You Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter

Today is Thursday. I get out tomorrow. My trial is tomorrow. Whoever this judge is will be deciding my future. It's kind of scary. I'm sitting here on my cot, brushing my hair with my fingers. My fingernails are really kind of disgusting and my hair is limp. Not styled and no make up. I skipped on the shower this morning and yesterday morning because Taylor told me at the rec yard yesterday that he saw some guy jacking off in the shower. And the worst part is that he got a little turned on. I do not want to see anything or like anything. I'll shower tomorrow, because I hate being dirty. I already feel sweaty and my hair felt greasy and my underarms smelled like BO. Ew.

"Morgan, Dr. Stern is here to...visit... you." the guard said, knocking on the door. I sighed and followed the guard to the conference room. And there he was, drumming his fingers on the table. He rummaged through his briefcase and found a file marked Morgan, Jacob T. He pulled out a pen and placed it on top of the folder. He looked at me, scanned me with his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak.

"So... Mr. Morgan, your record states that you were responsible for three deaths at DanBrook's High on May 9th," he said slowly, pushing his glasses further up his nose. Everything about him screamed shrink . From his dark brown bowl-cut hairstyle to his round burgandy glasses to his green casmere sweater, you could tell he didn't have much of a life outside the office.

"That's right. If you want the black and white version," I said, challenging him with my eyes. He was staring me down, analyzing my looks, my voice, the way I moved my hands. He was taking minor notes in a little notebook from my file.

"Okay, then. Fill in the gray areas for me," he said, looking down on the pad.

"I've told this story so many times it's like a monologue," I sighed, "My friend Shaun is.. sorry... was ... gay and the homophobic jocks gay-bashed him regularly to the point where he died in a coma. And I took out revenge on them by killing the ring leader of them all. And a couple easy targets. If they were gonna make us pay, why can't I do it, too?" I said, hesitating a bit. I gave him the short version. He ran a finger over his chin, contemplating my words. He made a few notes in the pad and said, "But, Jacob, if it was Shaun's battle, why would you try to get involved?"

"I would get picked on, too. I was hit in the locker room. When Shaun was bashed to a bloody pulp, I got a concussion for trying to help him. I was known as his boyfriend," I said.

"And were you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No." I said sternly. He asked me to continue in detail what the relationship between us was, but I denied.

"He was my best friend. That's it." I said, shrugging my shoulders. I ran a hand through my hair, sneering at how greasy it was. I looked back over at the shrink. He was just starinf at me, trying to diagnose me; looking for something wrong with me. I've done that, too. But, I don't name it. My sickness is my own, not something I can deal with in group therapy.

"So, you aren't a homosexual?" he said, raising his eyebrow again. He crossed his leg and looked at me intently.

"Well, I don't know. I don't label myself. Why do you?" I said, mockingly raising an eyebrow.

"To help you if you need any help emotionally, mental, psychologically, the basics. You're out of this Juvinielle Detention Hall tomorrow for your trial. I have to report if you're fit to go back home or if you need some," he trailed off, musing for the word, " additional attention."

"So you need to know that I'm gay? Okay, then. I liked Shaun. Doesn't mean I'm gay. Never dated him. Never fucked him. I made out with him, though. Mmm, did he taste good. He was so firm and tender at the same time. Really knew how to use his tongue. Is that detailed enough information for you?" I snapped. Dr. Stern wrote down something and looking up at me, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I just wanted to know the relationship between you and this... Shaun. It could tell me a lot about the reason you acted so violently towards those jocks." he said.

"I acted so violently because they killed my best friend. I don't have anyone to talk to, to rant to, or to fool around with; no pun intended. When I lost him, I couldn't handle my emotions. I would rather kill myself than go through that again. It would be so much easier to just end it now and not have to deal with this anymore. And if I got my best friend taken away from me, I took Blaine's best friend away from him. It's a lose-lose situation, but at least it's not a win-lose situation." I said, trying to sound as formal and educated as him. I hate people who do that; talk like they're the king of the fucking world. Because they usually think that the rest of us are just inferior lame-o's.

"You could have handled it differently," he said.

"I wouldn't have handled it any differently. I would go back there. I would shoot Blaine. And the rest of the football team. And the principal. They're all homophobes who deserve to get a bullet shot up their asses." I said smiling.

"Murder is a serious thing and I am slightly concerned that you don't seem to care," Dr. Stern said.

"Because I know I got my revenge. And it comes at a price." I said. I sounded so fancy, in my opinion. I was showing him up. You could tell how he figets with his glasses that he's intimidated, not sure what to think. I pushed my hair behind my ear, exposing my bloodshot eyes and dirty tear stains on my cheeks.

"Well, if you could go back and re-live it again, would you change anything?" the shrink asked, his glasses slipping to the end of his nose.

"No." I said, sitting back, "Are we done here?"

"Yeah, I got enough information to make a good desicion. It'll be hard work, deciding what to do, Jacob. Oh, I have one more question. If you were to go home, with parent supervision, would you try to handle these emotions differently. As in getting extra help and self-help?" he said, putting the pad back in the file. I knew the second he said that sentence what he would be deciding to do. I lost, I wouldn't be able to go home. So, if I know my fate, why not have fun before it enslaves me?

"Sure. I could visit your office and talk about my feelings. It's right on the way to DanBrook's. Afterwards, I can visit my friends who put me in this mess." I said, smiling sadistically. His eyes bugged out of his fat little head as he picked up all his stuff, crammed it into his briefcase, and headed out of the room.

"Morgan, you're one fucked up kid, you know that?" the guard said as he took me back to my cell.

"I know, why do you think I got here with you?" I said winking.

And I get to leave tomorrow. Spending the next chapter of it in the crazy house with people who see imaginary things, can't sit still for more than six seconds, and talk to themselves as if they were two people. And I get to be part of that fucked up family.

Because I'm crazy.