We've all heard the stories of the maniac on the loose who has a razor sharp hook for a hand, but for the first time ever we are presenting his side of the gory story!
The Hook by Rob Fields
Music by Ray Mattis http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
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How many times have I been asked this question? How many times have I been asked, “Why, Farley? Why’d ya do it?” Police, reporters, headshrinkers, an even the guards here at Grafton Prison. They all ask me the same question. An every time, I give ’em the same answer. “Because I could.” Have ya figured it out yet? I’m a murderer. That’s right, a murderer. I been killin’ people since I got outta high school. It all started twenty years ago with my high school sweetheart. We were supposed to get married. Problem was she liked to keep naggin’ an naggin’ on. One day, she got drunk off her ass, came to my back door, an started pickin’ at me. I coulda just closed the door on her, but I decided I really didn’t hafta just take her shit. I was a man an she was just a panty-dropper. So I came outside an picked up the ax. Her head sure sailed quite a ways before it came to land at the back door. Ya know what? It felt mighty good! So I been targetin’ bitches for many years after that. One right after another . . . I had such a good time choppin’ an hackin’ ’em up. Bitches ain’t nothin’ but leeches. All they do is take an take an take from ya. Way I saw it, I was doin’ their fellas a tremendous favor. Of course, I wasn’t gonna get away with it forever. Ya probably knew that already, right? One day, I was killin’ this panty-dropper in her nice home. Next thing I know, her fella comes in. Turned out to be a pig. Instead of tryin’ to arrest me, he lost his head an came at me. The two of us had a big fight. Guess the pig fella really loved his bitch, because he eventually got hold of the ax I used to chop her up with . . . an he cut off my freakin’ hand as I was pushin’ myself off a dresser. That was the last thing I remembered before I woke up in jail, a few days after the incident. I now had a neatly-bandaged stump where my hand used to be, probably from when I was rushed to the hospital. A few weeks later, I’m in Grafton Prison. Yeah, there was no question of my guilt. Especially when I told the bitch judge I’d come for her once I get outta here. There are even a few bitches here as guards. Two of ’em work on my block. They can never help but just look at me. An every now an then, they still ask me, “Why, Farley, why did ya do it?” “Because I could!” I tell ’em again an again. So every day I just sit here in my cell. They don’t put nobody in here with me. Let’s just say I ended up killin’ my last two cellmates. Even with one hand, I can still get the job done. Teeth can work just as well as a hand when yer tearin’ their throats out. Especially when they get stupid an fall asleep. I just sit in my cell an workin’ out my escape plan. Then, after all these years, I get some rather interestin’ news. Turns out I’m gettin’ a hook to replace my lost hand. I end up bein’ taken to the infirmary where the people there will put it on my stump. Wouldn’t ya know it? There’s a doctor bitch here that’s gonna put the hook on. I’m secured tight an put to sleep as the bitch puts the hook on. When it’s all done, I get wheeled back to my cell. Problem here is that I now have a deadly weapon attached to my body an the sleep stuff wears off too soon. The guards don’t even expect me to just turn on ’em after they remove the straps to put me back in my cell. With my new hook, I can easily rip out their throats. I even go back to kill the doctor bitch who put the hook on. Had to give her my thanks an appreciation, right? Long story short, I end up escapin’ Grafton Prison an decide to make my way back to Strickfield to even the score with that bitch judge. I know, I know . . . Why, Farley, why do ya do it? Because I can! Because I will again! I end up takin’ an old pickup truck from the prison to Strickfield. It’s nice to actually have some air conditionin’ for once. It doesn’t last long, though. The pickup truck breaks down just a few miles from Strickfield. I hafta leave it an walk the rest of the way. At least now it’s dark outside. Pretty soon, I end up comin’ up to a car parked off to the side of the road, underneath a streetlight that’s there. I can hear some music playin’. I turn an look down the hill an see Strickfield. Yeah, I remember this place now. This is Strickfield Overlook. Fellas bring their bitches here to try an score some nookie. I killed many bitches up here. From a safe enough distance, I can hear the two of ’em talkin’. Definitely a boy an a girl. Sounds like they’re from that college on the other side of Strickfield. “I really can’t believe you let me take you out tonight, Raige,” the fella tells her. Yeah, definitely a wimpy mama’s boy type. “It’s quite all right,” the bitch tells him. “It’s good to get out sometimes. So thank you for getting me off campus for a little while.” An what kind of a name is Raige? Sounds like she’s always pissed off or somethin’. I’m guessin’ she’s a Plain Jane. “Listen, I hope you don’t mind that I brought you up here,” the