Interrogation

I guess it was a beautiful day, but I didn’t know it for sure because I could only see the endless darkness. I mean I thought it was endless, but then I realised it wasn’t. But I don’t want to miss anything from my story, Mr Policeman, so I start it from the beginning.

I was lying in the darkness. I could see nothing, not even my beautiful body. I thought this thing around me, I mean this big black nothing was endless, but I wanted to make sure that I am not in the physical world but maybe somewhere in the space or hell or I don’t know. I tried to stretch my left arm in order to reach the end of the endless, but then I realised I didn’t have a left arm. What a shame. I was so proud of my left arm before. I was thinking another method of reaching the end of endless, but I didn’t have the foggiest idea. So after a long period of thinking, my little brain became tired and I had to sleep a bit. Or at least do something like sleeping. I don’t know if it was sleeping or not because everything was same dark all the time.

Then when I woke up, I immediately found the solution. OK, my left arm was missing, but what about the right? Yeah, that thing consisting of meat and bones and other abominable fleshy stuff was not just meat-filled tortilla roll but my right arm. After this big revelation I found out that I was not in endless darkness, but in a sack. You know these sacks: they are like the ones in the dust-bin, the only difference between them is that there is no rubbish in these but perfectly cleaned corpses. I thought I was something between dead and alive. It was cool.

After I got out that sack I found a mirror and looked at myself. Now I could see my perfect body. As everyone else in this room, I was naked; it was something like a pyjamas-party without pyjamas after a post-mortem examination. I wasn’t anatomized, so I seemed like every healthy men in my age apart from my missing left arm and that leakage on my head. I could see my brain. Perhaps a part of it was missing because I couldn’t remember what happened to me. It wasn’t like amnesia because many things came to my mind from the past, but something like the feeling after a night when you was zonked out. So my mission in long distance was to discover how I died; or more precisely, who murdered me, because the hole was made by a gun or axe or tank or any other kind of weapon. The main point is that I was killed, not simply dead by accident. In short distance I had to get out the morgue, but first of all to find some clothes.

It was not as easy in films: I couldn’t simply sneak into the locker room because a guy who looked like Ross doctor was snogging with a nurse at the door. So I had no chance to get normal clothes. Doesn’t matter, I was always famous of my creativity so I changed a sheet into a robe by a dissector. In the mirror I looked like a crossing of Ku-Klux Klan member and a ghost from a cheap horror. Doesn’t matter, nowadays many strange people are walking on the streets, so I had nothing to fear.

It was easy to find my way out. Nothing bad occurred apart from that he janitress ran away screaming when I walked through the entrance hall. On the street everybody stared at me, so I went quickly home and changed my temporary apparel. After a beer I could concentrate on my long distance mission. So I drank another beer and started to think of a plan. As I said before I was proud of my creativity, so I easily came to that conclusion that the best was to visit my girlfriend who lived not to far from my beloved home.

She greeted me with a loud scream when she saw my missing arm and my pulsating cerebrum. After telling her my story and the things I experienced in that black sack she was still shocked so I had to bring two cans of beer. After drinking them I brought one to her too. Unfortunately she was in a state of swoon so I had to drink that too.

At about midnight she had came to conscious state so we could discuss the problem. First she recommended me to find a psychiatrist but I denied. Then we talked about the possibilities how I had been killed.

‘Perhaps you committed a suicide’ she said.

‘Why would I have done that?’ I asked. Of course I knew that it was impossible because at suicide attempts people don’t chop off their arm; but I wanted her to have a good day so I didn’t send her to hell.

‘Perhaps because I said no?’ she answered.

Hey, that piece of information was missing. So this beautiful young lady in front of me wasn’t my girlfriend. It was the time to get some hooch. After two or three glasses we could continue our conversation.

‘You said no, you say? I just couldn’t remember that fact. Doesn’t matter. So I had a reason to commit a suicide… but then how my arm was chopped?’

‘Perhaps you laid in front of the train or the tram’ she said.

I always knew that she was a clever girl. She could answer this question too. And maybe she was right; but then the leakage on my head couldn’t be explained. I asked her how that could happen.

‘You might shot your head with your pistol while you were lying on the rails’ she told me.

