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Memoirs of a Murderer


RickiMinaj

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Memoirs of a Murderer

 

It didn’t really seem important at first. When I was a child, it was plentiful, for I came from a wealthy family and such, but as I grew up, I started to learn how easily it could fade, and how much I really had of it. Money was not something I came by often, mainly because everything I wanted was either already payed for, or just not worth buying as my parents would love to say. I can’t really blame them for saying that, wanting to save a little extra money. But they could spend all the money in the world, and still have millions left over by supper. That’s how they were, how they worked, how they lived....

 

Sadly, none of it was to me. It would never go to me. Only because to them, I did not exist as much as other things did. I know it may sound cliche to say, but I’m not going to lie, all rich parents where like this. They thought I was less livelier then money. Money is still, it cannot move, it cannot breathe. In reality, it has no more worth than just being a piece of paper. Definitely less worthy than a human life. Well, at least that is what I used to think until my life took the topsy turvey.

 

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night, it wasn’t a card accident, it wasn’t a murder, they weren’t raped or assaulted by a human nor a ghost, and they did not commit suicide. The woman perished from diabetes, and the old man died from lung cancer. He smoked too much. I didn’t like it, but he did it anyway. I told him he would die of it one day, but to him, I was less loud then the weight of money hitting the floor. Our currency, the American Dollar, weighed exactly one gram. It glided to the ground, and didn’t even make the sound of a slide when it hit the ground. I was for sure not louder than it.

 

Well, they both passed, and it was no later then just 4:27 PM central time.”1998 is just wonderful.” It’s a quote I say a lot. I usually use it in a sarcastic tone, because that was the year they died. Though good things did happen in that year, everything did only go down hill there. That’s the year I went from son of a rich to son of a b****.... The dirty year was what I called it. Though I kind of prefer this life style. It may be more of a hassle then actually job working, but it’s definitely more exhilarating. The rush you get, it’s like when your on speed mixed with coffee. Wonderful combination.

 

Jumping back to the topic of 98. They died, and we read their will. Not in a single section was it stated that I was to inherit anything. In fact, it quoted this “As the parents of a genius organization, but not that of a human child, we have nowhere to put this money. So we have come to the secular conclusion as to give it away to the noble ones. Set it aside as the reward for one who shows amazing promise.

 

I was pissed. I did not know if they were testing me, waiting for me to achieve something great and then inherit the money, but I was pissed. I felt like going outside of the Grand Noman Hall where the will reading took place and just yelling to the world. Yelling so loud that I would shatter the sun and send the Earth headed straight for a Supernova. To really tell the truth, I thought “If I could not have that money, why the hell does anyone else deserve it?”. I never really knew how wrong those words were, and I guess I never will, being a homicidal genius and all, but looking back in the past of my actions, I did learn a few other lessons.

 

Lesson number 1. Do not steal from the poor, it makes you feel like a jerk. Steal and kill those who deserve it. Because then, technically you are doing “Some” good. Eliminating this world of it’s evils is not a sin, and that is precisely my job. Taking out the douches that oh so represent my parents. Anything like them, the ones who don’t acknowledge those close to them. They HAVE to go. Those are the sinners who create and mold their children into me. We can’t let that happen. It’s bad for my business.

 

Lesson number 2. Killing is a tedious task. When you murder someone, one hit doesn't cut it anymore... get it? one hit, cut it? Nothing? Oh well. As I was saying, make sure at least 4 stabs are made if you use a knife (one slicing the neck if you can), and with a gun in possession, head shots are a must. If not, you have the risk of being killed, or being ratted out. And trust me, being ratted out sucks. Nothing worse than having to lie your way out of nosey authorities.

 

And Finally, for lesson number 3. Disguises work amazing. Use them. When killing, when walking. Always use them, but never forget who you are. Keep your character on back up and go by someone else. If you ever do want to become a murderer like me, make sure you are good at acting. Remember, if you can lie you can act, all you need to do now, is lie without being caught. Isn’t that really what acting is? You don’t want to overdo it, but still keep them engaged.

 

There’s nothing more I can tell you for now, but come back later, I’ll make sure to keep in touch. Remember, eat fruit, drink milk, get 8 hours of sleep, and if she yells, slap the b**** and show her who’s boss.

 

~Your dear and friendly murderer,

Novin Suants

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Okay concept, and by your ending, I assume you will continue this. The main problem, which I hope you can fix in upcoming additions, is that you need more showing and less telling. I understand that what you're doing involves a lot of telling rather than showing, however it will get pretty boring after a while. There are a few grammar mistakes, but reread a few times and you should be able to find them all.

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