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"..But when I sit down something strange on the stage catches my eye. Bono has now moved across the stage, following me to my seat, and he's staring into my eyes, kneeling at the edge of the stage, wearing black jeans (maybe Gitano), sandals, a leather vest with no shirt beneath it. His body is white, covered with sweat, and it's not worked out enough, there's no muscle tone and what definition there might be is covered beneath a paltry amount of chest hair. He has a cowboy hat on and his hair is pulled back into a ponytail and he's moaning some dirge--I catch the lyric "A hero is an insect in this world"--and he has a faint, barely noticeable, but nonetheless intense smirk on his face and it grows, spreading across it confidently, and while his eyes blaze, the backdrop of the stage turns red and suddenly I get this tremendous surge of feeling, this rush of knowledge, and I can see into Bono's heart and my own beats faster because of this and I realize that I'm receiving a message of some kind from the singer. It hits me that we have something in common, that we share a bond, and it's not impossible to believe that an invisible cord attached to Bono has now encircled me and now the audience disappears and the music slows down, gets softer, and it's just Bono onstage--the stadium's deserted, the band fades away--and the message, his message, once vague, now gets more powerful and he's nodding at me and I'm nodding back, everything getting clearer, my body alive and burning, on fire, and from nowhere a flash of white and blinding light envelopes me and I hear it, can actually feel, can even make out the letters of the message hovering above Bono's head in orange wavy letters: "I . . . am . . . the . . . devil . . . and I am . . . just . . . like . . . you . . ." And then everyone, the audience, the band, reappears and the music slowly swells up and Bono, sensing that I've received the message--I actually know that he feels me reacting to it--is satisfied and turns away and I'm left tingling, my face flushed, an aching erection pulsing against my thigh, my hands clenched in fists of tension. But suddenly everything stops, as if a switch has been turned off, the backdrop flashes back to white. Bono--the devil--is on the other side of the stage now and everything, the feeling in my heart, the sensation combing my brain, vanishes and now more than ever I need to know about the Fisher account that Owen is handling and this information seems vital, more pertinent than the bond of similarity I have with Bono, who is now dissolving and remote..."
Bret Easton Ellis / American Psycho. [page; 146]
“…there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman Some kind of abstraction, but real me, only an entity, Something illusory, and though I can hide my you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. It is hard sense on any given level. Myself is fabricated, an aberration.
there is no cold gaze and even sense our for me to make
I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago (probably at Harvard) if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this—and I have, countless times, in just about every act I’ve committed - and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis.
" Annoyed." one of the girls." "Was this a pimp?" I ask -then the weird part happens. The head itself lies covered with brain pulp.I gain no deeper knowledge about myself. says in a baby's voice." She sips from her glass. . which means no one is keeping watch over the apartment anymore. Because of the stench I decide to use Paul Owen's apartment for a little tryst I have planned for tonight. anything. after pouring them another drink. disappointingly. is brief since I'm having a difficult time containing my disordered self. at Pierce & Pierce. and she's looking confused. though actually the smell is caused by what I scooped out of Christie's head and pured into a Marco glass bowl that sits on a counter neat the entrance way.My appearances in the office the last month or so have been sporadic to say the least. lifting weights. and then I have to admit to myself what a turn-on it is encouraging these girls to debase themselves in front of me for what amounts to pocket change. Someone I talk to through my lawyer tells me that Donald Kimball."lets just call him a business acquaintance." She shrugs dumbly. and then I ask. there were none. no one has put a trace on. hollow and eyeless. knives. He saidhe went to Harvard. then cancel them. sitting on the black leather couch beneath the strip of faux-cowhide paneling.. I'm thinking. a bottle of acid. I find myself hearing a voice-one of theirs-asking if that's a shoe store. My apartment reeks of rotten fruit. Midnight. "It's not that nice. that someone spotted him twice in the lobby of Claridge's. though there is one on his platinum AmEx.about Princess Di's beauty tips. Kimball flew over two nights ago. I didn't believe him. This confession has meant nothing. Again..bret easton ellis Girls. I've had the premises scanned for surveillance devices. "It's a real palace. "Let's just say a business acquaintance. no new understanding can he extracted from my telling.. Tiffany flips through an issue of GQ that's three months old. "Well.." she starts nervously. "You live in a place. "A client?" I ask. like she doesn't understand something." She looks over at Tiffany. All I seem to want to do now is work out.. after a pause. "I had a business acquaintance who said he went there. interested. Torri. has heard that Owen really is in London. and the keys I stole from Owen still function so I was able to bring the tools (a power drill. I suppose because everyone thinks Owen is now in London. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. awed by Owen's ridiculous-looking condo.” -american psycho . the private investigator. mostly. "Well" -she stalls again before continuing. the nail gun. I shoot her a glance. I mention to both of them that I work on Wall Street. mister. then back at me. like. Pray. "He had. and secure reservations at new restaurants I've already been to. just part. blonde hardbodies with big tits. The conversation I have with the two girls. The Patty Winters Show today was -ironically. this . "Ever hear of it?" I'm shocked when Torrie answers. but. Neither seems particularly interested. I also mention." While making drinks from Owen's well-stocked bar. charging them on Owen's gold American Express which. both very young. Our mutual silence encourages her to keep talking and she continues haltingly. I thought. once each at a tailor on Savile Row and at a trendy new restaurant in Chelsea. in the corner of the living room beneath the piano and I plan to use it as a jack-o'lantern on Halloween. I hire two escort girls from a reputable if somewhat sleazy private establishment I've never used before. a Bic lighter) over there after lunch. you bitch. that I went to Harvard.
