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Damned Fucking Shit Issue 05
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Damned Fucking Shit
Edited by Access Denied
Issue #5
Title: On iCE Part One
Date: 10/2/93
By: DeMeNTia PRaeCoX
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On iCE
A DeMeNTia PRaeCoX/DFS Production
Part One
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
The cheery sang out through the loudspeakers and floated
through the neighborhood. God, how I DESPISED that fucking song.
It was all I heard, day in, and day out. That and the demands of
all those little piece of shit kids who run up and order things.
I FUCKING HATE them too.
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
They hear me coming, and they tear outside the houses,
plummeting toward me yelling their asses off, coins shifting back
and forth in their hands. For I am the goddamned Ice Cream Man,
and I drive the fucking Ice Cream Truck.
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
But you just can't have this job for too long, I guess. I
did, and I think that because of it, I've lost my fucking mind.
Gone insane. Flipped out. I don't give a shit what you call it.
I've started to get some strange ideas, bizzare ones. After all
this time, one has finally sounded pretty damn good to me.
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
I slowly picked the .38 caliber handgun up, felt the cold
steel press against my bare skin. Heard the "click" of the
bullets as they slid into the chambers. The grinding noise as
the silencer was screwed on. The gun seemed like it was weighted
just for my hand. I moved the gun around, shifting its weight
slowly in my hand. Turning around, I aimed at imaginary targets.
Today was going to be fun.
Going outside, I hopped in the truck and turned it on. As
the engine revved up, on came the song. Fuck. Well, I guess I'd
just have to leave the damn thing going if I wanted to attract
some of those little fuckheads. I put the gun down on the seat
next to me and pulled out of the driveway.
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
It was a couple of blocks before someone was hungry. As I
was driving past a house, the door flew open, slammed shut, and a
small shape rocketed toward me, screaming "Wait, wait!" the whole
goddamned time. As if I was going to fucking take off and miss
this. As it turned out, it was a little girl, about four or five
years old. I pulled the truck to a stop and turned toward her.
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
"And what would you like, little girl?" I asked sweetly.
"Give me an ice cream sandwich!" she shrieked at me. Bitch.
"Coming right up" I responded.
I reached down onto the seat next to me, and grasped the
handle of the gun. I slowly picked it up, holding it just uinder
the window. The little bitch was looking the other way.
"Oh, little girl?"
She turned to look at me. In one fluid motion, I brought
the gun up to bear, aimed out the window, and pulled back on the
trigger. For just an instant, I saw a look of astonishment on
her face, then heard the "Whirr" of a bullet passing through a
silencer. The gun kicked, and then her little face exploded in a
puddle of blood and bits of flesh. It was hilarious.
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
I hopped out of the truck to get the little body. She, or
what was left of her, was lying face down on the ground, with a
huge hole in the back of her skull. Pieces of brain oozed out,
over the shattered bone, and dripped down what was once her face.
I picked the carcass up, went around, and back into the truck. I
opened up the ice crem freezer in back (I left it empty today)
and threw her in. Then I put the truck into drive and drove on
to find another customer.
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
A few blocks over, another victim appeared. This time it
was a boy of about seven. He didn't seem to want any ice cream
though. Too bad, he was getting some.
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
I was about half a block away when he started crossing the
street. I laughed, then slammed down on the accelerator. He
looked up, but didn't seem to understand what was about to
happen. That is, until the truck smashed into his face at 50
miles per hour.
There was a sickening "CRUNCH", and he went down. I heard a
"thud", and slammed on the brakes. Looking back, I coudln't see
him. Then I saw his head and arms sticking out from under a
tire. The fucking truck waas on top of him! I backed it off,
then I got out. Another twisted and broken body for the freezer.
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle,Jingle...
When there was no room left in the freezer, I drove home.
Lots of parents might be wondering where '"junior" was. I had
used up all of my bullets, and put several dents in the truck.
Still, I didn't care. I had a fucking blast. Now, what does one
do with about 20 bodies?
...Jingle, Jingle...Jingle, Jingle...
To Be Continued in another issue of DFS.
- DeMeNTia PRaeCoX [DFS]
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