Both Kinds of Killing

I would just like to take a brief moment to say that anyone who is exlusionary in his/her killings is an asshole. Let this serve as a lesson to us all and help bring this worls a little closer.

Thank you.

Larry's Home From School

Larry had been home from college for exactly three days, four hours, and five minutes before he got himself in some sort of trouble. The specific reason for his trouble was not nearly as interesting to Larry as the fact that he was able to pin-point the moment and become entranced with the 3,4,5 anomaly. It was precisely because of this that he ran the stoplight - the only stoplight in town - on his way home. Larry was in a hurry, but that's not why he ran the stoplight. He was always a very careful and cautious driver. He ran the stop light because he was checking out his calculator watch. He was in a hurry because of acute paranoia.
Larry had been away at State U studying chemistry. In his three semesters at school Larry learned four things. He was a stud with the ladies. He was never going to finish college. How to make LSD. And that with the LSD, his small town of loyal Pink Floyd fans, and a little of the ol' college try (minus the college part of course), he did not need college.
Larry had planned to build an empire. An empire built upon the sale of synthesized mind-altering substances. His best friend Mook said he would do most of the leg work. Larry just had to sit back and make the shit.
On this day, his fourth day home (do the math), Larry became paranoid that his parents (one of the world's foremost preeminent husband-wife dating experts teams) knew.
They knew everything.
They knew he was not going back to school.
They knew that his chemistry set was not being used for good as he always assured them.
He knew they would turn him in.
Getting pulled over for running the stoplight just added to this.
In actuality, it changed nothing. Larry was safe. Safe from the police. Safe from his parents. Safe. In fact, if this day had turned out differently, Larry could have made enough money in a few shorts years and gotten out of the game before anyone would even notice.
But it didn't.
Larry, parked his car, ran into the front door, and was met with his parents standing, waiting for him. They had enjoyed the brownies he left for them, but questioned why they weren't left in the kitchen rather than his room. It was almost as if they were hidden, they joked. They were still, unbeknownst to Larry, completely clueless.
They had a young girl with them. She was a new acquaintance from work and they figured that her and Larry would just hit it off. She loved the brownies too and was really impressed with a man who could cook.
Larry's dad motioned everyone to come into the dining room. He had taken to new 35 millimeter home from work to fool around with it.
"Everyone smile."

snap.

Who's the King, Baby?

Who's the King, Baby?

You are, you're the King.

Damn right. Come here, Baby.

Oh, I...

Ah heck, I'm coming to you.

Smootch.