Sling Blade meets Naked Lunch

“He’s just a boy. Mmm hmm….”
“What in the hell you doin’ with that gun? ”
“I don’t rightly know. I just kinda woke up a-holding it.”
“What the fuck you think he’s doin’ with that gun?”
“Some people call it a gun.  I call it a fire stick.  I aim it’s about time to do our William Tell Routine.”
“Hmm… I shouldn’t done that, he was just a boy, poor little feller.”
 – – – 

 “Now, repeat after me: A dimwitted southerner is the best all-round cover an agent ever had.”
“I’ve heard it said that a-way.  Hmmm, biscuits and bug powder.”
“Say, mister.  Could you rub some of that mustard on my lips?”
“Hmm… funny.  Not funny ha ha.  Funny queer.  Reckon I’ll have to get used to looking at homo-erotic bugs.”
“Guess you will.”
“Reckon I’ll have to get used to them looking at me too.”
“Better go get your things.’
“Ain’t got nothing but that pillowcase.”
“What’s in the pillowcase?”
“Hmm… reckon it’s the remains of my last writing machine.”
“Better go get it.”
“All right, then.”
 – – –

“They say you murdered your momma. Is that true?”
“Hmm… reckon it wadn’t an accident.  Hmm mmm.”
“If you had it to do over again, would you do it the same way?”
“I reckon I would.”
“I’ve been killing my own mother slowly over a period of years.”
“Well, not intentionally. I mean, on the level of conscious intention, it’s insane, monstrous.”
“Reckon I hear’d ya say it.  Hmmm…”
“Not consciously. This is all happening telepathically, non-consciously.”
“Whad’ya mean?”
“If you look carefully at my lips, you’ll realize that I’m actually saying something else.”
“I like the way you talk.”
 – – –
“What is the purpose of your visit?”
“I aim to kill you.”
How do I know you are really a killer?
“Well, I have a slingblade.  Hmm.  Some people call it a slingblade.  I call it a head chopper.”
“That’s not good enough.  Show me.”
*whack* *whack*
“Am I dead yet?”
“Almost.  Hmm mmm.”
 – – –

“Welcome… to the mental institute.”
“Hmm… mental institute.”

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