Asylum Inmate
Asylum Inmate
December 23, 2009
Today marks the 5th anniversary of my stay here at the Allred Asylum. I have had no fun in this place. I remember when I was out there, and free to do whatever the fuck I wanted to do. I had a hobby that I loved until I got stuck in this god-for-saken stink pit. Sure it was a rough hobby, but a hobby non the less. I killed People for fun, and I didn’t even know the fuckers. Out there I was known, and everyone ran in fear at the sight of me.
People called me “Jack of spades” and that was because I killed my victims with a Shovel. The doctor always asked my “why do you only use a shovel, Jack?” I would always reply “why not use a Shovel.” I loved to mess with the doctors around here, but I should give them credit working in this hell-hole. Being brave enough to talk to a person who can, without any reason whatsoever, can just leap across the table and choke the fucking life out of you. I have never really seen that happen, but it could happen. I would love to do that one day, but that’s only if I had my lucky shovel. I never do anything without my shovel.
Ever since I was a youngster I loved going into the backyard, and dig a few holes, playing Treasure hunter. Those were the good old days, I even remember one day, age 9, I was playing Pirates with some friends, and it was getting late. I walked on home, but the front door was locked. So I used the key under the matt, by the way I think its stupid to leave a key there. So I unlock the door and its pitch black in my house I can see shit. So I yell for my parents, no answer. So I walk upstairs, and as I’m walking I here this loud banging noise.
As I walk upstairs the noise gets louder and louder and louder. I walk down the hall to my parents bedroom, and the sound is so loud now. I open the door and what I saw changed my life. My Father was fucking the corpse of my mother, that sick bastard murdered and fucked, in that order, my mother. I had no idea what he was doing at the time, and the most horrifying part was when he looked at me. He gave me this cold, horrifying stare that haunted till this day. I can’t remember anything after that moment.
The next thing I knew I was in a White room, and I was in so much pain. I realized soon that it was a Hospital room. I was told later on that day I had been beaten and raped by my father. After that is when my beloved hobby kicked in. I was told my father was placed in prison for homicide and rape. So later that night I escaped the hospital, and I was still all bandaged up. I ran home with hate in my eyes, and picked up my lucky shovel.
I knew if I was going to get my revenge that it would be a bad idea to kill him while he was in prison. So for 23 years I waited for him to return home. I was 31 years old when my old man got out of prison. I still remember the eagerness I felt at the time. I stood waiting right behind the front door of my fathers house. When he entered the house I whacked him right in the face. I never gave him time to talk I just kept hitting him and hitting him.
I felt so good to finally see him die. That was when I knew what I wanted to do with my life. That day was when I finally decided to become a serial Killer. I wanted to move to a small town so I can start my new life. I always felt that if you Kill in a small town you’re a Serial Killer, but if you kill in the big city you’re a Mobster. It was hard to figure out who my target victims were. I mean Freddy Kruger went after children, Jason Voorhees went after Teenagers, and Norman Bates went after Attractive women.
So I said “if I can’t pick one, why not all of them”, so from then on I killed all types of people. I killed Children, Women, Men, Teenagers, and even animals. It was like an addiction I could not get enough of it, but I needed a certain weapon. Like Freddy had his Glove, Jason his Machete, and Norman his knife. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, I will use my lucky shovel. It was so obvious that my shovel should be my weapon. I was hungry for blood, and I was no going to wait any longer.
The first victim was so amazing, and easy to kill. Her name was heather and what I did was I tied her limbs to a tree, and removed her skin with the sharpened edges of my shovel. I wanted to leave a symbol that people would fear and remember so I placed a jack of spades in her mouth. Next I wanted to kill a man, but no ordinary man a beefed up man. I knew it would be difficult to kill the fucker. I found a man named Franklin, and he was a closet homosexual. So for a week I stalked him, photographed every gay thing he did.
At the end of that week I snuck into his house, and I caught him in bed with his friend Derek. So the only possible way I thought to kill him was shove my shovel up his ass. I figured he would enjoy to die that way. To make matters worse his family was anti-gay. So I nailed pictures of his homosexual ness all over his body. I had found s small shovel in the garage in the house I was in. I used it to nail Derek to the ceiling and I placed the playing card in his wound.
A few months went by and I had killed 30 or 40 people. I had killed women, children, men, and animals. I left the jack of spades on all of my victims. And I never used any other tool except a shovel to kill all of those people. Everyone knew who I was, but not what I looked like. I hated that the did not know what I looked like. I was an artist, and I felt I should show the people what the face of the great Homicidal Artist looked like.
So I put out flyers for a art show, and by the way I photographed the corpse after I killed them. On October, 31 I held a outside art show, and every single citizen showed up. I stood at that podium and said “ladies and gentlemen, I would like to welcome you to this years 1st annual town art show. My name is Jack and I wanted all of you to view this magnificent art I have made. Now I’m no painter, but I can take a mean picture. So here it is ladies and gentlemen, my art.” Everyone screamed at the top of there lungs.