fella says. “I’ve always admired the view from Strickfield from up here. I’m from here, you know.” “Nothing wrong with that, Franklin,” Raige tells him. “I’m from North Ridgeway, which is on the other side of the state.” The two of ’em talk about why they came to college an all that stupid shit. I can feel the anticipation mountin’ up. Ya just know I want that panty-dropper all to myself. But it’s been so long, I think I’ll kill the milksop too. Then Raige gets outta the car an looks up at the night sky. The milksop gets out, too. Yeah, he’s definitely a milksop. He’s one of ’em nerdy types: skinny, polo shirt, trousers, loafers, an glasses. Only he don’t have the tape around the middle of his glasses like some wimps I used to know around these parts. An who does this wimp think he is? That bitch looks way too good for someone like him. She looks like one of those girls ya see in the nudie mags that the inmates back at Grafton would pass around. Such an angelic face an a nice chassis. She’s even got some nice big milk jugs to go with that chassis. She should be with a real fella, not this milksop of a mama’s boy. Oh well . . . it’ll all be the same to me when I kill ’em both. This Franklin comes over to Raige, an the two of ’em start talkin’ again. “You okay, Raige?” he asks. Yeah, even he ain’t sure this girl would wanna drop her panties for him. Probably wonderin’ if he’s even gonna get any. She turns to face him. “I’m fine, Franklin. It was a little stuffy in the car. It’s much cooler out here. There’s even a breeze.” “Yeah, you’re right. We can roll up the windows an I can run the air conditioning,” he tells her. She makes herself smile. “But then we couldn’t see this nice view that you wanted me to see. And besides, it’s not like we can’t . . .” An then she actually steps up to the milksop and starts kissin’ him! Next thing ya know, the two of ’em are both swappin’ spit an wrappin’ their arms around one another. I’ll kill ’em, but first I wanna see if the milksop can get Milk Jugs nice an naked. Eventually, the two of ’em go to the front of the car. He lifts her up so that her perfect behind is on the hood. Then their kissin’ becomes more hot an heavy. I just don’t get it. Why would a nice-lookin’ bitch like that go for for a milksop like him? An then the romantic music is interrupted by a news bulletin. The two of ’em stop their kissin’ to listen to it. “This is a breaking news bulletin from the Strickfield University newsroom here at WSTR Radio. Convicted murder, Farley McFaine, has escaped from Grafton Prison. If you see him, do not approach him – under any circumstances. He is easy to identify by the hook he wears as his right hand, which was amputated in a skirmish with a police officer twenty years ago. If you see him, you should immediately inform your local authorities.” From there, the radio guy keeps rattlin’ on about how dangerous I am. That much he’s got right. Raige tells her milksop that perhaps they’d best head back into town. “You just never know, Franklin.” Franklin the Milksop isn’t so convinced. “But, Raige, why would McFaine climb all the way up here? That would be pointless.” Raige doesn’t hesitate an sounds deadly serious now. “You’d be surprised at what serial killers like McFaine are capable of, Franklin.” She takes his hand now. “Please. We can still continue our date. I’d rather we just head back into town.” “Okay, Raige, you win.” He helps her down off the hood. The two of ’em get back into his car. Now’s the time to strike! I move from the bushes to get to the car. As I reach it, I’m about to use my hook to pull open the passenger door an grab the bitch. “Oh shit!” I hear the milksop cry out. No doubt he heard me at his bitch’s door. Before I realize it, the milksop quickly stomps on the gas an the car speeds away. Suddenly, I’m in a lot of pain as the hook has been ripped clean away from me. Stupid! The milksop had the motor runnin’ all that time! My mind was too much on the bitch that I ain’t thinkin’ straight. I hafta get my shirt off – fast! It’s a little hard to do with only one hand, but I manage to get the shirt tied up enough to stop the bleedin’. Just then, another car stops close enough. A fella gets out an asks me if I’m okay. Then he recognizes me. “Oh, my god! You’re Farley McFaine! You’re the guy who escaped from – gaak!” His mistake was yappin’ when he shoulda been runnin’. He falls on the ground after I use my teeth to rip his throat out. Then I take his car an speed away to follow the couple who got my hook. It takes me a little bit, but I finally find ’em. They pull up to a hot dog place, one that still does it the old fashioned way – with those young bitches on wheels who come to yer window to take yer order, bring yer food. Then Raige decides to get outta the car. Maybe she decided to stretch her legs. Then she sees her door an quickly calls her milksop over. The wimp flips out when he sees my hook hanging on the passenger door handle – with some of my blood smeared all the way back to the bumper. Then one of those roller-bitches sees it an wheels inside, probably to call the police. I hafta get away. Now ya made it personal, Raige. I know ya go to the college here. I’ll find ya an wait for ya!
