Why Chuckie? I Didn’t Even See That Movie!

I have a second younger brother. He is human to be sure, but he is suspended perpetually by strings like a puppet. Short, fat and red-haired, he paints his face with garish red lipstick and blush, which adds to his clown-like facade in an eerie fashion. He was however, a serial killer, completely distrusted and abhorred by the family, and I was never to go near him. My curiosity, being amplified by my subconscious, was thoroughly peaked and as soon as I could get away, I left the hotel room I’d been sharing with my family, and sneaked my way out to a prearranged meeting with my murderous brother. It was immediately apparent that if I played my cards right, I should be perfectly safe, but I was determined to be very, VERY careful, as he displayed such a cold and macabre view of what he had done that I knew he was as capable of turning on me as a wild animal.

We were talking about his “work” and he was laughing about one of his most recent victims, when a man on a bicycle rode past and spanked me. I immediately kicked his bike tires so that it skid off, landing the man on his rear and it felt quite satisfying. Contrary to my original assumption, he reacted by standing up and smacking me in the face. My so-called brother just stood and watched the altercation, but the man walked off satisfied to have gotten even, so I didn’t really need his intervention after all. It was getting late, and my mood had fallen a bit since my altercation with the biker, so I headed back to the hotel. As my brother was walking me back, I noticed there were a number of police cars with their lights flashing in the parking lot. My heart sunk as I realized what my family must be thinking, and I burst into a run, leaving my brother to flee in the opposite direction.

I was screaming for my father and he turned towards the sound of my voice as I ran around the side of the building. He was so overcome that I was safe and he started crying that he was sure my brother had killed me. I consoled him and we went back to the hotel and turned on the television to see how the search for the murderous little boy was coming. The proximity of my brother to the police in the parking lot had given law enforcement the advantage and they were hot on his trail. They had him partially stranded near a river, but had yet to catch up to him. A helicopter zoomed in on him, sitting waist deep in a shallow river a stream of blood emanating from him and flowing like a red snake downstream, it was apparent that his leg was broken. I knew that he was a horrible, cold, murderous person not fit to continue on with his life, but something inside me yearned for his escape. I watched him glare up at the helicopter camera and it zoomed in close onto his face, he looked so small, standing there with such a determined look on his face, I wanted to help him, I knew he was wicked, but I secretly hoped he would make it.

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