The Let's Play Archive

Mixed Up Mother Goose

by Crucified

Part 3

I couldn't hold it in any longer. I threw up all over the Banbury courtyard in horror, disgust, and repulsion at my own vile deeds. I was as bad as Mother Goose. Anyone can make mistakes, I told myself. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and squinted my eyes to try and push the memory of that poor woman out of my head. Everywhere I go, death seems to follow, like some sort of poisoned hurricane.

I needed to feel human again, and not like the dirt I just defiled with my sickening spew.

I was determined to do some good for these people. If I had to flood their market with drugs, I would do something to balance it out.

I could hear yelling from another house. From the outside, it looked decent enough, but from the anger brewing within, I knew that behind the door lay two strung-out drug addicts trying to make ends meet.

It was repulsive. This town was going to Hell one way or another, and it seemed as if there was nothing I could do about it. The pattern on the wallpaper was just terrible. These people obviously had no taste. I hated them just then. I hated them with every fibre of my being. Vertical stripes are so last-year.

Their eyes bulged like balloons filled with gravy, and smoke was thick in the air. They had obviously been smoking reefer, and their ravenous grins were enough to make my blood boil. The way they were looking at me, I knew I had to find them something to eat or else dinner would be on me.

And there was no way I was paying for takeout in this fucked up town.

I backed away slowly, reassuring them as I would two dangerous beasts in over-tightened genital cuffs.

I had to find some food.

I wandered for several hours, looking for anything I could feed to the monsters. Suddenly, beyond a small hill I could hear the distinct sound of hooves, like the beating of a poorly aligned washing machine. I ashed my cigarette, blew smoke from my nose, and ran towards the animal.

Gently, I pet the little lamb until it trusted me. I wrapped a torn strip of my pajamas to its neck and it nuzzled my hand affectionately. I felt at peace again, momentarily, and then I broke both of its legs.

It bleated ceaselessly as I dragged it over the rough ground to the crackhouse where it would be slaughtered and torn to bits by the dirty hands of deadheads. I wish I could say I felt guilty, but I felt nothing. the more people I helped, the more likely it would be that I would find out the information I needed; the more likely I could get home and see Mona's sweet face again.

I threw the lamb at the foot of the table and stood, staring at the two misshapen adults salivating at the very sight of blood.

They pounced on the creature and tore into it with their hands, its pained screams drowned out only by the sickening crunch of bones in their teeth.

God damn the reefer, I thought, these aren't men. These are animals.

Blood dripping down his chin, the thin man began to speak. I had hoped to squeeze some information about my quarry out of him, but all I got was more riddles.

All that remained was fat and gristle, and the slick, bloodsoaked strip of fabric I had wrapped around the little lamb's neck. Thank God it was all alone. Perhaps I had truly helped someone here. Now nobody would have to die; these sick fiends wouldn't kill to satiate their wrongful appetites.

I needed some air.

I started to feel a little better, walking through the downy grass behind the village centre. A puppy yipped to my right, and I pet it gently. This was a new life, I thought, and someone must love him. That thought comforted me; that love could blossom even in such a horrid place.

In the distance, I could see a schoolhouse. Perhaps a teacher would know the goings-on of the community. I breathed in heartily, the sweet air tickling the back of my throat. The heavy weight on my shoulders lifted, slowly, and I held my head high. I would be home in no time. Free to help the unfortunate again. This was just a trial I would overcome.