should be privy to this information. wet and glistening.. on her back. but when I look up at Torri. right now. sometimes it's very quiet in the room except for the wet sounds me cock makes slipping in and out of one of the girls' vaginas. meat and pubic hair hanging from my moth. I use mace to blind both of them momentarily and then I knock them unconscious with the butt of the nail gun. geysers of the stuff. his apartment." she concludes bitterly and hugs herself. an exposure meter and a built in neutral density filter and sits on a tripod. clears her throat. turn one of the tapes off." Sex happens-a hard-core montage. "I don't care. her face covered with blood because I've cut her lips off with a pair of nail scissors.. totally immobilized by the monster of reality. a bitch. obviously upset by this story. frigid. what. Silence. As usual." She swallows. firm tits. "The monkey would only watch. uselessly tyring to warm herself.. blood covering my face. but" -she finishes her drink and rolling her eyes. And I would have to watch this monkey in. as if she's losing her mind here. I want her to watch what I'm going to do to Torri and she's propped up in a way tat makes this unavoidably."with the commercials edited our. how to eat pussy. I look at Torri then at the other girl." Again she stops. And I brace myself for something shocking. whether you've led a. net over the side of the bed. turn the channel. 'cause there was nothing else to do while the guy was out. After I shave Torri's pussy she lies on her back on Paul's futon and spreads her legs while I finger her and suck it off. Torrir urging Tiffany to fuck her cunt harder with it. decent life. Tiffany hungrily tongues her pussy. occasionally gulping. in an attempt to understand these girls I'm filing their deaths. She starts squealing. if I wanted to watch soap instead or something. Again I make the two of them eat each other out but it starts failing to turn me on--all I can think about is blood and what their blood will look like and though Torri knows what to do. "And you know. in Owen's apartment and wants me to." She sighs.5mm film f/3. With Torri and Tiffany I use a Minox LX ultra-miniature camera that takes 9. greased dildo.5 lens. I'm biting hard. "The Oprah Winfrey Show and that's all it would watch. if we. "Relax. Tiffany." She stops.monkey.. stumbling over my own words. The two of them come. sometimes licking her asshole.. starts. or not. I stare at the Angelis silk-screen print hanging over the bed and I'm thinking about pools of blood. utter silence. The guy had tapes and tapes of it and he made all of the for this monkey" -now she looks over at me. Torri spreads her legs and fingers her own clit while Tiffany fucks her with the huge. blood pumping from Tiffany's torn cunt onto the comforter. Arctic.. until finally. a connection. Fucking one of them with a condom while the other sucks my balls. it doesn't subdue me and I push her away from Tiffany's cunt and start licking and biting at the pink. then in a sudden rush admits. me and the other bitch. I finally say something. continues monotone. a quizzical expression creasing her face as i she's not sure she should be telling us this story. Standing there. gnawing at Tiffany's cunt. I've put a CD of the Traveling WIlburys into a portable CD . and she stars tensing up. looks like she's going to cry but doesn't. trying to pull away. I can feel her sudden rush of horror... Tiffany is tied up with six pairs of Paul's suspenders on the other side of the bed. something revelatory." I sat soothingly. irritation me-while I call her a nasty whore. and Torrie reaches down and squeezes Tiffany's big. Tiffany and I take turns eating Torri's hairless cunt and asshole.... takes in the room. you try to turn the channel and that d-damn monkey would try to scratch you. Then Tiffany sucks my cock-her tongue is hot and wet and she keeps flicking it over the head. smothering her screams. "I'd want to watch TV all day. in a sixty-nine position.. and finally she scream as my teeth rip into her flesh. verify it?. something wrong with this monkey. gasping." She stops and takes a deep breath. Once their cunts are wet enough I bring out a dildo and let the two of them play with it. shivering. moaning with fear. continues bravely--"the monkey would s-s-screech at me and it would only calm down when Oprah was on. imploringly. and while I tried to keep an eye on the monkey. The light burning over us in the apartment is cold and electric. But there was. soft. Torri thinks Tiffany is coming and grinds her own cunt harder onto Tiffany's mouth. yelling simultaneously. who looks queasy. One time I tired to. Torri awakens to find herself tied up.. "It would only watch. lapping at them. wet cuntness while Torri spreads her ass and sits on Tiffany's face while fingering her own clit. she comes.
