Bad Romance

I turned my head for two seconds, when I look back, BOOM! World is over. This is what insanity feels like, you don’t even feel anything when the world ends besides a sense that another damn thing has happened.

Next thing you know, some bath salt smoker is chewing on the face of their neighbor. Everyone laughs about that for a moment, then their grandmother is doing it, then some little kid is dragging a useless leg behind them and reaching out with a three fingered hand so they can gnaw with their remaining milk teeth. All the sudden, it’s not funny anymore. At the point that they’re having to choose between what they’ve always thought of as their humanity, and smashing a six-year-old’s skull on the pavement, most people choose wrong.

I can handle this, I know how to deal with them. You play some Michael Jackson, or some Billy Ray Cyrus. They’ll dance to Achy Breaky Heart, which should have been an early warning sign in my opinion. Anything with a danceable beat, it gets into their hind brain, past the hunger. Bad Romance will also do the trick too, but that’s just too sick for me. Even I have some standards. Bad Leroy Brown just makes them stand there and look at you quizzically as you slice them to pieces. It’s not that I find this fun, but I do find it interesting and in some cases nessicary to save people not smart enough to run away.

The problem is, splattering blood of some face eater on another person’s face makes the second person loose their shit. You save someone, and they demand to know why you just did what you did. So I left the idiot to the people he seemed to prefer, and they ate him. I’m having a serious sympathy deficiency right now. People that stupid don’t deserve to live.