Some More Of Those Random Thoughts!

I’m watching one of those cheesy horror flicks. Well, not really watching it. I’m working on a prompt, keeping up with my Cafe World, and have the movie on for background noise. I can’t even tell you what the title is. The story line is a handful of college kids “break” into an abandoned building, get drunk, and the next morning they’re locked in. Of course, one by one, they’re disappearing and being tortured. Guess the building wasn’t so abandoned.

So why am I telling you this?

At one point, I hear one of the girls say, “Why are you doing this?”

That started my brain thinking.

Why is it in horror movies, 9 out of 10 times, the victim asks that question? I mean, the insane killer is obviously INSANE! 

Then my brain went on to ask the question: Do you think the killer is going to stop his torture, grab a cup of coffee, maybe offer you a cigarette from his pack as he sits down to explain why he is doing this?

How would that conversation go, I wondered?

Would he share with you the tremendous amounts of insight gathered as victims were tortured and butchered. As the ax slams down on the arm, does the killer ponder, ‘I wonder why I am doing this? Why am I taking such delight in severing this poor girl’s arm? I mean, look, she obviously had a manicure recently. Her nails look nice, outside of the nail polish. Such a shame to chop her arm off.’

Then we have the dramatic pause as the killer looks at his victim, who is whimpering, “Why are you doing this?”

A clash of music as the killer tells her, “Because I don’t like the color of your nail polish, biotch!”

Chop!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, okay, I will make a slight confession.

If I found myself in that predicament, I too, would ask the question. I really would. I would be morbidly fascinated with what would make a person choose this, um, career path.

I would throw out questions asking about childhood, parents, siblings, all those things that might give me an understanding as to why the killer is wanting to do some type of chop suey on my limbs.

I mean, isn’t it only fair that I get to try to understand why you’re about to show off your carving skills on my body?

Let’s take it a step further, shall we. Let’s say my killer is somewhat of a narcissist and offers me a cup of coffee and a cigarette as  he/she shares with me the events which led up to me on the chopping block.

Bottom line?

He would still chop me up.