Copycat
I'm just like Ted Bundy
Here’s my Gibberish entry for the “bottle episode”, round 2 of the competition. I had a lot of brain strain with this one as it required only one character, only one setting and at the end the character had to leave or escape. To make matters more pressurised, the absolute limit was 2150 with the absolute minimum being 1850. This really challenged me and I loved creating it. I hope you like it too.
Copycat
Today is the day. I’m getting out of here.
I’ve refused every meal they've served me. I’ve tried hiding but they keep finding me. It’s a shame because I found a really good hiding spot. All you have to do is walk over to this back wall here and when you get really close, all the lights go off. It’s not good enough as a hiding place but it’s pretty good.
So anyway, I’ve had enough and I can’t cope with this cell any more so I’m taking drastic action. I’m on hunger strike. I did eat some biscuits just before but I mean I’m not eating meals. That’s what Ted Bundy did. He skipped meals and got out of prison. I’m in prison by the way, in case that wasn’t obvious.
So I’m in my cell. Yeah, it’s completely white. The white floor and the white walls all blend into one like a 90s music video. Any moment now, there’ll be some boyband jostling and hop-scotching around singing about trivial teenage romances. The only thing that makes it different is that there’s a bed in one corner and somewhere to shit in the other.
I have to get out of here. I have to.
I have a plan, anyway. Let me tell you my plan. No, please don’t go. I promise it’s good.
I saw in a programme once where Ted Bundy outright refused to eat for a few days and escaped county jail. He escaped not once but twice! If Ted can do it, I can do it. Don’t get me wrong, I know he’s a serial killer and all but he had some good ideas when it came to escaping, don’t you think? I’m going to do a Ted Bundy.
I’d actually argue that I have more natural talent than Ted did when it came to this kind of thing. I can get myself out of a tight spot. That’s not really the issue. This is something else. I’m prepared for it, though. I’ve been training and I am leaving because no matter how friendly I was, they kept locking me in here. Don’t get me wrong, the food is better than what I get at home but it’s not about that. It’s about my freedom. My freedom is paramount, you see. I will not go down like Ted. I may be like Ted in other ways but I’m no prisoner.
I’m more like Ted than I previously thought, actually. I am charming, after all. I mean, kids don’t like me but who cares about kids anyway? It’s when people don’t like me. I don’t understand that. Why would people not like me?
I tried to do the whole “let’s make friends” thing once because it’s good to have friends, I think. I really did try but it wasn’t for me. I’m a lone wolf, so they say. In fact, they say quite hurtful things about me. They say I’m ‘transactional’. Can you believe that?
I only ever tried to please people and you know what? I’m actually nicer than Ted. I bring people gifts upon gifts and most of the time they don’t say thank you. Actually, sometimes they say it but it sounds really negative, you know?
All right, maybe I am just like Ted: I’ve killed. I know, it’s an awful thing to do but I can’t stop. I just can’t. I’m in here because I’m a killer. What’s worrying though is that rather than chuck me in a standard cell and let me rot, they want to do experiments on me. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, we can talk about how I actually ended up here in what I can only presume is some sort of prison laboratory. Oh they’ve shaved my hair off. See? Ugly or what? I look like a criminal.
I’m going to do a Ted Bundy and I’m going to get out through the vent, fan thingy. It’s up there, above wall one. I can remove the grate and climb in. Ok, it’s a bit high and I’m still a bit too fat right now but things will change. I’ll be able to reach it when I’m as light as a feather. I’ll wait until it’s dark though, as no one comes in at night. I know it looks high but I swear I can do it. I saw a cat on the telly who can jump like one of those African cats. What’s it called? A serval! That’s it. It’s called a serval and it can jump.
I bet you want to know how I ended up here anyway, didn’t you? I’ll tell you.
It began when I was minding my own business. I was actually on the toilet when they found me. Gross, I know. Perverts can’t even let you poo in peace.
Ok maybe I was on the toilet and also high as a kite. Who can blame me? It grows in my garden! Ok I can barely remember how I got here. They must have found one of the bodies.
Given what we know now, I can only surmise that they threw me into the back of a van and took me to this place. I think it’s a laboratory because all they’ve done is test me for things. It’s white and it’s clean and I mean, too clean. I’m finding it so clean that I’ve barely been able to do my business. I feel like I’d ruin the vibe, in all honesty. I don’t like mess and I seem to make lots of it without trying. My chin just seems to scoop it up and scatter it everywhere. Maybe they’ve turned me into something else… I’ve seen Deadpool.
That’s beside the point anyway. The point is, they love to do tests on me. Are you listening? You should be. Get a pen and get this down because they are testing me and I’m sure I have rights. I don’t know any good lawyers, do you?
They love tubes here. Tubes, tubes and more tubes. Every time I see someone they’ve got a tube for me. They take my blood and- hey, get this down- I did not consent. Get that on social media, please? Do a gofundme or something. People love that. No, don’t share it on Facebook. Likes from lonely grandmas never got anyone out of prison.
