WARNING! THE FOLLOWING STORY IS EXTREME IN NATURE, READERS UNDER 18 PLEASE TURN BACK. ANY LIKENESS TO EVENT OR INDIVIDUAL IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL. PLEASE DO NOT FORGET THAT THIS IS PURE FICTION

Dark alleys, never good custodians! I find myself walking over the scattering rats and fast food marketing long discarded here. Not so sure I will find what I am braving to search for in this filth, but then mommy never raised me that well.

As Samantha (a friend) used to tell me..full moons are a sure sign of bad weather approaching, but I never listened well..an inheritance gift from daddy dearest.

Earlier today I perused long trigger finger steady tables of fly infested snack food, searching for treats of my heightened intellectual standards at what should have been my grandfather’s passing ceremony. It ended up being more of a romantic piñata bashing of sorts. Uncles with gleaming teeth in the summer sun, rubbing their hands together not unlike the flies at the festivities approaching. “And to dear trusting Robert I leave”…

Guaranteed human tragedy statistics suggest all my readers will be able to understand the preceding illustration.

But I digress. Return back to the story for the evening before they all lose interest. Right!

After this funeral celebration I took a long walk. I passed between the gravestones with names warped by the heat, I watched as flowers long dead passed tears of sweat in remorseless mourning for the dead long gone..the dead here not being the corpses no longer possessed by souls in the earth. What a futile gesture…allow me to illustrate once more below.

A mourner enters the grave yard. She (ratings suggest your sympathies lie easier with women) has brought with her today, some stargazer lilies to commemorate the passing of her father. This tragic passing inflicted upon her she unknowingly re-enacts by placing her flowers into a vase..just inches from the soft and well nourished soil..the soil and currently her father.

Humanity racked with grief racks my sensibilities at their mundane yet ultimately negative effects on ours and God’s green earth. I am Jesus if only for this moment.

So not so swiftly with this in mind I now return to tonight. To recap..in an alley alone, dirty, full of rats and rubbish..looking for something nice.

Alleys not unlike myself emit an irrepressible odor..like the smell of regenerating skin around two week old stitches. I mention this smell in today’s proceedings only to point out that it is a mysterious smell..one that draws us nearer for some reason to the animal inside.

What does the human body not instinctively indentify with if only purely on a biological level other than rot.

I fear you may not like me much, but this document before you ensures that you listen still. Please read on, if not for the sick pleasure of gazing down on someone less worthy or less relevant to your precious self..then the pleasure of at least gathering closure on a wound now torn open just enough for it to unendingly itch.

I walk down this alley of no particular selection, with its friendship smell and decorations of decay looking for a friend tonight. Someone to have and to hold in sickness but not in death unless my wallet strongly suggests otherwise.

Your eyes grow tired of the letters jumping before you..letters that play a song of uncommon chord..mixing emotions as effectively as oil and water on a parquet floor. But I urge you please read on..I have something so vital to dispense in this confession of mine.

Perhaps a flashback montage is necessary at this point to ease the pain of a less tolerant t.v. generation..yes that means you!

In my gift to you..a commercial masterpiece no doubt worth awards you witness before you the miracle of my birth. On august 4^th 1969 at the hands of my mother who has died. Her death caused by 16hours of relentless pushing and pulling..an exorcism of a life, fighting to remain unborn. Red lights flash..the painful absence of a celebratory cigar and its tasty smoky legs and congrats on your bouncing baby cards. Fear not reader.. for my sins the doctors hit me more than once in places I hesitate to mention at this time. I breathe on and on and on.

Our savant guard montage takes us next to my picture perfect pubescent phase..at age 13with no pubic hair not on leg and not on washboard chest, at age 16with no first kiss but.. hear! hear! no fear..at age 17I kissed a boy, I know its not supposed to be my style. Yet do not fear I certainly felt vile..I looked him over with a smile which dulled down as I fucked him for a while. Enter transition 9 semen and blood mix like yogurt and red red wine.

Please dear reader..please press on…

At age 19my daddy said to me that he wanted us to be closer, yes my dear friend it even sounded funny to me! No baseball glove or pats of love but Pink curtains closed on a little doll’s house, revolving doors for legs..once serene and clean now neglected and unseen.

Please do not think of me as a product of my makers whom considered themselves as great as kings but rather a puppet with weakened strings dancing to the hands of a man not worthy of wings.

I will stop here before you leave..dear reader, oh dear reader..ignore those signals of warning and please please honour my memory and read on. The prize is surely at the end.

Back to the alley! To re-cap an alley worthy of a crime scene one that will never be without tragedy of the finest draughtman’s seams.

To seal the deal of your affection I step on the rats with much pretention, I play god lower case g for garbage, garbage so keen to remain unclean..judge me not by the hand of my maker but that of woman kind, a precedent undeserving of wings! I leave them twitching to dance in the shadows for my amusement as I skip along my rocky road playground.

Fee fie fo fum at age 30 I swallowed another man’s cum. Directly after I dined with his ‘mum. Please dear reader I ask small favor if you ignore the grinding of teeth and READ ON! READ ON!

I’ll sweeten the deal by guaranteeing I take no pleasure in the confessions I yield..and as I give this gift I see a green light with split heart logo one with the exact properties I’ve been seeking this ‘eve.

My financier has asked that I remember to mention at this point the following:

I have amateur pornstar killer in my top five films

I listen to black metal gods who scream like queens

I’m 39years old and still have no gills, but the raw fish in sushi gives me a thrill

I seek no partner and have no friends, I kill my time by avoiding trends

I hope to grow old getting blood clots in my personal hospital bed

As I watch the one family member that still loves me cry over my death

I make a deal with the devil to drop a piano over their head

I am no sociopath; my emotions cause me endless pain and dread

I am a coward and should therefore be looked down upon I SAID

Have no mercy or remorse for me..atleast none less fitting that you hold for hitler, Eli Roth, Crowley or right said fred

I want none I have none I..please reader read on! Eat on!

