Go Big or Go Home!

Since the very beginning of time as I know it, I have been what you would call, “different”, or “weird” or even “special”, if you may. For instance, my first word was “pooh”, and I spoke that when I was 1 and a half years old. And then, I went on to learn to read when I was 3.

A spiral of events, my childhood was, in short. My parents were indifferent. My dad, a prodigal scientist, blamed (rather, prided over) it on his genes, and my mother, for one, an adrenaline addict, simply hounded over the brilliancy of her son for a day or two and moved on.

I’m nineteen now, and everything is still the same, yes, I’m still extraordinarily abnormal. My “terrific twenty ” is in exactly 27 days, and it’s going to be terrific, alright. Seeing as to how, I have no friends, to actually invite over for my birthday, I decided to do the one thing I’ve been yearning to do for 20 years now.

When I was 7, I had an “episode” of sorts. And by episode, I mean, a very very abnormal thing. Things were no different back then, and the no friends part was still the same. When teachers told my dad this, he said, “He’s my son, after all, solitude is the way to go. I had no friends, I have no friends, and I shall have no friends, for they are a mere distraction.” And I was disappointed that my dad didn’t react the way I wanted him to, maybe care a little? It wasn’t like I wanted to have friends, it’s just that it would have been nice to have some amount of concern from my dad’s side.

That day, my dad took me straight to his lab and showed me around to all the chemicals, and their varying degrees of lethality when consumed, inhaled or brought in contact. My dad is a theoretical physicist and I still have no idea why he even owned these.

So that night I let him have one last hearty laugh, with some nitrous oxide. The next morning, four people, my mum, a slender policewoman, and my dad’s parents came over for his funeral. They all stayed quiet, and my grandpa said something like, I knew this “physics” thing he did would kill him one day, and my grandma hushed him and said, he died because of chemicals, and grandpa grumpily wiped his forehead with his speckless white kerchief and said “Whatever.”

My mum asked me what my dad told me the previous night, and I ever so smoothly said, “Nothing.” and went to my room. My mum has stopped talking to me since, and she just feeds me and occasionally signs my perfect report card. For my last 12 birthdays, she just dropped me at my grandparents’ place and left home.

So I decided, for this birthday, I would drop her at my grandparents’ place, and spend my birthday in peace and solitude, just as my late dad would have wanted to. My dad always said, “Go big, or go home.” and I thought of pointing out to him that he always was home, even when he was “going big”, but as you may have understood, my dad doesn’t like humor that much.

Anyways, this birthday, I was going to take his advice, and “Go Big.” I counted down to my birthday and went over my plan every day in my head, perfecting each step every day. As my birthday neared, I had decided, “dropping off” my mom at my grandparents’ place was too risky.

As 12 am struck and May 31st dawned, my fast asleep mom, I carried from the bedroom to my dad’s garage, that I hadn’t entered in years. I dropped her on the bed my dad would lie down on several nights, after working. I had given her a strong sleeping pill, ad she wasn’t going to wake for the next few hours. I locked the garage from the outside, and headed to my dad’s secret chemical stash, and got all the materials I would need.

I showered and dressed up to flex my mother’s genes, the good- looking part, yes. I drove to the bar and ordered my favorites, non- alcoholic drinks(oops). As I downed several shots of non-alcoholic something and looked around for the most attractive woman, that would fit “my profile”.

My mother would be proud to know, that the fish fell in the net within a few minutes. I was on my way to wooing a super hot 21-year-old, new and bright-eyed, but it also felt like she knew more than she let on. In the next 30 minutes we were wrestling in bed, and everything was perfectly playing out, to the minute.

I slid my hand to the table where I had my perfectly measured injection filled, and slowly fingered her back with the other hand. In a flurry of action, the syringe went up her neck, and she looked at me bewildered before she closed her eyes.

I carried her to my dad’s secret chemical stash that I had completely prepped for this. I  lay her on the table and snapped pictures of my first naked victim. I got my tools and was about to get to work when something struck me. I knew this woman. I had seen her somewhere.

She was the policewoman, at my dad’s funeral. As she stirred and wrestled sleepily from the table, I ran my knife across her cheek, and she shuddered a little.

“Why were you at my dad’s funeral, again?”

“Investigating his de-” she slurred

“I see, what did you find?”

“Your fingerprints all over the cylinder of nitrous oxide.”

“That’s right, and then?”

“Your dad’s a serial killer. We were going to catch him that night. We had gotten some evidence, but you ended up-”

“Shut up,” I screamed. It was the genes, after all.

“What did you nickname him-you guys give us those titles don’t you?”

“The Chemist.”

I smiled and slapped her red cheek and gagged her.

“I’m going BIGG tonight, alright!”

 

 

 

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