Now this suicide-thing seemed to be a possible opportunity. But this meant that I was killed because of her. So she was the indirect murderer. Of course I didn’t want to kill her or to take a vengeance on her because what she did. She only said no; that happens many times in everyday life. Now after this thing I became interested why she said no.

‘Why did you say no, my little sweet darling?’ I asked.

‘Just because you are a hooch hound perverse egoist looser’ she said.

After all my kindness and tolerance she told this to me. In this moment it seemed to be impossible to commit a suicide because of this woman.

‘That ain’t a good reason to leave me to suffer in the dark depths of depression until I end up my pain. I think you are not very tolerant but very cruel to expect against my love’ I said and drank another glass of that hooch. If she said I was hooch hound, why not to make it true?

Then she died.

I really don’t know how it happened but I am sure I didn’t kill her. Believe me, Mr. Policeman. You say I lie? I don’t think so. Of course those fingerprints on that scythe are not mine. It must be mistake. You mixed up my fingerprints with someone else’s.  You say no? Hey, you interrupted me so rudely! Let me continue my story and don’t bother me with such small details like who killed my girlfriend who wasn’t my girlfriend!

I left the bleeding corpse of her in that room. After that I went into the pub on the corner and drank something strong. I can’t remember what was it, but I think I wasn’t drunk at all. While I was sitting at the counter with my good fellow, the glass of booze, an idea came to my mind. As I said before my left arm had been missing. So if I could find it perhaps it could direct me to the murderer.

What was my arm? Only beautiful red meat, a little skin and a few bones. So in it’s ingredients it was very similar cows body structure. And where could I find cows? Of course at the butcher’s. So I visited the nearest meat-store.

Between the piles of animal corpses and other kind of bloody, fleshy stuff I found the butcher.

‘Good afternoon’ I said ‘Do you sell human flesh?’

‘No, I don’t. But if you don’t leave this place in five seconds, I will. You seem to be very fleshy. So get away from me, Mr. Cannibal or I gonna chop off your leaked head with his nice meat cleaver!’ he told me.

What a rude man, I thought. I was sure that he had been lying to me, but I didn’t tell this to him. As you see, I am not such a rude man, am I? Mr. Policeman, this was a poetic question, you shouldn’t have answered it. But you interrupted me again. Don’t do that, if you want to hear the whole story! I’ve got the right to observe silence, so don’t make me angry!

So after he threatened me like this, he died.

No, Mr Policeman, I don’t know who killed him and how he died. I can’t remember such details. But I know I couldn’t do that because I am so innocent. You say I am not? Hey, I said do not interrupt me again! If you do this once more I will shut my mouth forever and you won’t know the second half of the story! Thank you.

I left the shop and went to the pub to think about the next step I would have to take. After another beer I felt I had to vomit. In the toilet I threw all the food and drink I consumed in the last few days. Then I looked on the big, green, disgusting thing in the toilet bowl. At this point I have to add that a fortune-teller sat next to me in penitentiary and he taught me the basics of her profession. We had such a good relationship…. but I don’t want to come round my private life and childhood. I think it’s enough if I say she became a happy matron with six children at the age of eighteen. You say I am a perverse, pathological guy? I don’t think so. It was just common there; I can assure you about that, my dear Mr. Policeman.

As I said I knew the bases of fortune-telling. And when I looked at my vomit, I saw it was forming a special omen. It meant that I was killed by a train. I didn’t commit a suicide, I was sure about that, so I had to find the person who did this to me.

I guessed if the murderer once travelled by train, he would travel again in the same time. So I needed to know when the crime happened. I am not a Sherlock Holmes but I knew how I could get that information. I immediately went to the laboratory where the archaeologists usually go in order to get their fossils’ age analyzed.

A young doctor was on shift, and he refused to examine my stub. He said he hadn’t examined living things before. I didn’t think that my bloody flesh was living, but I tolerated his opinion and said nothing.

But then he died.

Mr Policeman, why are you blaming me? You say I am psychopathic serial-killer? No, I am definitely not. It was just a series of casual accidents. I don’t think there is any connection between them except I was there. But that doesn’t proof anything. Of course not. How could I be a mass murderer, a man-slaughterer or anything? The paediatrician said I was absolutely healthy when I was seven, so there can’t be such a big problem with my mentality. You say I am twenty-eight now? Yeah, I am; I had my birthday last week. You didn’t even send a postcard. What a rude young blood. I mean would you be so kind to shut your mouth and listen to my story?! Thank you.

