Ding! Ding!
Ding! We have a winner! Another victim! Another soul to taint with poison. ‘They’re here to take us away! Oh no!’
They’re innocent, so clean and pure, but not after today. Today we slaughter that beautiful lamb. Are they really lambs now? Oh! precious is the flow that makes me white as
snow. Shall we take this crown of thorns
and adorn their soft hair with blood?
They all line up, one by one, so sweet and kind, not realizing that they
march to a machine, a machine that will use them up and spit them out. They are investing in a game they can’t win.
I hate my job. The lambs, the
lambs. My lambs. I love my sweet little lambs, but they must
know. The machine is ready; their faces
are bright. God, look at all these
beautiful lambs! I don’t know which one
to taint first. The tall blonde s**t who reminds me of my mother? Or maybe the
doe eyed one who resembles my first long lost love? So many lambs. I can’t wait to hold their delicate hearts in
my hands, stained with money and greed, as the cup runneth over with the blood
of my beautiful lambs.