It seemed the curtains closed themselves
and the door was deadlocked by no-one.
Mr Knox was puzzled by the wiry teenagers defiant swagger.
“You mistook me for a victim but I am your destroyer.
You better hope you’ve got a good lawyer in the foyer.
There’s no point expecting support from your employer.”

“Jones, your homework was to compose a romantic sonnet.”
“Around you, I can’t vote to venture closer to The Love Boat
than every time you gloat, traces of vomit find my throat!”

“Detention can be upgraded to expulsion” Knox snarled.

“Mister Knox, last night all I did was rehearse
your unauthorized biography in rhyming verse.
He was a scorpion living in a baby’s throat.
His colleagues denial left him free to gloat.
For wishing a demon wore a ball and chain
I’m a tumor peeled from their feverish brain,
the devil incarnate, a stain upon their soul,
the barnacle Himalayas on their ship’s hull.
If convicted he would have feigned insanity.
Even Adolf had more respect for humanity.
Allow me to be a little less circumspect.
I’m struggling to accept bacteria so adept
was wasted on him once the worms crept.
Unlike his culled captives he felt no pain.
The vigilante was clinical with chloroform
and a point blank range bullet to the brain.”

Knox’s bowels loosened
as the cold metal barrel of a pistol
was pressed against his temple.

“Sir, it’s time to confess in three hundred words or less.
Forget hints of duress and handwriting disguise chess.
The crimes and victims names, no obfuscating games.”

“That’s an A + sir”
Jones laughed hysterically as he cleaned the windows
with the most lethal looking water pistol in existence.
The pseudo weapon went missing
like a passenger overboard in shark infested waters.

The inspiration for Knox,
spotted his twentieth century victims in the audience.
Their professions ranged from stand over men,
to detectives, to prosecution lawyers.
Even the florist looked as intense as a paratrooper
about to leap into enemy territory.
Empty seats represented the suicide victims.



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