My friend Marc. What was he really like in the 1800s?
“A mass murderer with a smile.”
The photo below is not of my friend Marc. It has nothing to do with the story I’m about to tell about my friend Marc below the photo. Having said that, this is a photo I took of my friend Dan. He is not a mass murderer but he enjoys the bible and assassinating people with his smile too. Especially the fine church going coffee drinkin’ young ladies of Rockford, IL.
Dear Marc,
I haven’t forgotten about our last trip to Martha’s Vineyard to reminisce about our previous lives as hired bounty hunters working on the dole for President Polk. I thought that anyway when I met you a few years ago. The government in it’s earliest conception would have contracted you to defend freedom but without them knowing, you do as you wish and kill only on principal.
Like let’s say for kicks sometime in the mid 1800s President Polk called you up on a horse and said, “Sir Marc, the english are making a comeback, I hereto authorize a mass murdering spree to you and your henchmen if needed.” You’re like, “Sure Mr. P! Will do! Can I have your horse though?” And Mr. Polk says, “Why yes young Marc, why yes, now onward and KEEL!”
So you and your merry men set off to the tip of what is now Maryland and wait for days, months, well, a few years go by. One day, after 2 of the original dozen you arrived with had passed on, a ship arrives in the distance. A ship filled with ENGLISH ACCENTS. Shit is right Marc, but you’re cool, calm, collected, you’ve been hired to kill by President Polk but have no idea by now who is President because years have gone by.
The captain sets foot on dry land and shakes your hand with a “Bullocks innit? Sate off in the night looking for pheesh and bloody cunts! Hail, and now thees, where am I dear bearded lad with a smile?!”
You exchange pleasantries and laughs, his men, and your men set onward towards the inland for a good time. Whores and devilish spirits for all. Sometime before dawn, drunk and filled with bollocks of course, you remember what you’ve been contracted by President Polk to do years previously. In the blink of an eye you signal your men with an “I’m sorry Captain, but Mr. Polk told me so…” And you raise your fist, swords and machettes start chopping off the heads of rifles and the hands of these innocent visitors. You decide to spare their lives in exchange for cries of mercy. However, the captain decides to have the last word and yells out “BOLLOCKS!!! YOU BLOODYYYY CUNNNNNNTTTTTTT!!!!!!”
And that did it Marc, that’s when you truly smile. “OFF WITH HIS HEAD!”
So, you spared the rest their lives and ate a mighty breakfast, enjoyed some whores, dropped the captain’s head in a bag and sent it off on the horse he lent you with a message that read; “Please don’t send me no more letters, no. Unless you mail them from Desolation Row. Regards, St. Marc”
You’re a good man Marc. A mass murderer with a smile.
The end.
