Cannibal Tim: A Parting Gift

Episode I

Thank ye reader folks. You have showered appreciation, praise, suggestions and page views by the ton and for that I am grateful.

Here is a sort of a parting gift. (It's not money, boo-hoo)

..someday, he'll be back

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Cannibal Tim: Episode V

Previously: Episode IV -> Episode III -> Episode II -> Episode I

Episode V

The Jaguar hit them at full tilt.

Time seemed to slow down. Tim, by virtue of not having been fastened, was hurled out of the car via windshield. Dan the anesthesiologist was a very good teacher.
There was no pain as Tim landed on his cold ass. He could see the Jag. It had smashed his humble car.

Judy couldn't have chosen a more incorrect moment to be hungry. The seatbelt didn't let her move. The smoke was a clear indicator.

The car blew up.

Tim calculated the time. He was right. Full mobility would return in 15 minutes. Judy had obviously planned on getting wherever she wanted to take him in that time.

Tim started moving his legs as soon as a sliver of feeling returned in them. He crawled. Tim cautiously checked the Jag. The occupant was speared. Pain was slowly returning to him. He checked Judy.

She was crisply done. Her skull had been blown open. She couldn't have survived. Not after all this. Sirens could be heard in the cold distance. Tim started crawling towards the nearest desolate warehouse. Blood flowed from his ear-hole. He was starting to feel woozy.
He kept his head tilted at an angle; last thing he needed now was a blood trail.

On his way there, Tim came across a brain. He surmised it to be the occupant of Judy's now empty, fried skull.

Tim usually had standards. But this time it was personal. And he was hungry. He picked the brain and sniffed it.

It didn't smell good. He couldn't eat that crap.

After all, Tim had taste.


...the end?

Cannibal Tim: Episode IV

Previously: Episode I -> Episode II -> Episode III

Episode IV

"What for?"

"It is none of your business."

"It is if you plan on eating me."

"Yes. I plan to do that. I even brought cutlery."

"I can't look. I can't move anything apart from my head."

"Well, then I would say Dan the anesthesiologist taught me well"

"Dan Baker? 4th seat, middle row?"

"No. Not him. He is the school gym teacher now. Dan something, I don't even remember."

"You ever use them?"

"In what way? I told you. I eat them. I don't play with them."

"Am I a special case then?"

"Shut up wilya?!"

"Well, you should have done it in your lair. In the basement. You keep souvenirs don't you? I caught the formaldehyde."

"Smart aren't you? It will be a pity to eat you. I could almost see a future for us."

"Really what kind?"

"The one with your head on my plate. Now shut up."

"Will you just fasten my seatbelt? A last wish if you may call it."

The dimly lit neon light told Tim it was at the corner of 4th and Levinson. There was desolation and abandoned warehouses ahead. She moved her hand to complete his last wish, all the time keeping an eye on the road.

Tim had other plans.

She screamed loudly as Tim bit her. He swallowed the tape and a finger along with it. Blood flowed freely. The pain must have been enormous because her scream was not enough to express it.

Cursing loudly, she let caution to the wind. She let go of the steering wheel just as the car was nosing into a turn. The blood lust became unbearable as she gripped Tim's head and ripped off his ear in a bite.

Tim wanted to scream too but he could see it. She couldn't. 

...to be concluded

Cannibal Tim: Episode III

Previously: Episode I -> Episode II

Episode III

The house was good. The table was set. The food was served.

He followed her into the kitchen as a nice pet would. She beckoned him over to her, near the slow simmering meatball sauce. He went over. She asked him to smell the sauce. It smelled very nice. The house smelled of it. They ate in peace. There was electricity running in the air. The food was eaten. Loving glances were exchanged and caring touches were experienced. The dishes were cleared.

He stood admiring a painting on the wall. It was by one Stephen Hawk. The name was a bit familiar. He smelled her behind him and turned around. She was standing close to him. She reached out to him, and kissed him lightly on the right cheek. Tim closed his eyes and tried to breathe in her hair. Probably why he didn't fell the prick of the needle.

M99. Animal grade. Knocked him out for two hours.

The smell woke him. He knew what it was immediately. Formaldehyde. He wondered where he was. He thought about the smell. The painting swam back into recollection. He tried moving his hands but found himself straight-jacketed. He tried moving his legs but they were strapped to the ceiling.

Wait a minute.

He was upended. In Judy's basement. She was looking at him. Sitting in a red chair.

"Stephen Hawk. He was the love of your life, wasn't he? You plan to avenge him?"

"Don't flatter yourself. The only thing I do with men is eat them."

The sweet coy smile was back.

"And the only thing you did was eat him. I had marked him for thanksgiving."

She got up and walked up to him. She bent down and kissed him on the lips. Despite the obvious discomfort he was in, he liked the kiss. But he hated the needle defiling him again.

