Warning! All Scenes.....Very Graphic and Sexual Content

First school dance of the year.

Princess Paula...leaning on the rail,

She spies her objects of disdain.

She has to have an entourage though...
 

Her long golden locks brushed in a halo,

Frame her cute face with pouty full lips.

Grey-blue eyes shine with anticipation,

They will just love her newest scheme.
 

The first blow to her throat,

Silences the help-scream before it escapes.

Grabbing her by the ankles, I pull her down.

The dark backstairs smash her lips, bumpity, bump.
 

Her hair makes a neat way to hold her up.

While I filet those beautiful thighs, gurgling breaths plead.

That cute button-nose all mashed to one side,

The red drips flowing to join her painted lips.
 

Wiggling seductively, as I light her so very HOT blouse,

Lips form a bloody 'O' as the flaming alcohol chars her breast.

I pluck a crispy nipple to chew, as I watch the last twitches.

The other one is too well done for my taste.
 

Perfect, flawless skin, the mirror doesn't lie...he says to himself.

Dark brooding eyes, fail to see my reflected self,

As I creep behind the creep. The broken glass in his face,

Crunches with that squealing sound, and he pushes back.
 

The ribbons of blood so bright against his tan.

One eye has sparkles still...or maybe silvered glass.

Black hair all spiked....yes....spiked!

The hammer makes a thocking sound as I pound them down.
 

She puffs furiously the ciggie, she has so little time.

Her black nails mirror her taste in lipstick.

The cloud of acid drawn in with the next deep drag,

Makes eyes tear and etches the lining of her throat.
 

Pliers gripping rings in body art, I pull them slowly.

Blood welling forth like a tiny oil-wells around the rips.

She seems excited, the nipple rings stand out! 

Tan cones split, they reveal rouge flesh.
 

Chrome studs turned in to neck, leave thick welts,

When I clamp my fingers around her collar.

Fitting she should wear a collar, her bitchiness well known. 

Screw the homework! Stuffed where she was alone.
 

Who will chaperone the 'Chaperone' ?

His just "a touch of grey" Doesn't impart wisdom.

Fingers that stroked young freckled chests,

Twisted to suit his crime. I shake his hand.
 

Grasping private portions of flesh, squeezing out empathy,

I elicit no sound from his tongue, which I left on the floor.

The packing tape from recent ejection at his last job,

Keep his screams inside. No tenure here!
 

Funny... it seems so small, flaccid even.

I don't know what they saw in it.

Bloody chunk of meat, I hold it before his eyes.

But the light dies before he recognises it, too bad...
 

A changed man, I straighten my costume of invisibilty.

Smiling, the walk to the door is forever.

Passing the cliques, I am not seen.

But they will hear of me now!