reads Smissmas comic, sighs deeply, writes response. It never dies after your first time. Winds down with age and routine, sure. Your heart doesn’t split your ribs so much as it just thumps a mite louder than the last, but it ain’t ever gone. I ran from it for years, not really knowing why or what the hell it even was for the longest time. Joined Teufort police academy. Thrown out before year’s end, told I wasn’t cut out for an honest man’s work. Tried the other side to spite the chief, but I knew I didn’t wanna bother no little old ladies, no plain man who just wanted to see his kids after pushing papers to keep their fingers warm and their bellies fed. She told me to run. The line crackled and the shoppers were hollering all over but she was clear as day. He told me with those dead blue eyes to stay, to kill, and to enjoy. It never died after my first time. Didn’t let go when I left the mall, the school, the academy, the county jail. Didn’t leave when I took the old hags and the overworked dads from their sons and daughters for dimes. I’d wished and prayed it gone but truthfully, if it holds on, if this godforsaken thirst in my soul for a killer’s euphoria, if it stays put long enough for me to find that fancy suit and strip it to ribbon, I don’t think I’ll mind damnation.
Spy is so good with kids.