Sacrificing the Virgin

“Some of you are going to die / Martyrs, of course, to the freedom that I will provide” – Genesis

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Ignore the bodies for now. We’ll get around to them soon enough. Why else would I have called you here like this? And yes, yes it is amazing what a good taxidermist can do these days. They sew the parts back best they can – good as anybody could be expected to do, really – and then they stand ‘em up on these here little platforms, five inches high, real cherry wood, the works.

So gather ye round and raise a glass. A toast, perhaps, for the boys that have gone before. Lost! Lost much too early and much too young, more victims taken down during the ongoing mythic and immortal pursuit of…

…of…

…well, of me, to be perfectly honest.

All’s I can say is, be careful what you wish for, boy. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of… so on and so forth. You’re welcome to insert whatever moral of the story you wish to insert right up front here, but don’t go and pretend you were never warned later on.

It don’t make a lick of difference in the end, because one dead is as dead as another to a doornail.

Little Rodney was an Asian kid and the only one smarter than me in the whole second grade. Kissed me in the library one day, mostly because I insisted and he was too scared to say no. It was just a quick peck on the cheek and there’s no way he could have known.

Poor Rodney. When I close my eyes at night, sometimes I can still hear the screaming and “Get a medic! That bear just pulled Rodney into the cage!”

“He’ll be alright. You can live without an arm.”

“If they move fast, they can still… Oh, never mind. Probably not.”

And back then, way back in the Year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and eighty-five, well, it looked merely tragic that the first boy who ever kissed you got mauled by a bear on a school field trip just two days later. Way back in 1985, you couldn’t see a pattern.

After so many years of this kind of thing happening on a semi-regular basis, it’s natural that you start to blame yourself.

And then there was Steve. And that was thirteen years! If anybody’s gonna be affected by the curse, it would have to be your first real boyfriend, wouldn’t you think? Thirteen years and everybody thought he was home free, except it turns out his bones was plottin’ against him the whole time and took him down when nobody was looking.

Ruben had dark hair and dark eyes and was quick with some hysterically lame pickup line for every time he saw me. “Nice legs, girl – what time do they open?” And me and Steve, we were going through a bit of a rough patch and so before I knew it, I was at the prom with Ruben One-Liner.

In retrospect, it’s an open question whether the handjob was worth what happened to him, if the two things can in any way be considered connected. It was not my best, which is still better than most people’s best. But it seems the earth just opened up and swallowed him up one day after that. The circumstances were suspect, and there’s even some so-called degreed Men of Science up in Milwaukee who claim the incident proves their ancient Hollow Earth Theory.

I think it was sometime after Jay broke out in eyes and went crazy that the feds started sniffing around. “You really have bad luck, don’t you Ms. Oopsy?” and “Back at headquarters, the words ‘black widow’ are starting to pop up.”

 

Is it physical contact with me that does it? An emotional connection? All of the above? Would casual dating be enough to raise the wrath of the Fates? Would my men be safe at a distance?

Now we come to this one here with the weird haircut, and he was Carl, and him I just flat-out killed, there ain’t no way to sugarcoat that. Did it just to see what it was like and because I figured the feds would never believe I’d be so brazen after all the other incidents. Johnny Cash wrote a song about it, only he got the town wrong and accidentally released it 20 years before I was born. But you can’t trust no one to get the specifics right these days.

And Terrence turned into a chicken pot pie while were in the throes of passion, which is why I always insist on being on top now. And Brian was abducted by aliens and boiled down for fuel. And I can not remember what this one was about, but it does churn the old stomach a bit, does it not? He tasted delicious, though.

That one right before you there? Why yes, that is seagull crap, but not just any. That seagull crap on the platform used to be fish that before that were Greg.

And then there’s… there’s… I’m sorry? What was that you said? Was it worth it to them? Oh hell yes. As much as I hate the things that happened in the end, they met their ends gladly and with smiles on their faces.

Well, probably not AWOL, but I’d always imagined a pack of wild dogs would make some sort of telltale sound before they sprang on a man.

But still the fact remains that, given half a chance, they’d do it all over again the same way. All of ‘em. The fact remains I’m just that good.

And so, Dr. 90210, if – after viewing the remains of the men who have gone before you – you still wish to see me, then I have just one thing to say to you.

Please sign this waiver here… and here...

          …And if you think you are going to want sex, sign and here...     

                    ...And – yes, right here.

There! Now everything is in order… Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale, Doctor. I don’t want you coming down with anything… We’re just getting started, and I have more of these handy platform stands on their way.

Who’s a girl gotta kill around here to find a decent boyfriend?