Daddy always had things he collected in his secret place.
Dolls, clothes for naughty girls and a cage built for the whores he met at the bars.
You see, he killed my mom a few years back
The cops called it an accident, a slip and fall down the basement stairs.
They were wrong.
As for the cunts he drugged and brought home
Some were in the naughty clothes and others were naked as sinners
Oh how he loved to torment them
Jabbing them with long sticks, with hot straight pokers on their tits
and slicing little holes in their arms where he had them bound close to the bars
Poor girls, I would think,
He would whip each daily and put nail polish remover in their eyes just to watch them tear up.
I was sent to the store to pick up the supplies he needed
The cashier would say, weird stuff you buy here
and I’d reply Dad’s building a bunker, in case war breaks out
Every time he said good luck
I wanted to call the police but Dad would know.
He knew how long it took me to get home
One night, Dad said, you’ve been a good girl, let’s get Chinese takeout
We’ll eat it here so the bitches don’t escape
Oh what a plan I had for Dad.
I set the table but hid the chopsticks on purpose
In a growl he said Get the chopsticks you cuntwhore
So I went into the kitchen, grabbed the baseball bat he kept by the door
and gave him a blow which knocked him out.
I pulled his head up and duct taped it to the table
He woke, dazed and said what have you done to me?
I replied what I should have done years ago
I put a small sliver of the tape on his mouth
and gently put a chopstick in each of his ears
My last words to dad were who’s the bitch now
I jammed the chopsticks in both ears and blood sprayed everywhere
His head fell forward, chin to his throat
Justice had been served.