Do you want to know why I have this bloody knife in my hand? I just slashed the throat of a beast. Yes, a beast! No, that beast is neither   a wolf nor a wild pig! Not even a bear.  That beast is my neighbor – Mang Tomas. Imagine, he raped and killed his 10-year old daughter. Would you call him a human being? No! He wasn’t. He was a beast. So, I butchered him. And if  among you there are beasts clothed as humans… wolves in sheep’s clothing… then beware. Beware of me.

Do you wish  to know who I am? Listen!

My father was a communist rebel. He was brutally peppered with bullets, ironically by his own comrades, when he attempted to give up his armed struggle against the government. We were not completely orphaned though. My mother is still alive. Unfortunately, she is currently languishing in prison abroad. That is for cutting the throat of her Arab employer who tried to molest  her.

I do have an elder brother, a fugitive of the law. He is a drug pusher. He is hiding from a pack of beasts called police. That is the only job a high school drop-out like my brother could have. A job he was forced to embrace to  support our needs. My elder sister is a vendor. She vends her own  flesh. Yes, she is a prostitute. And our youngest brother, our five-year old angel, my only source of inspiration is… dead. He died of pneumonia and malnutrition.

Before he died, he asked me a question, a question I never thought an innocent five-year old boy would ask — “why has our family suffered so much?” I answered his query with a deafening silence. I groped for an answer to a question that I myself have asked God several times. He tightly held my hand before breathing his last. He looked at me intently. In his eyes was a plea for me to do something so that others my no longer suffer the tragedy of my family. He smiled at me before closing his eyes. That smile remains frozen in my memory.

That very day, I took this caliber .45 that my father gave me. By my brother’s grave I vowed: “I will cleanse society of dregs and scums…whoever pushed my father  to embrace rebellion, made my mother decide to go abroad, taught my brother to take and push drugs,   forced my sister to become a whore, and caused my brother to die a lonely and untimely death, will pay a dear price. I vowed to slaughter and deliver them all to hell. Through this gun I will teach social responsibility. I will fight for the the victims of abuses. I will be their hero. No! antihero is better.

Since undertaking this crusade, I have already killed several people,  some scumbugs are gone from the face of the earth. Killing them came surprisingly easy. They were all unsuspecting for who would thought that behind this boyish look is a brutal vigilante.

My first victim was physician. Imagine how inconsiderate that greedy doctor could be. “Doctor, my brother is dying… But Doc, I don’t have money… Doc have mercy… Doc please! He refused to treat my sick brother  saying his hospital is not a charitable institution. Then came the tricycle driver, our neighbor, who helped me bring my little brother to the hospital.  “Please lend me money, they wouldn’t treat my brother without a deposit.”  “What! You would lend me money only if I would…?” He told me that my sister has repeatedly agreed to that kind of agreement each time he would lend her money. When I refused and told him that I can not even pay that ride, in anger, he punched me in the face and kicked me several times.

Where are they now? In  shallow graves! I  gave  each of them  nasty holes in their skulls.

Right now, worms are heartily feasting on their corpse.

Before I brought my brother to the hospital that day, he asked if he could eat something. I rushed to the store: “Can I have some biscuits please,  my bother is very hungry. Please… I promise to pay soon. The owner refused citing our unpaid debts. He even cursed me. There was a usurer in our place. From him I asked also for help. Unfortunately, he demanded to have a night or two with my sister in return.

Those two were disciples of Satan. So, what I did? I brought hell right on their doorsteps. I burned their houses while they were asleep. They were roasted alive.

I also murdered a well-known politician. That  honorable gentleman who promised to build roads, bridges and school buildings. Those promises were never fulfilled.

Just a week ago I saw  him in a brand  new car parked in a dark alley, would you believe, my brother, yes my dear  drug pushing brother, handed to him several wads of money. The following day, I saw that same politician in another brand new car entering a motel. The woman with him was my sister. Yes my whoring sister.

Guess what I did! Just the other day, while the honorable gentleman was in his car, waiting probably for someone, I detonated the bomb I placed right under the driver’s seat. His body was mutilated beyond recognition.

Now look at me… look at me… I said look at me!!!

Is this the way you want me to advocate social responsibility?

Should my way be the way?