic and concealed beneath a buttoned flap of leather. The photograph was of my stepfather
I briefly rummaged through the hardware store and obtained a coil of rope. Then I anxiously returned to my stepfather and refused myself to experience hesitation as I wrapped the roping around my sleeping stepfather; I knotted and tightened it with enough constriction that it may have been capable of eliminating his circulation. And then I relocated his desk against a wall and delicately shifted his chair towards the center of his office. The final result was of my sleeping stepfather being bound to his chair within the core of the spacious chamber.
I wielded some garden shears and smirked at my stepfather as I approached him with the horrifically oversized pair of
I clamped the garden shears together and they uttered a satisfying chop as the blades collided with the bone of my stepfather's finger. The finger fell to the floor and produced an echoing clang of divorce as the wedding ring contacted the surface. The blood had immediately coated the bone's whiteness that had emerged from his hand and continued to spurt from the severed veins of where his finger had fled. And simultaneously, my stepfather had opened his bloodshot eyes with agonizing terror of excruciation.
My stepfather screamed at me every goddamned
I watched my stepfather as he struggled against the roping, shouting things like What the fuck is wrong with you you fucking sonofabitch I'm gonna fucking kill you! but I only browsed through additional merchandise within Harry's Hardware. I returned to my stepfather with a weed whacker.
I powered up the electric string trimmer and drained the sounds of his pathetic
But to hell with the gardening supplies—I returned to my stepfather with a fucking power saw.
Regardless of my part-time job here at Harry's Hardware, I don't know much about power tools, but I do know how to insert an electrical plug into an outlet and flick the switch. It was a power saw with a ravaging rotation of a single circular blade that possessed a threatening perimeter of sharpened
The cord was strained as its extension continued to consume the current of electricity that powered the circular
The incredible speed of the blade gave it the pleasant appearance of a stationary disk with a perfectly smooth
But then I gradually increased the inclination until contact was made between the circular saw and his
The circular saw remained in operation as the rapidly rotating blade eliminated the upper row of my stepfather's teeth and began to carve its signature groove of indescribable pain into the roof of his
Harrison Jones remained constrained and constricted as nearly seventy-five percent of his face had been obliterated into a bloody
The nail gun was a piece of hardware of which was cordless, pneumatic, and fully loaded with a magazine containing two-inch rods of pointed steel. I held it a mere millimeter from my stepfather's remaining
A compressed blast of air propelled a nail into his eye socket, its speed appeared to be that of a bullet with equivalent effects. The final implement of my stepfather's vision imploded into the back of his skull as the nail exited through an exploding exit wound. I heard the clatter of bone and splashes of blood echo within the horrific chamber of which had once been the office of Harrison Jones.
His head snapped backwards and allowed the loose peelings of flesh to dangle from his
And now I don't know what to
{{by|Shane Chowdhury}}
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