On Tuesdays, she washed her clothes, shopped for a few groceries and other necessities of life, and watched television. This was her life. All of her life.The next day was a Tuesday, and she watched herself with a faint tingle of awareness as she went through the usual motions of living. A trace of rain misted the sidewalks as she walked to the convenience store at the end of her block, and she was distantly grateful for the store's dry warmth. Back at her apartment, she sat down in the overstuffed arm chair in front of her television.The face on the screen talked endlessly about work, and duty, and obedience. Marcella looked at her small color television set, seeing it as though for the first time. There was no tuning knob, and she wondered why she thought that there should be one. Then the words coming from the screen caught her attention once more and the thought was lost.On Wednesday she waited on ninety-seven customers and gained one hundred and seventeen dollars and fifty-five. Strange, I save my future wife from the forced acts of an already known criminal and I'm the one getting fried in the witness chair.Even though I was found not guilty, the whole act proved enough, the system was corrupt, no justice was ever really done, and all the while, rape, murder, pedophilia, incest, slavery, prostitution and lawlessness ran rampant. Within days I knew what my calling was. It took only an hour to erase everything, my birth certificate gone, medical records erased, social security vanished, and all my money withdrawn. I was nobody, and I had work to do.My first kill was an old mother of around 39. She had bragged about the rape and murder of her sons and daughters, the media ate it up, feeding it to the writhing mass of maggots that loved such garbage. She even planned on writing her story down to sell. Well I said no to that. Amazing was the only word for how vain she was as well as how insanely EASY it was to get to her. I played myself well, casually getting.
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