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                         Underground eXperts United

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         [ Bob - The Serial Killer ]           [     By The GNN     ]


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                         "BOB - THE SERIAL KILLER"
                      by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu

                    Dedicated to Cult of the Dead Cow.



  He he he...
  Knife?  No...  too much blood.  Piano wire?  No, no, not this time.  Gun?
Yes!   Gun!   Bob  carefully  opened  his  jacket and pulled out his lovely
automatic  pistol,  which  was loaded with drilled nine millimeter bullets.
He  looked  at  the  dark  street.   A stocky man walked right towards him,
unaware  of  Bobs presence in the shadows.  There was no lamp-posts on this
small  street  which  made it to an excellent place for a kill.  "Yes, yes,
yes, yes...", Bob whispered to himself as the man approached him with heavy
steps.   This was going to be fun.  The moon was full and Bob wondered what
the  papers  would  write  about  him tomorrow.  "The serial killer strikes
again!".   "Midnight terror!".  "Who is the madman on our streets?".  No...
too  ordinary.   Maybe  something  like...   uhm..   "He  kills  for sexual
pleasure!".   Bleurk!  How incredible ridiculous!  Bob wondered if he would
ever get caught, but quickly denied it to himself.  Caught?  He?  No way...
he was too smart for the police men.  By the way, why should they hunt him?
Everybody  likes to  kill.   Ok,  not  everybody kills lonely humans in the
middle  of  the  night.   But some do, and whatthehell was wrong with that?
Yeah,  even  Bob  knew it was not a really sane hobby but anyway...  it was
fun.   He  had  to exercise in some way!  The stocky man had now passed him
with  two  steps  and  Bob  knew  it was time to rock and roll.  He quickly
stepped  out  of  the shadows, raised the gun and pointed it at the head of
the  stocky  man.   The  man  continued walking, still unaware of the Death
behind  him.   Bob  walked  after him with the gun in his hand, smiling and
feeling  how  his  dick came to life.  After a few steps Bob loudly cleared
his  throat.   This  was  the  most fun part.  The man would hear something
behind  him,  turn  around,  see Bob, piss in his pants, pray for mercy etc
etc...   and  then Bob would pull the trigger and feel the magic feeling of
creation!  Wow!
  Yes!  The man turned around!  Bob thought that God was really nice to him
this  night  since  the man was not deaf.  Bob steadied the grip of his gun
and...  and...  now wait a minute!  What the...
  Bob  suddenly  found himself staring into the barrel of a bigger gun than
he  had.  The stocky man had obviously drawn his own gun and now the shitty
piece of metal was pointed at Bob!
  The  stocky  man had a red face and a rather short hair cut.  Bob did not
really  know  what  to  do.  If he pulled the trigger, the stocky man would
probably do that too.  Fortunately, the stocky man probably knew that if he
pulled the trigger, Bob would do that too.
  This was embarrassing!  This had not happened before!  Bob decided to try
out some social engineering.
  -  Cough...  Good evening, sir!  Bob said with a jolly voice.  Nice night
tonight,  eh?   I  see  you  own a...  uhm...  (oh shit) forty-four Magnum!
Nice  weapon!   I  would  like  to have one myself!  They are excellent for
ki...    murd...   hunting!   I  MEAN  PERSONAL  DEFENCE!   Yes!   Defence!
Defence...
  The stocky man looked puzzled.
  -  Good  evening, the man said.  Yes, very nice night tonight!  I see you
are  a serial ki...  ahem...  a man interested in guns yourself!  What kind
of gun is that?  Looks like a Berretta to me...  is it?
  Bob  lowered  his  gun  and  showed  it to the man who leaned forward and
examined it.
  - No, said Bob.  It is a Taurus actually.  Very good quality!
  - Oh!  How nice!
  The stocky man showed Bob his Magnum and explained:
  -  This  one is great!  You do not know what this gun can do to a head...
cough...  I mean a moose!  Moose...
  Suddenly  both of them quickly raised their guns and pointed them at each
other again.
  - Oh sorry!  Bob said.  I thought you were on your way to...
  - Uhm...  sorry!  I also thought that you...
  They  stood  in  the  same  position  for about twenty seconds.  Bob felt
tired.  This was not was he had expected.
  - So...  what do you work with?  Bob asked his new friend.
  The stocky man smiled and said - I am into entertainment business!
