3 Blind Mice

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3 Blind Mice… Essay, Research Paper Oranges, Disney World, and hurricanes- the first three things to come to Fabian s mind when he thought of the most boring place to grow up- southern Florida. Let s face it, Florida can collectively be summed up as Home to the Happiest Place on Earth . Those Disney jerk-offs had commercialized their theme park so much that every child wanted his or her family to drop what ever they were currently doing in their lives, pack up the van, and take a fun-filled family vacation. That s suburban America for you, spoiled rich little brats. He could hear them, their high pitched pre-pubescent squeals of joy reverberated in his mind. Mommy, look at that silly mouse , he cringed at the thought. Just then a blood-curdling scream rang throughout his

apartment. Rise and shine my little one, a rough demonic voice demanded. Fabian uncrossed his arms from atop his chest, reached for his alarm clock, turned it so that the red flashing display pointed toward him, and shut it off. 12:00 AM, 12:00 AM, 12:01 AM it flashed. Stumbling in the dark over titles such as, Let Them Burn- The Salem Witch Trials and Crimes of Mayhem (both complete with detailed pictures), he made his way to a light switch; which was actually a useless source of illumination because the socket was occupied by a black-light bulb. None the less, he flipped the switch causing everything in the room to give off a glowing white aura. Walking over to his closet, Fabian slid one of the doors to the right exposing nothing but black shirts, tight black pants (mostly

leather), two black capes- complete with hoods, a couple of trench coats he picked up off some bum s shopping cart, and a pair of black combat boots bought from an Army surplus store. A favorite of Fabian for they had supposedly been worn by a Nazi officer who operated one of the gas chambers in a concentration camp. He donned an outfit and completed it with a razor-spiked dog collar, several chain link bracelets, and a large ring that covered most of his middle finger. This was his most prized possession and there was no reason why it shouldn t be, it had taken a lot of work to obtain it. One evening, almost a month ago, Fabian and his Goth friends got together and decided it would be fun to try and raise someone, or at least some spirits, from the dead. Needless to say they

were unsuccessful. So after they finished off a fifth of gin and about a six-pack apiece, Fabian walked to his car and pulled out three shovels. If they couldn t raise a corpse from the dead using their mental powers they would have to do it using their physical powers. And with that the three of them walked to a random grave and started digging. About two hours after they began, Fabian struck wood. Together they moved the rest of the dirt and pried open the coffin. There was a hissing noise like when you open a soda, followed by a billowing cloud of smoky stench. In their drunken haze, they had neglected to note the year on the tombstone. This guy had only been in the ground for about 4 months so he was still decomposing. All three stood in shock – mesmerized by the shadowy

undulations of the corpse s clothing. Fabian reached in and unbuttoned the front of the sport coat maggots began spilling out of the hollowed out abdominal cavity that was still oozing with black moldy bile. Shuddering in disgust, both of Fabian s accomplices jumped out of the grave and began vomiting. The booze was beginning to wear off and Fabian was getting a little freaked out himself. As he climbed out of the grave, a glint of red caught his eye. He looked down and saw a skull and crossbones with ruby red eyes occupying a digit on the body s left hand. Wanting a souvenir, he jumped back into the grave and quickly began prying off the ring. It wouldn t budge, rigger had set in and he would have to break the finger in order to get it off. So that s what he did. There was a