I’ve been singing at the top of my lungs for most of the day as complaining did nothing. I tried the whole let me out, let me out thing but they ignored me. They still come in and manhandle me, force feeding me tablets and water and shoving tubes everywhere, so I’m singing instead. I will turn this box into a box of mirth, just you watch!
Maybe they’ll like my song. Maybe they like music.
Oh yeah, I’m here because I’m a killer. Did I mention that? I’m just like Ted. I started small, you know with mice and stuff. I moved on to rabbits and it just progresses from there, doesn’t it? I’ve been killing things since I can remember. I will always be a killer. It’s in my nature. They can’t lock me up for that. I will succeed where Ted couldn’t.
The thing is, I really need to leave because I miss my garden, I miss my bed, I miss my favourite spot on the sofa. Will I ever go home? Now that I really think about it, it’s not looking likely. I’m sitting here with nothing but walls around me. Well, there’s some mesh on my cell door if that counts for anything. At least I can see the wall outside. Walls, walls, walls. That’s what my latest song is about. It’s just called “walls” for now. I don’t know a lot of other words, really.
Oh hey, guess what? Yesterday, a spider came in. That was fun. It crawled around, up and down the walls. I couldn’t reach it and it couldn’t reach me so we coexisted for a time. I really wanted to do a Renfield and eat it. I’m not Renfield by the way, if that’s what you’re thinking. I have no master. I’m a free agent. That spider got out anyway. Lucky sod. It hasn’t been back since. I wouldn’t come back either if I had the choice. The spider is a killer that walks free. Did you ever notice that? You don’t see anyone arresting spiders.
I’ve been here for days, I think. I’ve tried to get up and walk but I feel so heavy. They have to drug me to keep me here, you see. I knew I was dangerous but not that dangerous. I’m flattered.
So my life now revolves around four walls and a mesh window that nobody walks past. It’s boring. Unlike Ted, I don’t have a woman who’ll visit me in prison and do anything for me. I mean, I thought I had a woman but I was wrong, clearly! I haven’t seen her for ages.
I tried escaping in other ways but no matter how much I fight back they manage to stick the needle in. “A sharp scratch,” the nurse says every time. It’s more than a sharp scratch. I’ll show you a scratch, Tiffany.
They tricked me the first time. Then I bit them. It’s the only way they leave me alone. I’ll keep trying to bite until they make me wear one of those Hannibal Lecter things. Have you ever seen that film? It’s about a man who eats people. Monstrous. They’re treating me like I’m him. I don’t eat people. That’s a step too far. Ted didn’t eat people and neither do I.
They haven’t quite masked me but they have put something on my head. I can’t really describe it to you but I know it’s there. I can still bite anyone who sticks a finger in my face but it makes it really hard to look around.
I’m not wearing a cannibal mask for anyone. Absolutely not. Hey, I can do that ‘fuh fuh fuh’ sound he does too. The nurse doesn’t like it. I wonder if she likes fava beans? I don’t.
Oh, can you hear that? Yeah it’s a trolley being wheeled away. It’s laden with torture devices. They tortured me. I won’t show you but let’s say that I’ve been tampered with. Oh fine, they took my balls. I think they do that here as common practice. At least, that’s what it sounds like when I hear them talking outside and I hear the cries and screams of the others. This place is a government run facility, I just know it. They castrate you for being a murderer. The doors make a creaking sound and their slams echo down the halls like you’re in an asylum. It’s hell here but I’m the one shouting, “they may take our balls but they’ll never take our freedom!” Do you think Mel Gibson would want to make a film about this? He loves that kind of thing.
They’ve probably told everyone I know that I’m dead. Either that or I’m so evil that they’ve taken me to one of those high security facilities because people are so afraid of me. Or I’m mad. I could be mad. I don’t think I’m mad though, do you?
Nobody visits me here. I mean, I don’t really care if they do or don’t. I just want to get out but I am bored. I tried climbing the walls but they’re so slippery. The bed is all right but it’s not my bed. It’ll be some other chump’s bed after I’ve been chopped up and squeezed into a petri dish. They used to do that sort of stuff to beagles, you know? Made them smoke loads of cigarettes and chopped them up for science.
Oh, where did that box come from? Hey let’s get in and play box snails. I play it all the time at home. It’s great. If anyone walks past I just swipe and bam! Dead. I love playing with boxes. So many opportunities arise from one box. I always think the smaller the box, the better. It doesn’t even matter if my backside is hanging out. They’re great.
This one is a bit dark though. Hello? Hello? Can you hear me out there?
Wait, do you hear that? We’re somewhere else. What the hell? I think I’m out! I think I’ve escaped. Take that, Ted. You just needed a box.
Oh, I know where I am. Any moment now someone’s going to lift me out and tell me I’m a “poor baby”, stroke me a bit and give me back to that woman I live with. They’ll keep doing it because I purr when they do. I can’t help that. It’s a reflex.
This story is 2143 words
,Thank you for reading this story.
That’s what I call misdirection.
Laugh out loud funny. Holy moly. Well done. This was a tough challenge, but WOW. Can't wait to get the write-up done for this. Your story has been officially received!