So I did the test, but I am not a qualified doctor or something so I couldn’t analyze the exact date; but because I have well-developed logical skills, I found that I was killed between 1977 and 2005. How clever I am. So with that big needle in my bloody-fleshy stub I went to the supermarket to buy something to drink. After some glasses of hooch you become very thirsty, don’t you? You know how it is going. You say, no, you don’t know? I don’t want to be rude but I think you are a traitor of male gender. Every real man knows how handy a can of beer can come after some stronger liquid protection. I don’t want to criticise you, but I think you are not capable for this job. You should really think about committing suicide, Mr Policeman. Hey, just don’t tell me to shut up! I was so kind and tolerant with you, and you say things like this? We won’t be good friends, I guarantee. I thought this friendly chitchat will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but I see you are so antisocial.

After another couple of beers I came to that decision that I had to destroy the Earth to make sure that the murderer is dead; but I am not a violent guy, so I didn’t want to do such a big massacre. I always liked my fellow-beings, so I decided not to kill everybody but only the people who travel on the trains on the railway in the city. I thought I was killed there.

I visited the military base in the neighbourhood to get some explosives. I heard that those guys from the east got the stuff from there when they destroyed themselves on the vehicles of public transport.

You blame me again. If I say no, I didn’t kill anybody, than I mean I didn’t kill anybody. It is a mystery for me how the soldiers could die in such short time. I heard that there was a survivor, is that right? He can tell you that I didn’t kill him. But let me tell you that you are very annoying sometimes. You are like a politician: you tell me what to do and change my past and blame me, the most innocent people of the mortal world.

I planned the action very well, I think. I knew that if I wanted to destroy every train, I would have had to cause an explosion in every ten seconds on the railway. Of course that box of explosives wouldn’t have been enough for such a big project so I found it easier to destroy the railway station. I borrowed a van from the parking lot, put the stuff in the back of it and started my journey from the military base to the final destination.

After all that ten cans of beer and six glasses of stronger drink I can’t remember all the details. No, Mr Policeman, I was not drunk. I was as sober as in this moment. I think you are the one who drank too much. Otherwise how could you grow those other two heads? The alcohol did that with you. Alcohol is bad for you. So why don’t you give that wine me? No, I don’t want to be too intrusive; I ask this only because the guards of law’s health are much more important than a simple mortal creature’s. I would gladly takeover the negative effects of that drink.

Where was I? Oh, yes, at the explosion. It was quite difficult to bring it in the middle of the station, but suddenly all the security guards’ head was shot, so I didn’t have to worry about them. I left my love-parcel where I saw the most of the people was standing and then I walked out. A bit further I pressed the big red button, –you know, the one which looks like the nose of a clown in action films- and than watched the show. It was so beautiful; like a candle on the Christmas tree. Only in a bit larger stripping.

As I told you before, I can’t remember the details. If you want to know more about this, let’s look at the cover of the daily news.

The problem is that I am not sure that the murder was killed in this accident. That’s why I am here. I would like to ask for protection of police. I am afraid that he will find me again and attempt to efface me. For an average philistine like me this amount of fear is too much. I can’t live on the same planet with that psychopath who has done this to me.

What? You say I won’t live much because I will be executed? Why do you say that? Hey, you are not right. This is not fair. You can’t tell me what I’ve done just because you have that badge on your coat! I didn’t kill those people at the railway station. I thought everybody left the station before I pushed the red button. That was just a sorrowful accident they didn’t. I commiserate with their relatives and do other nice things like that, but now talk about my protection.

You say I will be safe in the prison? Not a bad idea at all, Mr Policeman! It is the best idea you had since my arrival. But then how can I get my daily liquid protection? Hey, don’t be so barbaric! These handcuffs are a bit tight! Can’t you get me a bigger one? No? Hey, I thought we could be good friends. OK, no bigger handcuffs, but that drink you drank…you can’t be so cruel to keep it to yourself…. no, I am not an alcoholist…