  - How fun!  Me too!  Bob replied.  What kind of entertainment?
  -  Well, the stocky man said without lowering his gun, I...  I usually...
well...  I have this gun and...  some nights I walk out and...  you know...
bom bom?
  Bob felt depressed.
  -  Me  too, he said.  Bom bom!  Scream, scream...  Actually you are on my
personal hunting fields now...
  The  stocky  man  placed his Magnum in his shoulder holster.  Bob did the
same.
  -  Oh sorry!  the man said and looked embarrassed.  I did not know!  What
do you call yourself?
  - 'Cool Psycho', Bob said and revealed a slight pride.  Nine killings!
  - Never heard about.
  - What?!
  - Sorry.
  Bob  suddenly  wanted to kill this clown, who insulted him with bullshit.
But he managed to calm down.
  -  Never  heard  of, huh?  They write about me all the time!  Who are you
then?   'Son  of  son of Sam'?  Ha ha.  Or maybe you are 'Killer Clown II'?
That would fit you perfectly!  Magnum...  crap!
  The stocky man shook his head.
  - No, no!  I am 'The ghost of Elvis Presley'.
  - WHAT?  That was the most fucking stupidest name I have ever heard!
  The stocky man, who claimed to be Elvis, was clearly annoyed with Bob.
  -  Oh?   Stupid,  eh?   Then what the fuck is a 'Cool Psycho' then?  Some
rap-artist  that  has  gone  insane or what?  I am so cool, I am so psycho,
yeah, yeah, yeah, the Elvis man rapped.
  - Get off my street!  Bob screamed.
  The stocky man turned around and started to walk away.
  - With pleasure, you amateur!  the man screamed back to Bob.
  Bob  could  feel  the  anger boil inside him.  Amateur?  Him?  Bob?  Cool
Psycho?   Was  nine  killings the work of an amateur?  Jerk!  Fag!  Fucking
lame Magnum-homosexual!
  When  the stocky man had disappeared Bob quickly showed the finger before
he  went back to the shadows.  He mumbled naughty words and said 'fuck you'
to  God  a  couple  of  times before he...  wow...  heard steps again!  Bob
looked  around.  Yes!  Some teenager was going his way.  Bob pulled out his
Taurus  and  got ready for killing.  This time he was not going to make the
same  mistake.  When the kid was two metres in front of him, Bob jumped out
from  the  shadows  and screamed - Yiiieaah!  Get ready to be killed by the
most  motherfucking-ultra-cool-bad-ass  motherfucker  you  have  ever seen!
Cool  Psycho!   Me!   Nine  killings!   You  will  be  the celebrated tenth
killing!
  Bob  pulled  the  trigger.   Nothing  happened.  A vision of his bullets,
placed  on  his table in the kitchen, but not placed in the magazine of the
gun swept through his brain.
  -  FUCK!   FUCKFUCKFUCK!   Bob cried.  THIS WAS THE FUCKING WORST NIGHT I
HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED!
  The teenager just looked at Bob.
  -  WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?!  HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN A WORKING MASS-MURDERER
BEFORE YOU LITTLE PRICK!?
  - No, I actually have not...  the teenager replied with a weak voice.
  - WELL THEN, TAKE A GOOD LOOK!
  Bob fell down on his knees and started to cry.
  - Is that how you work?  the teenager asked.
  - SHUT UP!
  The  teenager  searched  for  something in his pockets.  After a while he
said "Ah!" and brought up a computer diskette.  Bob looked up.
  The teenager showed the diskette to Bob.
  - Cheer up!  Look at this!  This is a diskette...
  - DO YOU THINK I AM BLIND?!
  -  ...   and  it is loaded with great text files from Underground eXperts
United!  Look, you can take it!  You can kill me some other day instead!
  Bob  took  the diskette.  The teenager ran away as fast as he could.  Bob
stood up and examined the diskette, holding it hard with both hands.
  - Underground eXperts United?
  Then he violently threw the diskette in a wall.  Plastic and small pieces
of  metal  fell to the street.  Bob fell to his knees again and screamed in
agony.
  - I DO NOT WANT THAT SHIT!  I WANT CULT OF THE DEAD COW!  UAAAAH!
  Here ends the story about Bob, the most bad-ass-motherfucking-cool serial
killer ever.



 ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
                       Seven megacool years of cDc!
           But this board is uXu's: THE STASH +46-13-READINDEX!
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                       Bing bing bong bong woaaaah!

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 uXu #163              Underground eXperts United 1994              uXu #163
                    Call SOLSBURY HILL -> +1-301-428-8317
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