Step One>>>

I am going to start this story with the earliest complete and specific memory I have. Of course, over the years one remembers bits and pieces of various things that happened when young, but this particular situation is burned in my brain as the beginning of my knowledge regarding the power I have.

I was in kindergarten when I remember a certain teacher attempting to make me bend into what she expected a little boy of the eighties to be. She was what we would consider old-school in that her ideals would have fit better in the sixties, or maybe even the fifties. She did not like my silky long hair, in fact she even said what a "pretty girl" I would have made. This could have been traumatic for someone of a different ilk, but not for me. No fucking way could I let someone so unimportant to my being have the upper hand and try to play me. So I began to devise a plan. It was crude I admit, shit, I was only five or six, but it was a plan nonetheless. I was going to make her feel like she had done something wrong like she tried to make me feel.

It was my birthday and, as has always happened in my knowledge but make little sense, I was supposed to bring in a snack for the rest of the kids, well, I didn't. I said my birthday was the day before and I was upset that no one remembered. She argued with me to the point that I was abe to draw a few tears from my eyes and make her question her supposed superior knowledge. She went frantically looking for her list which should have been complete with everyone's true birthday. She found it and felt she had even more ground on which to stand. The sheet, which she vehemently pointed at, said my birthday was March 25th. I insisted it was March 24th but she wouldn't listen. She even called my mother who backed me because she knew there had to be a reason for my mistake. There wasn't but she inadvertently helped me do what I had set out to do. That teacher never questioned me again and pretty much left me alone form that pint forward. Mom, for some reason, never questioned my motives and actually began celebrating my birthday on my chosen day of March 24th.

In the beginning...

I knew EXACTLY what I was doing the second it began. I'm not saying I truly PLANNED it to transpire as it did, but you can bet your sweet ass I knew, nonetheless. As I look back, I guess I can see why people have vilified my conquests, but I fail to see the supposedly moral ground on which they stood.

It's not always cut and dried as the popular, or whatever it is you night wan to call them, media would like us to believe. In fact there are ALWAYS extenuating circumstances. The litigious undercurrent of our society has changed the basic fabric to the point where something is going to have to blow, or we become nothing.

Anyway, at certain times in our history things were done closer to my way, at least according to my personal thoughts. I have used knowledge gathered from school, The Discovery Channel, conjecture, and my voracious appetite for reading to form my historical perspectives, therefore I am not sure how correct they are, but I think I must not be too far off. Besides, if I am I would never let you know that anyway.

You know, the lead in can sometimes be so tedious you find yourself talking to the pages of the book, or newspaper, a TV or movie screen, the DJ on the radio, or possibly even me right now. If the author, producer, director, or again me, knows his, I am not being politically correct right now because I don't want to, craft, he will know that he has beaten a dead horse into a viscous pulp. Even though it has only been a few paragraphs, I am fully aware of your desire to move on.

Without further ado, I always wanted to use that in one of my writings, I will lead you down the path of many many and sordid selves. Self-deprecation, self-loathing, self determination, self-agrandizing, self-acceptance, and ultimately plain old selfishness were my foundation.

It was probably in the late 20th century when I started honing the skills that would get me through my life. Since I wasn't even born until 1984 it was really the latest possible part of the twentieth century. In fact, my birth year just happened to be the same as the beginning of the Orwellian "Big Brother" era. It has only gotten worse since then and I would have to say that old Georgie is mighty pissed off somewhere out there, but, I digress.

It takes a great mind, if I do say so myself, to plan and execute something this devious, especially when your not even yet in double digits. It wasn't always planned, you understand. Actually, it was often just a natural extension of something I found to be innate when I was about seven or eight, maybe even earlier.

From my earliest recollection, people, mainly of the adult type, would constantly gush over my, "gorgeous eyes and beautiful hair." There were also many complimentary comments regarding my incredibly unique skin color and adorable cuteness. Hell, I was , "the shit," before I even knew what, "the shit," was or could do for me. Anyway, the comments came from varied sources such as family, friends of family all the way to complete strangers on the street. I was never one to fear strangers.

I have always been lucky enough to have wavy dark brown hair with natural highlights throughout, which I grew long because it added to my allure, and large, nearly black, eyes with long flowing eyelashes, and skin the color of the old A&W cream soda year round. I have physical features of just about every race known to man as well as a nearly perfectly symmetrical face, which is known as one of the most pervasive definitions of beauty in the scientific community. In short my forefathers and mothers, "done me right."

Due to the fact that people often came up to my mother and me without invitation, I became quite the outgoing little individual, and the term individual is something I would build to suit me.
"Oh my God, she's so cute," cooed one large whit woman I vividly, for some unknown reason, remember. "It's so sweet of you to adopt one of them."

Come to think of it, as I put this to paper, I know exactly why I recall this incident as if it had just happened. It was my mother. Jennifer Williams was most often what one would term a "wall flower." Don't get me wrong, she was anything but shy or weak. My mother just decided from young age that she would rather avoid than embrace confrontation. This time, though, I recall, she had just had enough.

"What?" she seethed. "What in the bleeding HELL do you mean by, 'one of them?'"

The crude obviously ignorant woman was visibly taken aback, though she probably would not have known that phrase, as she unconsciously took two steps to her right, knocking into the candy rack in the grocery store line.

"I didn't know... I mean... I didn't mean..."

"No fucking shit!" hissed my mother. "It's fucking obvious that you neither know anything nor think before opening the immense mouth of yours. I have news for you, bitch, this beautiful BOY is all mine. Now step the fuck back and never, and I mean NEVER talk to or even look and me or my child again!"

With that we abandoned our full cart and strutted out the door. There had to have been at least twenty pairs of eyes following us all the way to the parking lot, but my mother, the indomitable Jennifer Williams, kept her head held high and never once gave them the satisfaction of even looking back.

I surmise the previous situation, along with many others of much less import in my mind, was the way I learned to stand up for what I believe or feel regardless of the consequences, perceived or real. Not that I have ever really had any worth caring about. In fact, the majority of the consequences of my selfish little life were quite positive.

In the summer of my seventh year, I realized a power I seemed to have over most of the other people in my life. It was as if I exuded a force that made it supremely easy to bring others around to my way of thinking. As I have already said, it was innate. Even before I had it, I had begun to hone my talent like the razor sharp blade on a knife.

You know, they (whomever they elusive, "they," may actually be) have said there are no individuals who are actually born evil. I disagree. Although I was never a killer or anything near that, I never had any respect for another human being other than my mother. I had a friend throughout my life who I loved, but I did not really respect or care about her either. teachers, supposed mentors, other family members, supposed friends, various others...they were nothing more than a means to some end.

I found ways to work the system before I could even conceptualize what the system was. I did what I did with no feeling toward those over whom I held sway. They were all just pawns in the chess game I knew as my life.

Now that you have some idea as to my psyche, it is time to tell the story. It will be a ride you may not really like, but it will be one you should definitely take to heart. There are other people out there just like me. Watch for them. If you see or are involved with one of us (them)... RUN! Do not think you can make us into something you wish for. It won't happen. We are stronger than you. Our intrinsic motivation is beyond your wildest ability to comprehend.


You all know someone out there like me. Most of you, though, are way too pussified to admit it. So... Sit back, let your mind wander, and I will tell you the inner workings of the mind of a sociopath. For the next little while, I want you to enter my world and see if you can ever make it all the way back to yours.