I knock on the door in the rhythm of Bach’s symphony four missing one or two chords.

It opens, my lips utter ”..oh the heavy hand a woman holds over a man”. The figure swaying inside the door frame knows I am someone of fame. Did I forget to mention I am Bertha the S&M Queen.

Now that you know my name, occupation and inclination you may ask yourself or playfully wonder how someone of my elegant nature turns an act of intimacy and love into an act of rubber latex, laxatives and rugs. Quite obviously other than my father and his hugs ehem! Molestation. The guilt of killing my mother and never being able to find a true bubble gum pop, awesome love you forever and ever kinda lover.

Let us then for a sound explanation return to 5years prior to my current location. It was a day like any other..the only thing more significant than its mediocrity was the hulking weight of yours truly heading down the sunny sidewalks of a sub-urban hub. Bertha the big they used to call me when I walked down the streets holding back tears with a force like no other.

In this little village of ours we had all the regulars

Frat guys and girls, the geeks, nerds, asburger geniuses and sexy blond birds, 2 and a half kid moms and dads, pastors, church goers and many other herds. Alcoholics and junkies, television anchors, motion picture directors, actors and entrepreneurs and skirts. We had our butchers and bakers and candlestick makers, pornstars, burger flippers and work at home maids. The list never ends how much more evidence do I need to bring..it was a regular town with regular joes..the kind who do not stand up to anyone who had a club, knife, gun or brass knuckle chromed.

Dear reader I beg you read on..read on..with tears down my eyes. This story needs to go on.

Janey’s got a gun Janey’s got a gun..seventeen minutes later in the hot burning sun..some gentlemen get ready for some fun.

I walked down the sidewalks crushing the cement tiles as they bowed and weeped..I was innocent then and not sure what to think.

You may be wondering why I bore you with this tale..of what seems like small talk as you pass a friend you know. But do not falter your commitment to me, sweet reader I will soon reveal its relevancy.

Their names..the men, were Bo Hatchett, Mark Antonias and Kevin Brand and curse those fuckers and their adrenal glands.

My mother always thought it was my music that caused me to feel so much rage..oh wait! She died when I had my first day.

Lets get back to the day of my second birth..the one where this current creature was made.

A crime like every act seemingly unkind violent and unnecessary needs more than three ingredients but to simplify they beg to be mentioned :

Motive, evidence of action, a court room re-enactment for crowd satisfaction.

I walked down this road a hulking sweaty anti-beauty pageant campaign. I cannot still..still cannot remember where I was going that day. Maybe the walk was just a reminder that my legs could still carry my weight..but a walk is how this event became.

The reader’s mind I must now enter as I scream at the writer: “stop with all these deviations from the main plot and get to the juicy centre..is this the truth, did it happen to you or to the character and in what measure..tell us your secrets or sweeten your lies..we just need the words to make up our minds!”

Very well..I will divulge what happened this day in December. Motive for this crime was pure sexual retention which turned into repressed physical aggression. Evidence of action..well that would be me silly what kind of common man are we manufacturing?! And now ladies and gentlemen without further to do the final performance of my courtroom attraction:

The victim one Bertha S. Bernard was walking on December 13^th 2003 in the vicinity of guilty and understatement roads in the suburban cluster named preservation. As she walked by residence number 17 of Understatement road she was called by one Mark Antonias. Let the court acknowledge now Mark Antonias’s presence in the court on your left.

Mark Antonias a resident family man and a self employed plumber called Miss Bernard towards number 17 Understatement road to offer her a drink and some shade outside of the hot summer sun. Let the record show that Miss Bernard obliged Mr. Antonias as she trusted his intention which was not at this point in time anything other than a friendly gesture from a local neighbor.

Mr. Antonias opened the door to number 17 Understatement road and allowed Miss Bernard to enter the residence….

Thank you my trusted defender but do shut up and let’s hear this from my point of perspective for a second…

I walked into the house with Mr. Antonias behind me..I was thinking at this moment “please god let me fit through this door, I would so like some friends” luckily I had no trouble getting into a surprisingly large front door frame. I notice sawdust at the foot of the frame covered by black plastic. I paid it no attention as I was certain this was some routine maintenance on the house.

I feel a slight prick on my skin..Surprising as I do not feel much pain. FYI the skin of a blue whale can reach a thickness of about 40cm.

I fall over and before I black out I notice two other figures standing in a room covered in the same black plastic at the door..with one or two flood lights glaring pure hot white in the directions they face.

The men force their……and let me feel…..nobody has ever….it keeps rubbing…sting….careful not to rip….and bruises form instantly around…easier and easier…resistance to no…cleaver in a hot fire….black out again….I am no longer who I think I am….one cut..second cut..I have lost my faith in…..and that’s when they find me.

Naked, cold and scared. I attacked the paramedics..one ending up in critical condition. The three men were nowhere to be found..the house no longer had black plastic covering what looked thereafter like a wonderful place to create many happy memories.

Back to my trusted defender for his final statement:

As you can hear from the confession of the victim a gross crime has been committed here. The physical evidence cannot be ignored.

Thank you sir!

The three men received death by lethal injection. If only I had suffered the same fate. I apologise to the reader if I do not sound like myself anymore..its just…that…I..never mind.

My financier says to get back to the dark alley…but just before I go I must reassure you..I am a product of societies action.

A quick re-cap then: dark alleys are bad custodians. I learnt that as I became who I am now. The rats up the road are dead. Let’s not forget who I am..my own dog growls at me.

The figure in front of me welcomes me in..i enter familiar with this place.