So yelled at me and called me names. I bowed with a grin and shot several Jack of spades at the crowd with a card shooter. It was my crowning achievement, and I wasn’t going to waste it. I stood there and watched every person scream, yell, and faint. It was the happiest moment of my entire life. A few months went by and the fucking pigs had yet to catch me. It was pretty cool at the time I was featured on the hit television show “Americas Most Wanted”, I had never thought I would get that famous.
On November 12th, 2004 I decided to go for an afternoon stroll. I walked over to the town church were they were holding the funeral for one of my victims. I looked though the windows and saw there were some candles near the coffin. It gave me the idea to blow up the church. So I covered what I could of the church in gasoline and made a trail to the road. I looked over and saw some cops staring at me. I light up a disposable lighter looked at the officers, and I smiled and waved.
Soon after that I threw the lighter on the ground and seconds later BOOM! I walked towards the cop and said “nice day for church”, and I hand him my jack of spades. They started shooting at me, but I didn’t care. I was lucky because not one bullet hit me. The cops started chasing me, but I didn’t run. What they didn’t know was that I had a ton of cherry bombs I had stolen from one of my victims. So with the second lighter I had I lit the cherry bombs and threw them directly at the cop I had handed the card too.
He was unfortunately not killed that day. He was the kind of man who can hold a grudge. His name was Officer Alan Miller, and he was my arch enemy from then on. He spent every day, after I blew his arm off, hunting me down like I was a wild animal. On December 31, 2004 he had reached his goal. I was stalking this really stacked bitch named Constance. She was the definition of beauty, and she knew it.
I would see her around town flaunting her assets. She was going to be my masterpiece, and nothing was going to stand in my way. On the night of December I had snuck to Constance’s house. She had an amazing house, but it was a shitty neighborhood. I was excited to finally get the chance to make my Mona Lisa. I started to climb on the side of her amazing house. I looked in the window, and she bared it all.
I saw everything I felt like a boy discovering women for the first time. Unfortunately I was to distracted to notice Miller was right behind me. She shot my leg and I fell straight to the ground. After that I went to court, and I went for the insanity plea. So the judge had sentenced me to a lifetime in Allred Asylum. I was given this journal to express myself, and tell of my days in this pit. Today’s the day of my escape, and no one is getting in my way. Over the years I had found a way to escape, and I’m going to get out and kill that son of a bitch miller. Plus I will finally get to make my master piece from that hott slut Constance. So whoever finds this journal in my empty padded room, I just want to say this….Fuck You.
The End.
Today marks the 5th anniversary of my stay here at the Allred Asylum. I have had no fun in this place. I remember when I was out there, and free to do whatever the fuck I wanted to do. I had a hobby that I loved until I got stuck in this god-for-saken stink pit. Sure it was a rough hobby, but a hobby non the less. I killed People for fun, and I didn’t even know the fuckers. Out there I was known, and everyone ran in fear at the sight of me.
People called me “Jack of spades” and that was because I killed my victims with a Shovel. The doctor always asked my “why do you only use a shovel, Jack?” I would always reply “why not use a Shovel.” I loved to mess with the doctors around here, but I should give them credit working in this hell-hole. Being brave enough to talk to a person who can, without any reason whatsoever, can just leap across the table and choke the fucking life out of you. I have never really seen that happen, but it could happen. I would love to do that one day, but that’s only if I had my lucky shovel. I never do anything without my shovel.
Ever since I was a youngster I loved going into the backyard, and dig a few holes, playing Treasure hunter. Those were the good old days, I even remember one day, age 9, I was playing Pirates with some friends, and it was getting late. I walked on home, but the front door was locked. So I used the key under the matt, by the way I think its stupid to leave a key there. So I unlock the door and its pitch black in my house I can see shit. So I yell for my parents, no answer. So I walk upstairs, and as I’m walking I here this loud banging noise.
As I walk upstairs the noise gets louder and louder and louder. I walk down the hall to my parents bedroom, and the sound is so loud now. I open the door and what I saw changed my life. My Father was fucking the corpse of my mother, that sick bastard murdered and fucked, in that order, my mother. I had no idea what he was doing at the time, and the most horrifying part was when he looked at me. He gave me this cold, horrifying stare that haunted till this day. I can’t remember anything after that moment.
The next thing I knew I was in a White room, and I was in so much pain. I realized soon that it was a Hospital room. I was told later on that day I had been beaten and raped by my father. After that is when my beloved hobby kicked in. I was told my father was placed in prison for homicide and rape. So later that night I escaped the hospital, and I was still all bandaged up. I ran home with hate in my eyes, and picked up my lucky shovel.
I knew if I was going to get my revenge that it would be a bad idea to kill him while he was in prison. So for 23 years I waited for him to return home. I was 31 years old when my old man got out of prison. I still remember the eagerness I felt at the time. I stood waiting right behind the front door of my fathers house. When he entered the house I whacked him right in the face. I never gave him time to talk I just kept hitting him and hitting him.
