This centers on a deranged woman's path to becoming a complete nihilistic and feral serial killer. Emma Woodburn was put in the asylum for eleven years after killing her own husband and ten-year old son, along with the aging mother of a detective.
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On a clearer note, it had been an oversized, plump bulging tummy low-life wearing the suite and parading like some high-school mascot idiot just to earn some cash. Whoever he was, it looked like he was getting paid good by the old lady that hired him.
It was approximately 7:45 on the dot. On the sunny field near Central Park, it was a birthday party held by ten-year-old Mason Ivy, a kid kept under the care of the ninety-year old owner of a retirement home Ms. Everton Lee and her lesbian wife, a thirty-nine-year-old. The Sonic mascot was aided by his counterpart, an oversized Wario costume which was being worn by a plump woman. The kids even made fun of how ugly and distorted the Wario costume had been.
There were hoola-hoop battles, Simon Says, a Kissing Booth and other youngster games, popcorn, cotton candy, peanuts, birthday presents, roller skating boys and soda, especially a woman in a WHITE dress, cap, shoes, gloves and sunglasses standing right next to a blind beggar seeking some form of attention. Emma Woodburn smiled and gazed at the skies. It had been a beautiful sight to see. The sweet innocent Mason enjoying a birthday and celebrating with friends who were there for him.
Emma, through those eyes of anarchy and disdain, peeked at Mason through the WHITE shades like a stalker. Mason was seated by the side of Everton's wife when a girl came by and engaged in conversation with him.
A girlfriend? Emma muttered in her head; you shouldn't be flirting with girls at this age. She is just another prostitute. A stupid prostitute. Look at her disgusting hair. Those awful teeth. What an ugly whore. I want to find her mother and eat her. First, I'll find the fucking woman called Kimberly, then pay Jenny and Kenny Louise a visit in the night again, then I'll find your mother and eat her hands and legs. For this is what God made me to do.
"Excuse me, maam?", the blind beggar called and interrupted.
Emma looked disturbed for the first time.
"Will you be kind enough to help an old man out? You seem like a very kind woman. Lovely and kind. All dressed in WHITE. I can tell." The beggar lifted an old, rusted orange cup with flies soaring all around it. Emma smiled ravishingly of course, then took two coins from her left pocket and dashed it to him.
"I'm not doing this for God," Emma snarled viciously at once, "I'm doing this because you're an ugly pest that likes to infest the streets with your lies and filth. You should die or better yet, get decapitated by a flag pole."
Emma's words sounded like Death itself. The homeless man startled but it seemed he was aware of whom he was speaking to.
