Word Vomit (Short-Short Stories)

Life In Details: Dexter

Not so much a story, as it is an intriguing observation. 

The first thing he does when he wakes is to swat the mosquito leisurely feasting on his arm. Note the analogy here; He kills a parasite. He kills someone with a thirst for blood.

Next he shaves. The nick of his blade oozes droplets of blood. The tap takes care of that. An alcohol swap sucks up the excess blood. Such patterns. Beautiful. Much like Blood Spatter...His line of work.

His breakfast is so graphic. The precision slicing of pink, tender meat. For a second your heart seizes; is that...no. He isn't a cannibal. Not literally...

The eggs are next to go. Crack. Fork. His movements are methodical. The red marinara sauce serves to confuse us. Adds some much needed...crimson to the shot. 

 Coffee-maker's turn. His fist working the lever crushing up tiny little beans.  

Then the blood orange. How poetic. I haven't seen a deadlier knife being used against a citrus! It's jagged, fork-tipped. Rhythmically cutting through the pulp. When he squeezes the life out of it...when he leaves the mangled carcass aside...you're panting. You have to remind yourself that this is just a fruit. He does worse to--never mind.  

Psychopaths are prodigious about dental care, because flossing comes next. The way the skin around his floss-wrapped fingers turns white with the added pressure of the string. It's not hard to imagine the same pressure against someone's wrists...

The same happens with the bootlaces. We get a too-close shot of white-knuckles straining against gray bootlaces. But for a second, you automatically expect to see a neck that it is wrapped around. 

His face is silhouetted for the briefest of moments, against a white fabric. Just like a face might get mushed up against a plastic wrap. Relax. He's just putting on a shirt. 

The key turns. And he's off. A casually dressed, fairly good-looking dude, you might share an elevator ride with. Or you might let him cut in front of you in a grocery store, so you could check out his ass.

He nods at you, with that barely there half smile, and I dare you to not get the creeps then. 

How perfectly ordinary his morning is! How mundane! But that's the thing isn't it? His nights are the polar opposite...

I never knew killing people could look that good.

Hollywood...What. The. Hell.

Author's Note:

Hmm. Like, I said, Not really a story...but ever since I took an extremely pretentious Media course last semester, I've started paying more attention to details. Hidden nuances in our TV shows, movies, music videos etc. I've been binge watching Dexter this week, and I can't stop thinking about the opening credits! This has got to be the only TV show where I don't fast forward to the episode start...

In case you aren't familiar with the show; it's about a psychopathic Serial Killer, who only kills bad guys. A self-appointed vigilante of sorts, with his own code of principles.

Rule Number 1: Don't get caught....

(Not recommended for under 17 folks!)