I felt so good to finally see him die. That was when I knew what I wanted to do with my life. That day was when I finally decided to become a serial Killer. I wanted to move to a small town so I can start my new life. I always felt that if you Kill in a small town you’re a Serial Killer, but if you kill in the big city you’re a Mobster. It was hard to figure out who my target victims were. I mean Freddy Kruger went after children, Jason Voorhees went after Teenagers, and Norman Bates went after Attractive women.
So I said “if I can’t pick one, why not all of them”, so from then on I killed all types of people. I killed Children, Women, Men, Teenagers, and even animals. It was like an addiction I could not get enough of it, but I needed a certain weapon. Like Freddy had his Glove, Jason his Machete, and Norman his knife. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, I will use my lucky shovel. It was so obvious that my shovel should be my weapon. I was hungry for blood, and I was no going to wait any longer.
The first victim was so amazing, and easy to kill. Her name was heather and what I did was I tied her limbs to a tree, and removed her skin with the sharpened edges of my shovel. I wanted to leave a symbol that people would fear and remember so I placed a jack of spades in her mouth. Next I wanted to kill a man, but no ordinary man a beefed up man. I knew it would be difficult to kill the fucker. I found a man named Franklin, and he was a closet homosexual. So for a week I stalked him, photographed every gay thing he did.
At the end of that week I snuck into his house, and I caught him in bed with his friend Derek. So the only possible way I thought to kill him was shove my shovel up his ass. I figured he would enjoy to die that way. To make matters worse his family was anti-gay. So I nailed pictures of his homosexual ness all over his body. I had found s small shovel in the garage in the house I was in. I used it to nail Derek to the ceiling and I placed the playing card in his wound.
A few months went by and I had killed 30 or 40 people. I had killed women, children, men, and animals. I left the jack of spades on all of my victims. And I never used any other tool except a shovel to kill all of those people. Everyone knew who I was, but not what I looked like. I hated that the did not know what I looked like. I was an artist, and I felt I should show the people what the face of the great Homicidal Artist looked like.
So I put out flyers for a art show, and by the way I photographed the corpse after I killed them. On October, 31 I held a outside art show, and every single citizen showed up. I stood at that podium and said “ladies and gentlemen, I would like to welcome you to this years 1st annual town art show. My name is Jack and I wanted all of you to view this magnificent art I have made. Now I’m no painter, but I can take a mean picture. So here it is ladies and gentlemen, my art.” Everyone screamed at the top of there lungs.
So yelled at me and called me names. I bowed with a grin and shot several Jack of spades at the crowd with a card shooter. It was my crowning achievement, and I wasn’t going to waste it. I stood there and watched every person scream, yell, and faint. It was the happiest moment of my entire life. A few months went by and the fucking pigs had yet to catch me. It was pretty cool at the time I was featured on the hit television show “Americas Most Wanted”, I had never thought I would get that famous.
On November 12th, 2004 I decided to go for an afternoon stroll. I walked over to the town church were they were holding the funeral for one of my victims. I looked though the windows and saw there were some candles near the coffin. It gave me the idea to blow up the church. So I covered what I could of the church in gasoline and made a trail to the road. I looked over and saw some cops staring at me. I light up a disposable lighter looked at the officers, and I smiled and waved.
Soon after that I threw the lighter on the ground and seconds later BOOM! I walked towards the cop and said “nice day for church”, and I hand him my jack of spades. They started shooting at me, but I didn’t care. I was lucky because not one bullet hit me. The cops started chasing me, but I didn’t run. What they didn’t know was that I had a ton of cherry bombs I had stolen from one of my victims. So with the second lighter I had I lit the cherry bombs and threw them directly at the cop I had handed the card too.
He was unfortunately not killed that day. He was the kind of man who can hold a grudge. His name was Officer Alan Miller, and he was my arch enemy from then on. He spent every day, after I blew his arm off, hunting me down like I was a wild animal. On December 31, 2004 he had reached his goal. I was stalking this really stacked bitch named Constance. She was the definition of beauty, and she knew it.
I would see her around town flaunting her assets. She was going to be my masterpiece, and nothing was going to stand in my way. On the night of December I had snuck to Constance’s house. She had an amazing house, but it was a shitty neighborhood. I was excited to finally get the chance to make my Mona Lisa. I started to climb on the side of her amazing house. I looked in the window, and she bared it all.
I saw everything I felt like a boy discovering women for the first time. Unfortunately I was to distracted to notice Miller was right behind me. She shot my leg and I fell straight to the ground. After that I went to court, and I went for the insanity plea. So the judge had sentenced me to a lifetime in Allred Asylum. I was given this journal to express myself, and tell of my days in this pit. Today’s the day of my escape, and no one is getting in my way. Over the years I had found a way to escape, and I’m going to get out and kill that son of a bitch miller. Plus I will finally get to make my master piece from that hott slut Constance. So whoever finds this journal in my empty padded room, I just want to say this….Fuck You.
The End.