The Night Devours

This is outrageous.

Plain and simple.

The incompetence of the police department

is on full display people.

I mean, what's the body count now?

Eight, nine?

And those are just the ones we know about.

What's it gonna take for the libs to do something?

Outrageous, I tell you. Simply outrageous.

A new terror has risen.

As police in Portland, Oregon,

continue the statewide manhunt.

In today's news,

the serial killer dubbed,

"The Forest Park Strangler"

continues his reign of terror in the Portland area.

Police are warning women to stay inside

and lock all doors and windows.

Here's where I'm getting confused.

The press is saying we have a serial killer at large,

but the police

The Police have no answers

and the City is gripped with fear

in the wake of this string of murders.

That brings the known body count to seven

for the serial killer that the press has dubbed,

"The Forest Park Strangler."

I think I just wanted my dad to love me, you know?

He was my hero and I,

I didn't matter.

He couldn't see me no matter what I did

and I just wanted him to see me.

Like, look at me one time

and see the person I could become.

I remember in third grade,

there was this after school program for ballet,

and I thought, you know,

my dad could see me on stage,

see me dance

and fly, that he would be proud of me.

So I signed up and I lied to him,

told him I was taking football practice.

And every day, I'd go up on that stage

and I'd pour my heart into it.

And I loved it.

I loved dancing.

I loved the feeling, the movement,

the music, all of it.

I practiced so hard.

And then the recital came

and I asked him to come watch me.

He did.

He sat in the audience

and I stood up there on stage

and I looked out and I smiled.

I danced my heart out.

I gave everything to the dance.

I flew through the air.

I turned,

and every time I got a chance, I'd look down

and see if he was smiling.

The dance ended.

He didn't say a word to me,

not a word.

We got in the truck.

We drove home in silence

with me just sitting there dying,

dying. "Dad, please look at me."

Tell me I did good.

"Tell me you're proud of me."

Nothing.

We got home,

he opened the car door and he said, "Come on, son."

I was about halfway out when he slammed the door on my leg,

shattering it in three places.

And as I lay there screaming,

he leaned over,

he grabbed me by the throat and he said,

"That's because there are no faggots in our family son."

Hey, you're John, right?

Yeah, I am. How you doing, man?

I'm pretty good.

How's it going?

Oh, it's all right.

Where are you headed tonight?

Downtown. Gonna see some music.

Nice.

Yeah.

Well, we'll get you there in just a few minutes.

Awesome. Thanks.

Hey, sweetie, how you doing?

Good. You?

I'm good. What's with the camera?

Filmmaker.

Oh, yeah? Like in the movies?

Am I gonna be famous?

Yeah, maybe.

Looking for a date?

Yeah. How much?

A hundred dollars for the basic.

$200 for Greek.

$50 if you're on a budget, no cameras though.

Yeah. Okay. Get in.

Hey, Lace. You good?

You got it.

You got someplace we can go?

Yeah, I know a place. Come on.

Get off of me!

What the fuck?

Get, get off of me.

Stop it!

Please, let me out of here.

Hello.

How you doing?

Good. How are you?

I'm doing all right. (Door thudding)

Awesome.

You got anything exciting going on?

Um, yeah.

A friend of mine is getting married. (Laughs)

- Nice, nice. - Yes.

Yeah. It's gonna be hanging out and partying later then?

Yeah. We're gonna head to Slims. (Laughs)

I'll say this for my mother,

she could take a punch.

I know. I saw her take several

that were headed for me.

When I was a baby,

she stepped in front of him.

I'd look at her laying there,

blood gushing from her nose,

her eye black,

and she'd look at me and say, "I did this for you."

And then one day she stopped.

She stopped protecting me.

And then the punches came for me,

and it was me on the floor

with black eyes,