Doctor David

I have an appointment tonight. Things need to be done. Things need to be sold, paid off. I lick my lips and walk over to my ‘kitchen’ and wash off my blade. The smell of blood seeps into my clothes and nose. I dry it with a white cloth and take off all of my ‘infected’ clothes. I walk out of my infirmary, into my ventilation system and take a brisk shower. Scrubbing everything with dish soap, and making sure to get every inch of my body cleansed. I dry off, and put on new clothing.

I go upstairs and make some dinner. A nice ham sandwich with lettuce and tomato. A side of potato chips, and a sliced pickle. The chips salty and pickle with a nice crisp sound to it. The juice runs down me lip and onto my plate. I take a napkin and wipe it off. I take a bite of my sandwich and it hits oh so perfectly.

I finish with my dinner and set the plate in the silver sink. I go to my refrigerator and get a glass of filtered water. Water is the healthiest drink you can consume. Or so they say. I finish with my drink and put the cup next to the sink.

I walk over to my record player, and listen to some beethoven. I grab my brown, leather case, and sit at my dinner table once more. I unlock it, and set my thin, 22 x 22 laptop, and open it. It turns blue from black, and asks for a login key. I type it in, and it asks for facial recognition. I happily smile for him, and he allows me access to my files. I open my secure chat log and it incripts my access. I can finally chat after a few seconds of green words running over my screen.

“Hello” I type into my messenger. “Are you well equipped for tonight?” I ask the person on the other side of the screen. “Always straight to business aren’t you my mysterious friend?” they send in response. “Of course, we are not here for loli-gagging now are we?” I quickly type back. This person must be young. They like to conversate. They’re nervous. Must be new to this. “Haha” They send back. “Quit wasting my time and lets get to it. When and where?” I type back in frustration. He types back “Of course, sorry, let’s meet under the broken bridge in an hour.” That place is ridden with broken crap. I close my computer and stuff it in my secret compartment in my closet, above the coat hangers. I close the closet door and walk over to my front door. I slip out of my slippers, and put on my leather loafers. I pull my socks up and pull my pant legs down, and then folding them upward. Making them look neat. I stand in front of my mirror and fix my tie. I adjust my thin, silver glasses and white collar. I run my hands through my non-existent hair, and give myself a grin.

The place I am going has cars and corpses littered just about anywhere you look. Police don’t know about this spot. It has eluded them for decades. They have no clue just how deep they have to go. I chuckle to myself. The thought of police chasing their tails like dogs is comforting to me.

I open my front door and breath in the fresh, dark air. The moon lighting up my porch. I close the door behind me and lock it. I walk over to my Lincoln Continental 4 door sedan V8 1968 Vintage, a classic, and open up my door, step in, and turn the key. Its roars on and we set out for my appointment.

I drive for a few minutes. Time passes like its nothing. I get to my desired location early, and get out of my car. I open up the back, and get my tools. I open up another case, put on a surgical mask. I open up my bottle of GHB (chemicals that will make you pass out for hours). I get my white rag and wet it with the chemicals. I return to my tool box and close it. I close my car door gently and walk through bushes and tall grass to get to the meeting place. I sit behind a bush and get comfortable.

After 10 minutes of patiently waiting, a short man, with a casual outfit and a cleanly shaven face appears. He dresses to impress, and he knows what he is doing is wrong. He tries to use an innocent look so if he is questioned by the police, they will see him as a non-threatening suspect. Too bad, he won’t fool me. He stands in front of me now, his legs and arm hair showing. He’s a pervert. He believes me to be bringing a child for his.. Activities.

I get onto my knees, and stand up as quietly as possible. I sneak behind him, and get to where I could pull his pant legs down. I stand up, and reach over his shoulder, to his mouth with my white, chemically induced rag. I cover his mouth and he starts to panic. I kick behind his knee, and he kneels to the ground. Still struggling, I hold tighter, and after a few seconds, he falls to the ground.

I put the rag in a bag I had in my back pocket. Folding it in fours, I push it back down. I bend down to his feet and pick up his legs. I begin to pull, he’s heavier than he looks. I pull him past a few bushes, and get to my car. I pick him up like a child, and toss him in the trunk. I slam the door and get in the driver’s seat. I turn him on, my headlights beam forward, revealing a broken down car.

I put the car into reverse, and look at my rearview mirror, and adjust it. I push on the accelerator pedal, and go backwards. I pull my stick and get into driving forward mode. We pull out of the site, and I pass houses, lit up for the moths.

I continue forward, and pull into my driveway. It’s midnight, so nobody will be awake to witness anything. A couple teenagers do live on the block, so I should be alert at all times. I turn him off and get out of my car. Closing the door gently, I walk over to my trunk, and unlock it. Opening it, a hand falls out, fat bastard.

I pull on him and he moves forward slightly. I take hold of both arms, and pull harder. He falls out, making a groan when he hits the ground. I pick him up, and carry him into my house. I drop him, and he makes a loud ‘boom’. I close my front door and lock both locks. I turn back to the fat man on my floor, and drag him down stairs, every time his head hit the stairs it makes a ‘thump’ sound. “Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump”. “Yeah we get it, you’re a fat fuck.”