He wasn't out for long this time. He knew because he could see the dashboard watch of his car. Judy was driving. Little angelic Judy in a little red dress. Tim was still without the use of his body. He had only the comforting warmth of his seat.

"Where are we going?", he asked. Judy did not answer. Well, not at first. And when she did he wished she hadn't.

"Donnington Cemetery."

...to be continued

Cannibal Tim: Episode II

Previously: Episode I

Episode II

Judy Halpert. Fat, short, blue eyes, fair. Sat on the 3rd seat, last row. 

First in all History & Biology tests. Last in all else.
She was a nobody back then. Tim had made a living out of being a nobody and he intended to continue doing that. 

So when he killed Casey Caan, former Chemistry lab partner, he ensured that she had no dependents. Nelly Buford, ex-flame. No job. 

Annie Lee was eaten in cold December. With the help of a bonfire, in Ghostwood near Pin Teaks. Judy was not married. Known to be single. 

Tim was very ready to mingle.

Tim had never known love. Yet, when he saw Judy he knew. She was standing next to the fake palm tree in the Grand Northern lobby, as he had instructed, wearing a red hat. For all his rationality, Tim loved this particular motif.
In his black heart, he knew that he could never  eat her. He had planned on it. But the feeling was overwhelming. It was as true as the love that good-for-nothing Romeo so daringly proclaimed for Juliet, that two-bit tramp. 

Tim knew. Then he realized Judy was standing right in front of him. He moved his mouth, fully expecting words to march out like Napoleonic armies. He was after all an orator. Instead, Tim said nothing. He could not manage a single piece of coherency.

Judy smiled. She recognized Tim. He was as cute as he was in school. A thin layer of stubble graced his face. She looked into his brown eyes, smiled reassuringly and said, "Dinner. My place. 8 O’clock" while slipping him her card. Tim managed a smile. Though he did suspect it might have barely looked like one. She walked away from him. A few paces. 

Then she turned around, smiled wickedly and said, "I don't like to wait." He smiled now. He sniffed the air where she had been standing a moment ago; it smelled of daisies, chocolate and something else he could not place. He did not care at all for it. Tim was struck by il fulmine - the thunderbolt.

Judy's house had a garden. A nice place with daisies. Tim might have been in love but he couldn't disregard his predatory instincts. He checked if he had been followed before getting out of the car. He walked through the shadows to pass undetected from prying neighboring eyes. He reached the white fence with the blue gate. She made chocolates at home and sold it to a distributor directly. He walked up to the door and rang the bell. 

After a moment, that predictably registered as an eternity, Judy's pleasant visage greeted him, "Come on in."

...to be continued

Cannibal Tim: Episode I

Episode I

"I have to watch what I am doing."

This is the first thing Tim said to himself. 

Everyday. He had to. 

Society hasn't really matured enough to accept cannibalism. Tim was a cannibal. He ate people. But not just any people. Tim had a job. He talked. For a living, Tim delivered talks on 'The Single Salesman' and 'Why You need to get up and get out?' These talks usually attracted the kind of sappy females Tim liked to eat. 

The kind that would lap this crap up. Ironic considering that he was the one delivering that crap. Human error. Just because he was a cannibal doesn't mean, he wasn't human. He had a certain charm. He was known in the circles.

Tim never approached anyone. He waited for them to come. First one to reach him was the lucky prize.
"Welcome to Café Tim. Pick a table and lie down on it.
Would you like to be carved?
Would you like a nice hot fire?
Or the usual knife to the heart work for you?" 

Big brown eyes would gaze into the female's soul and she would fall. They would talk some more. Tim would do his whole time-tested routine and a meeting would be set up. Tim would show up and the rest as they say would be dinner.

This worked for Tim.
He was not particularly greedy. He delivered about two such seminars a month. Usually out of town. He would kill only once. Being on the road had its advantages, no one to wait for you at home and ask awkward questions. Though Tim would have probably eaten the person waiting for him at home. He wasn't violent by nature. In fact, in school he had been voted 'most likely to die alone in the end'.

Since then, Tim had eaten 3 of his classmates and he was particularly looking forward to meet Judy.


...to be continued

Constant of Change

British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan to the Parliament of South Africa, on 3 February 1960 in Cape Town made a speech.

The speech acquired its name from a now-famous quotation embedded in it. Macmillan said:

The wind of change is blowing through this continent. Whether we like it or not, this growth of national consciousness is a political fact.

I have been an errant blogger and not a very good one. I don't intend to change that.

For I am no blogger. I am or fancy myself to be a writer. I intend to continue to honour my promise to no one in particular and experiment with the blog.

But from here onwards, it shall predominantly be a voice, a thought or that oh-so-itchy obscure cultural reference.

Over this year, however it may be, I shall try to be constant through this change. I will grow bored eventually but I shall persevere to preserve this promise, to be true to myself.

You know that whistle intro to The Scorpions' Wind of Change. Yes that. I shall try to be that.

However the need to end on a joke persists, no resolution ipsum.