I got blood on my pancakes this morning. The waiter brought me a new stack, just like that. He had his white cloth and was wiping away blood and bringing new pancakes and I caught his eye. He knew this wasn’t normal! Why can’t we say so? Why can’t I say, “Excuse me sir, but a new stack of pancakes isn’t going to change my mood. Your kitchen staff is over there using a dustpan to scrape up brains, and I can tell you are uncomfortable about this too, so I just want to say out loud that I think this is all insane.” Ha! Can you imagine that? Looking back I might have just been placing things into his eyes that weren’t there. I’ve seen a so many dozen Ministry of Chaos killings, ten this summer, and never once have I seen anyone bat an eye or itch a nose or give one single tiny embarrassed cough. Why now would I imagine that I saw a real human uneasiness creep like snakes into the eyes of that young chef? It was a cop, this time, and the hour was early, which is strange...but nothing absolutely different in the least really. Oh God those scene frighten me so! I don’t dare tremble of course, and my heart never quickens, but I am frightened, even if it must be hours later when I’m finally alone. This one was more gruesome by ten compared to the last one. The last one was in a park, and the lady was old. This was a healthy young policeman, getting coffee with his partner...lover?, and that black-clad Ministry of Chaos Agent did a kind of half spin...was it almost a dance, like maybe just the very start of some kind of dance you would see on your phone, how the kids do it now...anyway, he did that right before blowing his head off all over the place and getting blood on my pancakes and upsetting me so much...and don’t forget, just maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe upsetting also that lovely young chef! Yes he must have looked at me, and done a little something with his eyes! He must have or I wouldn’t have rush off home, told my man and the rest, even my wife I had to lie to, I told them all I had torn something in my stomach, just so I could run off away from my day and come here to write this. Now you tell me why would I have done such a thing if that beautiful young chef hadn’t made just the smallest—I mean I’m not mad, I don’t mean to say that he winked at me or anything, but I’ll just admit to myself that he did the tiniest quiver, right along the corner of his sweet eye, and this made me look deep into him, and he looked deep into me, and we did something. Something. I tell you something happened! Something in his eye changed the world today. Might it really be strange, this killing? Might others think and feel and believe the things that haunt my mind? How glorious to imagine it...I am shivering, truly. Tonight will be the night. I tell you I will not fail and tonight will be the night. For three years I have practiced, in the dark corner of my thoughts, far away from all, huddled and crouched down like a coward...but that no longer matters, because tonight I will do it. I am going to write a story about a world where the Ministry of Chaos don’t exist. I’ll use this notebook! I’m practically holding the story right now!!! My shivering is frightful. What is this. Treason I guess. It is already done, I’ve done it, and I am done for. I’ve sealed my fate with these words right anyway, so really why wouldn’t I just go ahead and do it, just like I have pictured it. I’m been hold the world in my mind for years, and I am practically holder nag them in these blank pages now, but I will go all the way. I must. I will write the story tonight.
What if I give it to the chef?