It takes long enough, but the bitch finally returns to her buildin’. I’m waitin’ for her in her bathroom. When she least expects it, I’ll come out an grab her an bite her goddamn throat out. Then I’ll work on gettin’ the bitch judge who sent me to prison twenty years ago. I wait an wait, but she never comes into the bathroom. You’d think she’d hafta come in to drop her panties an sit. She never even turns on her lights. Suddenly, a hand reaches inside the shower an grabs me. I’m yanked outta the shower. An then someone pops me right in the face. As I stagger, I get turned around. Then I feel arms wrappin’ around my head. Everythin’s goin’ dark as I’m bein’ taken to the floor. As soon as I’m on my ass, it ain’t long before everythin’ finally does go black . . .
When I wake up, I find I can’t move! I know I’m propped up on somethin’, with my arms and legs tied up with the plastic ties. Suddenly, the lights come on. I find myself lookin’ right at that Raige girl. “Hello, Farley McFaine,” she says all nice an calm. “I’m glad we could finally meet. Unfortunately for you, this will be your only meeting with me. It was one thing for you to break out of prison, but you should never have returned to Strickfield. But don’t worry, I won’t be returning you to Grafton Prison.” She gives me this look that . . . I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this . . . The bitch is actually scarin’ me now. “You belong to me now, Farley McFaine.” She’s even changed her clothes. She has a pair of jeans on an a long shirt. Over top of that, she’s wearin’ what looks like a shiny black apron. She turns an flips on some more lights. Now I know where I am. “This is my barn, ya big-titted bitch!” I yell. “Yes, it is,” she says. “Why don’t you look around some more? You might as well take in everything . . . since this barn will soon become your tomb.” There are pictures of me all over the place – all of ’em with me actually caught in the act of killin’ many bitches. The ones that surprise me the most are the ones that the security cameras at Grafton Prison caught of me killin’ the guards an the doctor as I escaped from there. “You have killed a great many women, Farley McFaine, all without a single amount of remorse,” she tells me. “Under normal circumstances, I should have the police come and take you away.” She shakes her head slowly. “But you would just return to Grafton Prison and still feel no remorse whatsoever. No, tonight, you will truly pay for your sins.” I laugh now. “Oh, yer gonna kill me? You? A bitch?” She’s still so damn calm when she speaks. “No, Farley McFaine . . . an angel! I am known as the Angel of Death. Like you, I am also a serial killer. But I learned to prey on people like you, the corrupt, who simply have no remorse for anything that they do in regards to innocents. And now . . . the name of Farley McFaine will be next and forever in the hundreds who have come before you, thanks to my photographic memory.” I sneer an just look at her. “I read about ya. Ya can’t be no Angel of Death! Yer just a panty-dropper.” She raises her finger. “And that . . . was your fatal mistake. Now you belong to me, and you will answer for what you’ve done.” I laugh a little. “I suppose yer gonna have yerself a good ol’ time, ain’t ya?” She shakes her head a little. “The only pleasure I’ll obtain will be to satisfy my ever-insistent bloodlust, since I myself feel no emotions. I fail to understand how so many of you have emotions and can bring harm to innocents without the slightest bit of remorse.” Now she’s pissed me off! “You? You don’t have feelins? Are ya fuckin’ shittin’ all over me right now?!” Now I bellow to her, “Then why, bitch? Why do ya even do this?” “Why?” She pauses. “Because . . . Mama always taught me to be a good girl!” She reaches over to a table with a lot of sharp objects on it. But the one I notice . . . is my hook. She picks it up. When she shows it to me, it looks a little different than I remember it. “I made a few modifications to your hook, Farley McFaine,” she tells me. She looks at me a little bit longer. Even I hate to admit that her stare scares the livin’ shit outta me. I try an keep myself together, but she knows I’m scared now. Oh, Jesus Christ, she knows! She raises the hook, usin’ the handle she welded onto it. “And now, Farley McFaine . . . Let the punishment fit the crime!” The hook burns when it goes across my throat. God damn, that tip is really sharp! But I don’t have much time to think about it as I’m bleedin’ out fast. The last thing I see is that Angel of Death bitch. Like she said, she ain’t smilin’ over what she’s done to me. Doesn’t really matter now. Because for me, this is it. This is . . . THE END!!
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