Faces of Evil

This is the part I love, the part I live for. The faces change. The rambling, stuttering, tear-fi lled pleadings, I didnt know that, Cant I have a little longer? on and on, one after another, sounding the same. But its my favorite part of the job. I love to hear these putrid, insignifi cant wastes plead for their lives, beg me to spare them, beg for mercy. What they dont know is that even if I could, I wouldnt because I enjoy killing too much, and its not in me to be merciful.