Killer Worship

Waking up to your own face is not very pleasant.

Jeff the Killer could now say this from experience.

He had fallen asleep reading the paper, which was talking about that Erickson guy he killed a week or so ago, and how his father had suffered a fatal heart attack, possibly due to the grief of losing his child. Jeff didn’t really care about what had happened to the father; his name was in the paper, and he was happy that his work was finally being noticed.

He must’ve fallen asleep while reading the paper, because when the poke woke him, he bolted up, and the newspaper fell from his face.

Then he saw himself.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

“I’m Jan Wadden, your biggest fan!” the not-Jeff said.

Upon closer inspection, Jeff started to notice some differences between his face and his fan’s. For one thing, he used makeup to try looking like Jeff, where Jeff just naturally had that Jeff look. For another, Jan’s white hoodie was still mostly white, unlike Jeff’s, which one could tell was white at one point under all the faded bloodstains.

Jeff noticed all this, then took in Jan’s words. “My…biggest fan?” he asked, hesitantly and confused.

Jan nodded enthusiastically.

“I didn’t even realize I had fans.”

“Well, you don’t have many, since not many understand the deeper meanings of your pain and work, but I do which is why I’m such a big fan and why I call myself Jan the Killer! I’m like you!” Jan exclaimed out.

“Deeper meanings of my pain?” Jeff asked, still incredibly confused.

“Yep! My girlfriend and I – ”

“You mean there’s someone out there with standards that low?” Jeff interrupted.

Jan didn’t notice. “She and I talk all the time about that. She thinks it’s because you didn’t have enough time to grow up before life thrust adulthood onto you, which she relates to, which is why she calls herself Clockwork. I personally think your parents never loved you so you take it out on the rest of the world. I can relate to that because my parents don’t love me either.” He blurted out, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

“Gee, I wonder why,” Jeff muttered. “Also, what do my parents have to do with anything?”

“You remember, don’t you? Your parents took you to that party with those bullies you fought? They clearly didn’t love you.”

“Wait, when did this happen?”

“In your origin,” Jan said, almost adding “duh.”

“Listen, Captain Fanboy, I don’t have an ‘origin.’ Far as I know, I’ve always been this way. I don’t remember a time beforehand, and I don’t really care to. I am who I am and I love it.” Jeff said.

“But the story online says differently.”

“There’s a story written about me online?”

Jan nodded, and pulled out a smart phone. “I can pull it up for you if you want.”

Jeff narrowed his eyes at Jan. “You visited a known wanted murderer, and yet you still brought an easily traceable cell phone?”

Jan paused briefly, then asked, “So, do you still want me to pull it up, or…?”

Jeff sighed, then grabbed the phone from Jan and pulled up the story.

Jan watched with barely concealed excitement as Jeff read the story. Jeff, meanwhile, kept his face completely neutral as he read the story, and then handed the phone back to Jan, who put it away.

“Now do you remember?” Jan asked.

“No, because nothing this stupid has ever happened in my life.”

Jan was confused. “Wait, what?” he asked.

“This is not only untrue, but it is by far the stupidest thing I’ve ever had the misfortune of reading in my life.”

“I mean, the spelling and grammar have some issues, but – ”

“This isn’t about the spelling or grammar. This is about the sheer stupidity of the story. Police don’t work like that, people don’t work like that, reality doesn’t work like that.”

“B-but that’s you! And – and you’re so relatable in that story!” Jan stuttered.

“What’s relatable? The overpowered twit who ends up killing everyone and somehow gets his face bleached white by bleach and vodka? The kid who cracked because of some vague and stupid ‘feeling’ he had? Or maybe it’s his completely evil parents who are neglectful and idiotic to the point of absurdity. Seriously, there is nothing in here relatable to anyone. You just have some blank slate of a main character you can use to be a symbol for your dumbass first world problems.”

“Hey! I don’t have first world problems! My parents don’t love me! They got me the wrong colored iPhone for Christmas!”

Jeff paused for a second, trying to find a way to properly express the emotions he was feeling due to that statement. “They need to come up with a new word for how stupid you are.”

“You’re just trying to drive me away! You – you’re just jealous of me! You’re jealous that I’ll be a better and more well known killer than you!”

“And you’re just grasping at straws. You think you can relate to me? You think you’re such a good killer? Tell me, have you killed anyone? Have you watched the life drain from their eyes? Have you felt the pleasure of knowing that it was you who did that, you who decided they should die? Have you enjoyed the control you’ve felt over this person as you basically played God with their life? Can you relate to that?”

“No,” Jan softly admitted.

“Then don’t act like you’re my biggest fan or anything like me. Go back to Hot Topic and listen to ‘Crawling In My Skin.’”

Jan stood stock still, taking in everything Jeff said, and getting angrier and angrier. Finally, he took out a knife, and said, "Maybe I’ll relate to you now!”

Jan lunged at Jeff with the knife. Jeff stepped out of his way, and grabbed Jan’s knife hand.

“No, you really won’t.” Jeff said, taking the knife from Jan’s hand and stabbing him in the chest with it. Jeff let go of Jan, and his body fell to the floor, dead.

Jeff rifled through Jan’s corpse before finding his phone, a thought coming to mind…

A Few Days Later…

James and Janine Wadden were worried sick for their son. Sure, they might not be the best parents, but they tried their hardest to do the best they could for him. When he ran off without telling them, they panicked, calling the cops, their friends, family, anyone who could help. So far, no one was able to.

They were asleep, finally succumbing to exhaustion after a few sleepless nights. There was a knock at the door. Janine woke up, and went to check it out. She opened the door, and…

James woke up when he heard his wife screaming. She wasn’t in bed, so he ran out, looking for her. He found her by the door, holding a piece of paper and standing in front of a corpse.

“Janine, what happened?” he asked.

“There was a knock at the door, and then he was there!”

“He?”

“Jan.”

James looked at the body. It was his son, but he was dressed oddly and wearing makeup.

“Oh my god,” James choked out, crying.

“There was this too,” his wife said, showing him the paper.

He read it.

“Dear Idiotic Parents,

''“Here’s your dumbass offspring. Having met him, I can say he’s much better this way.''

“Sleep well!

“-Jeff”Dorkpool