not wanting to waste time. While she's still conscious I roll her over.. Unable to linger since there are things to be done today: return videotapes. Then. Most of the neck's innards. While Tiffany watches. no confusion. I keep spraying Torrie with Mace and then I try to cut off her fingers with nail scissors and finally I pour acid onto her belly and genitals. most broke in half. using the nail gun. even the ceiling-and holding the head up. "I'll let you go.player that sits on the headboard above the bed. I turn off the lights and in the dark before she dies I rip open her stomach with my bare hands. One of the bodies. This is amusing for a while but I need to rest so I remove the head. massive head I widen that hole while she shakes. both breasts having been pierced by them. burning my thumb and pinkie in the process. covered with blood. Afterwards I'm so hard I can even walk around the blood-soaked room carrying the head. and it burns me that she actually looks up hopefully for a moment before she sees the lit match I'm holding in my hand that I've torn from a matchbook I picked up in the bar at Palio's where I was having drinks with Robert Farrell and Robert Prechter last Friday. hang out of her mouth and her whole body starts twitching. the words I AM BACK and below it a scary drawling which looks like this . until it disappears up to my wrist--all the while her head shakes uncontrollably. What's left of both bodies is in early rigor mortis. complaing out loud. watching HBO on Owen's TV. wondering why Owen doesn't have Cinemax. and I'm hoping she realizes her punishment will end up being relatively light compared to what I've planned for the other one. I take my cock. and then quickly. turning her over again. deep into her throat. and then I'm sitting in a chain. which she instinctively closes. a reddish-black tunnel of twisted tongue and loosened teeth.. until I come. but she can't bite down since the drill ripped her teeth out of the gums--and grab at the veins lodged there like tubes and I loosen them with my fingers and when I've gotten a good grip on them violently yank them out of her mouth.. like a prize. which feels warm and weightless. I nail the dildo that I've tied to a board deep into her rectum. No fear. the skin tightens and splits though there's little blood. including the jugular. naked. and I stop. owing to tears and Mace. and I lower it to her eyes. on my dick. shaking spasmodically. Part of Tiffany's body--I think it's her even though I'm having a hard time telling the two apart--has sunken in and her ribs jut out. purple with stiffness. and lowering Torri's head to my lap I push it into her bloodied mouth and start fucking it. With blood from one of the corpses' stomachs that I dip my hand into. and spreading her ass cheeks. the one on the floor has been defecated on and seems to be covered with teeth marks where I had bitten into it. her mouth open as wide as possible.. I cut all the flesh off around her mouth and using the power drill with a detachable. savagely. making incisions with a steak knife and ripping bits of flesh from her legs and stomach while she creams in vain. making them sure they stay open with my fingers. protesting. I start be skinning Torrie a little. her body weak with fear. A head has been nailed to the wall. until the eyeballs burts. Later--now--I'm telling Tiffany. then I finally use a Bic lighter and hold it up to both sockets. gently. I can't tell what I'm doing with them but it's making wet snapping sounds and my hands are hot and covered with something. which is slick. from what's left of her stomach. exploding into it. and once I'm satisfied with the size of the hole I've created. I force my hand down. I scrawl in dripping red letters above the faux-cowhide paneling in the living room. her melted eyes running down her face mixing with the tears and Mace. placing it in Paul's oak and teak armoire.. disappears. shh. so I resort to stabbing her in the throat and eventually the blade of the knife breaks off in what's left of her neck. but none of this comes close to killing her. pulling until the neck caves in. drinking a Corona." and I'm stroking her face. to mute any screams. a new British musical on Broadway I promised Jeanette I'd take her to a dinner reservation to be made somewhere. stuck on bone. The aftermath. singeing both eyelashes and brows. fingers lie scattered or arranged in some kind of circle around the CD player. finally I saw the entire head off-torrents of blood splash against the walls. like a roach on its back. work out at the gym. begging for mercy in a high thin voice.
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