I drag him behind me with one hand to my operating table. I look over him. No bruises, no obvious signs of illness. No skin conditions, other than a sunburn. He probably works outside. I reach over to my scissors, and cut all of his clothing off. Once he’s undressed, I pull his shoes, and socks off. I throw the clothing into the incinerator. I’ll burn them after the deorganing surgery. I walk over to a shelf, open it and grab a thick, clear sheet, and lay it down on the table next to him. I lift him with all my might, and put him on the cold steel table. His arms and feet droop off the edges. I walk around the table, fixing them. Now to clean the body.

I go to my sink and reach over for a bucket, and fill it with water. Next, I grab a sponge and body wash that I ‘borrowed’ from his bathroom. I put on some white, latex gloves, a new surgical mask, and an apron. I walk over with my bucket, sponge, and soap, and plant it on a cart next to him. I grab the sponge and soap, and begin to scrub him, starting with his feet.

I scrub in circles, the soap gripping to his feet. Once I finish with them, I begin up his calves, and then his knees. Circles and circles I make with my sponge. I get to his stomach, and then his right arm. I scrub, and skin toned makeup comes off, revealing a black tattoo, a skull holding its middle finger up, with a golden ring around it. Damn. I can’t sell this piece. Oh well, I can sell the other parts of him.

I finish scrubbing him. I set the bucket, soap and sponge aside, and bring over some other tools. I grab an ice cream scoop, and put it above his eyes. I aim the scoop at the top of the eye, and put it behind the top of his eye. I cup the eye, and pull it out. The red strands of meat follows it to a jar I have ready, with preserving liquid. I put it in, lightly, trying not to damage anything, and I return to his face, repeating the procedure. The two, brown eyes bounce next to each other, and I cover the jar with a lid. I put the jar in a cooler, to keep it cool.

I return to the body, with a long, hunter like knife, and begin to skin his body from his neck. I pick up the skin, and hold it while my knife glides down his skin. I stop. I place my knife down, and put my hands on his neck. I place two fingers on the side, and try to feel for a heart beat. My finger feels a bump, I push harder to make sure I’m correct. Another heart beat. He’s still alive. I whip around and pick up some clear plastic, and begin to wrap his head down to the table. If he wakes up during the procedure, he won’t be able to move. I wrap him more than 30 times. I put the wrap down, and pick up my knife, now covered in blood. I wipe it off, and continue to rid him of skin.

I peel, and peel. The blood gushing onto his body. I cut even more downwards, and all of his skin from his chest and stomach off of his body, revealing his ribs, organs and intestines. I put down my knife, and get a large, clear bag. I pull over a cart and set the bag on it, its opening pointing upwards. I turn back over to the body and stare at it. His heart still beating. His lungs inhaling air, still, with blood blanketing it. I move downward slightly, and begin to carefully pull his intestines, I pull it to where I have to either yank it out, or cut it off. I cut it, and he begins to move. I look over to his head, and his mouth opens, and screams. He screams and screams. He moves his arms and legs up and down, his whole body shaking. I take a step back, with my knife in the air, pointing to the ceiling. He continues to scream, and after a moment, his arms and legs fall weak. He reaches to his mouth, trying to rip the plastic wrap. He didn’t feel it before because of the pain of his skin being absent. Thankfully the room is too cold to allow bacteria into his valuable organs.

He stops screaming, and his entire body falls limp. I continue forth with my excursion. I pull out his intestines, and set them in the clear bag. I turn back over to his body and begin to take out his colon. Then I proceed to take everything out of his stomach, and put it in the clear bag next to me.

Once I finish filling the bag with the rest of his bloody insides, I look over the ribs. No damage, thankfully. I take my left hand, and reach into and pull out his pull out his stomach, placing it in the clear bag of intestines. I tie up the bag and place it in a different cooler.

Now that I am finished with the low grade organs, I must get the more ‘prized’ organs. I reach in, and get a kidney in my hand. I pull it gently downward, and place it in a small clear bag. I return to the body and do the procedure once more. I place it next to the other kidney, and tie the bag. Picking up the bag and putting it into the cooler next to the eyes, I feel something in my stomach. I must not have eaten enough at dinner.

I ignore my body, and begin to focus on his. I reach in and tug on his lungs, they fall out like nothing. I put them into a bag and tie the bag shut. Then I place it in the cooler next to the other ‘items’.

Now for the heart. I reach in once more, and pull on it. I take my right hand that’s holding a scalpel and slice the veins carefully. It releases, and the heart falls onto my hand. I carry it to another clear bag and place it as gently as possible.

Ah I’m finished with this part, good. I walk over to my sink, peel of my white and bloody latex gloves, and drop them into the incinerator. I take off my apron lab coat, with surgical mask and place them into the incinerator as well. I scrub my hands clean and walk over to my organ filled cooler. I close the top and walk over to my staircase. I look at the thermostat and turn it down to 20 degrees FH.

I pick the cooler up and take it up the wooden stairs. I get to the top, set it down, close and lock the door behind me. Picking up the cooler, I then walk to my front door. Opening it and closing it behind me, then I lock it with my keys that I picked up from the hook next to the door. I then walk to my car, get in and place the cooler in the passenger seat.

The car roars on and we set out for a meeting place.