Disclaimer: American Psycho and all characters associated with it, belong to Bret Easton Ellis.
As I sit here, the blonde hardbody I picked up last night at Per Se, lays behind me on my white oak floor, the gurgling noise coming from what's left of her throat is beginning to irritate me and though I wanted her to die quite slowly, I might have to hack her head off.
The only reason I have chosen to sit at my computer, instead of watching the cunt die, is that I am fighting the urge to grant this bitch any kind of leniency, I really one this one to suffer to her last breath. Already though I want to turn around and stab her in the tits a couple more times as I notice her blood has spattered all over my computer desk.
My Bang and Oulfsen Belolab aluminum speakers, 3,200 dollars from Luxury Launches seem to be the only item which has escaped from the red splotches, if they hadn't managed to avoid this spray, there is no way she would still be gurgling on the floor. I have used some cotton, alcohol free facial wipes, to clean up the spatters from my carbon leather mouse pad, 524 dollars from the formula 1 website, and luckily for the bitch on the floor, no blood appear to have become stuck between the keys of my 8000 series keyboard, 249 dollars directly from microsoft.
I do not exaggerate when I tell you that the hardbody got what she deserved, when I brought her back to my apartment, intending to do nothing more than fuck her, as I have just got my Chinese silk sheets back from the dry cleaners, she spotted the book on my Formica table and immediately started babbling about how much she loved it. I tried to get the cunt to shut her mouth, shoving a glass of chardonnay in her hand and playing the latest Bright Eyes album through the Naim n-Vi system, a band which I really cannot stand, the lead singers warbling voice upsets me so much, I have to pop a valium to deal with this, but she has mentioned this is her favourite singer so although I am indulging her, I already want to kill her.
She just won't shut up about the damn book and by the time that she has blurted out the ending, I already have a serrated knife in my hand that I had been keeping next to a bowl of Japanese Apple Pears. For some reason, she isn't phased by the knife until I have plunged it into stomach, she looks at me with a mix of shock, angry, betrayal... I'm not entirely sure, she doesn't make a noise until I pull the knife out and plunge it into her again, this time jamming it upwards. I'm careful not to try and hit any major organs, a quick death is too good for this cunt.
For a moment, I toy with the idea of cutting off her tongue and fucking her in the mouth, but I don't want her to choke on her own blood, I can always call an escort agency later if I'm still in the mood for a blow job. Holding the back of her head steady with my hand, I carefully slice the skin around her throat, I don't want to cut open any major veins, then I drop her on the floor and leave her to her gargling.
After wiping my hands clean with a cleansing wipe, I sit down my computer desk, I glance at the book on the table, before I book my flights online. It's costing me 3,526 dollars to fly business class to Glasgow, I have no idea how I'm going to find her once I get there, but I am sure a few dollars waved in the right direction can get me anything. Once I've booked my flights, I flip open the book and begin reading and I don't stop until I finished the fucking thing.
That's where I am now, the book now finished, the hardbody starting to go into death throws, which is a relief as the gurgling sounds she was making were becoming so annoying, I have to pop another valium to stop myself from just hacking her head off before she'd had chance to die, choking on her own blood.
I suppose what it was that really annoyed me about the ending, was how it all worked out so nicely in the end, all the main characters survived, with very little permanent damage to them overall. If I were her, I would have killed him in a much more painful way, then kept him dead, I don't want to start over thinking it, when I corner her in whatever Scottish hovel she's living in, I want my bloodlust to be in full overdrive and I don't want to work my frustrations out by talking about them before hand.
I'm thinking chainsaws, I'm not sure where one purchases a chainsaw in Britain, but they have to have them, I know I can't take my Smith & Wesson 9mm, so it's going to have to some sort of melee weapon which I use to bring about the authors death. I think I would only use a gun if confronted with a situation I had to get out of quickly, I don't imagine her having much in the way of heavy security, it's been too long after the fact for her still to be worrying about crazy fans.
I'm thinking Dove bar, I want to eat a Dove bar, I'm thinking diet Pepsi, I'm thinking about the girl behind the clinique skin care counter, I'm thinking, a blonde hardbody whose tight little ass I can fuck, I'm thinking about my shoes, crocodile loafers by A Testoni, I'm thinking...
Just before she dies, she'll regret not killing Harry Potter...
I've been promising myself I would write something like this for a while, finally got around to it. I realise some of the sentences run on, but that's very much Ellis' style in American Psycho. Weird trying to be in Bateman's head, I think I need to go stroke some kittens or something for a while.