
Well, let's begin... my name is Cletus Kasady and I kill people and I LOVE it. I know nine million ways to kill a body and I love every ONE of them. All dull day every day right up until I hit the hay I think of bodies bodies slit right up the middle and shared across a hundred nice little gardens. And when I sleep I dream of ways to kill a body that ain't nobody thought of yet. And occasionally I dream of mom and pop squirting into that old garbage disposal and just grinding and gnawing on the old man's skull.
Talking of DAYS that bloody sainted DAY that HOLY day I'll tell you about me OH yeah... That day I shared a cell with VENOM. That reporter geek all wrapped up in SPACE ALIEN SYMBIOTE KILL THING linked into his head. I got a wound on my hand and I was PLAYING with it and all. And Venom DRIPPED in it. SPAWNED in it and its sharp, sharp egg GREW in me and HATCHED and made me CARNAGE.
You're probably asking... WHY do I kill... well, simple answer. It's PRETTY. Waking up in the morning and knowing you're going to kill someone... it's a BEAUTIFUL THING. Makes me feel like a GUNSHIP, like my engine's only turning over when I'm MOVING and KILLING. Makes me feel like God on the first monday morning.
I kill because it makes me feel like I'm on TV, with my own personal SOUNDTRACK. Like JFK, brains on the leather and pretty blood on his pretty wife. JFK. NBK. KKK. And his pretty WIFE, now think of it, all wet and humiliated, CRAWLING infront of the whole WORLD. I like THAT, too. When I was a kid, my favorite movies was the Zapruder Film.
I ain't INSPIRED by the media. I INSPIRE the media. I got VIDEOGAMES and TOYS and COMIC BOOKS just because I can KILL a body better than ANYONE. You wouldn't BELIEVE the hundreds of different ways a body DANCES once a BULLET'S been put in it. The SONGS they sing when you cut their throats. The PATTERNS they paint when you make 'em SQUIRT. It's ART. I kill because it's pretty. It's ART.
It's a DULL old world on the surface, ain't it? All grey and nondescript... but THAT'S a LIE. SCRATCH the surface and you reveal the REAL world, all RED and RAW and SENSELESS. And THAT'S the world I LIKE, the WORLD I SHOW you when I kill. The world I AM. I AM that man, eating human sandwiches at the bus stop... making Jefferey Dahmer eyes at the nice young boys, John Wayne Gacy hands a'twitching...
I AM those kids burning dogs and hobos in the dark alleyway. The woman cutting a hole in the tied-to-bed Mr. Goodbar and inserting a vacuum cleaner tube in his stomach. The wife shoving broken glass down the husbands throat. I'm the American flag on fire, the Founding Fathers crucified for a chat show, lies, cursed lies and government. I'm the end of the world as we know it and I feel like a DRINK.
I'm CHAOS. CHAOS and the rest of the world won't ADMIT that it's JUST LIKE ME. And because o' THAT the world is WORTHLESS, it's dirt on my HEEL. Love means NOTHING. It's a planet of mannequins filled with blood and they may as well be torn up and burst and stamped on because what ELSE are they good for? Apart from making noise and being NICE and making MORE stupid little mannequins that sit still for lies and TV and kissy-kissy GARBAGE!
I've told you about the WORST THINGS IN THE WORLD, because THAT'S what the world's made of. EVERYTHING is SICK! Am I getting THROUGH to you? EVERYTHING is SICK and I LOVE IT!!
You see... I'm not mad. CHAOS isn't mad. I've SHOWN you the REAL WORLD. Shown you CHAOS. And hopefully you went sane. But killing chaos... you can't kill CHAOS. And you can't keep it locked up for long.
YAWN.........
NEXT.........
I read the whole thing.

Quit being so autistic and you'll fit in.