Murdering My Parents

As you read this, my parents are on their knees pleading for mercy at my feet. Pleading for me to spare their lives. If I were them, I would be pleading with GOD to forgive their sins. The outcome at the end of the day will still be the same. The outcome when you finish reading this will still be the same. The axe that I hold in my hands will deliver the ultimate justice to my parents. They committed a crime now they have to do the time for it. They have to lose their lives at the hands of those they committed the crime against. Me! I am going to slaughter them. It is not murder. It is capital punishment. It is justice.

By the time you are done reading this, I would have murdered my parents. A justified murder. For they failed to be parents and they deserve to die. For I being their child, it makes me judge, jury and executioner. Let justice be served by the death sentence. I am going to slaughter them. It is not murder. It is capital punishment. It is justice.

Let me describe the image that is in front of me before I get into the details of why I am going to be charged with homicide. Wait. I do not think I will be charged with homicide. We have an ineffective judicial system after all. This is Africa. We have an ineffective forensic department. That is even if it exists.

My father now is being a woman and my mother is being a man. My father has tears all over his face, sobbing uncontrollably and clinging tight to my mother's hands. My mother is silent ready for her verdict. For she knows she is guilty. Only the rapture can save them now but I do not think a rapture will happen at such a gracious time of a verdict about to be delivered.

You have to applaud me for being able to balance two acts. One act of keeping my parents still for their judgment and the other of writing these events as they happened. It is like a live feed on cable television or digital television. I am going to slaughter them. It is not murder. It is capital punishment. It is justice.

So let me get to the narration of what has led to this. I am sure you have been impatiently waiting for it. Apologies. Let me get to it, shall I? If I fail to complete my objective of delivering justice, you will know by this story not having two dead bodies in the end.

                                    

The first reason for murdering my parents is because they failed to raise me. What type of parents fails to raise their child? Now they are pleading for mercy. Let me explain how they failed so that when you become a parent you will not fail. If you are a parent and you are reading this you should not fail or you will be having the same fate as my parents. Do not ever experiment with parenting. Experimenting with parenting results in having an axe aimed at your head. Axe to head.

How did they fail? My next-door neighbor, Charles. His six foot tall and a basketball player. No that bright in school but he makes it with average grades that will make him advance to the next level. Six gold medals to his name, no silver, no bronze and you need no explanation as to what comes along with that. Then I, not six foot tall, had no basketball talent and no medals. No parental support in what I do. Wait. I think I am lying now. I lied about the part about no parental support. Yes, I have received parental support in what supports the interests of my parents not me. Now tell me, should they live if they killed their child's self-actualization? Experimenting with parenting will lead you to have an axe on your head.

Murder! Murder! Murder! They killed my self-actualization. So should they live? An eye for an eye. A lifer for a life. If we were in the United States Of America in Texas. I would have ordered a firing squad for their crime but unfortunately or fortunately we are not. We are in AFRICA and I have to use an axe to chop them down. I am going to slaughter them. It is not murder. It is capital punishment. It is justice.

My mother just asked, " Are you writing our death note? Are you going to claim we committed suicide?" I do not need to answer that. You know what I am writing. Suicide? I am laughing myself out. LOL ( Laughing Out Loud). What type of suicide would it be when they are two dead bodies that are beheaded?

I told them I wanted to play baseball. I could swing the bat well and run fast. After they let me attend a couple of sessions. They told me to quit and put my heart into something more solid. Typical African parents. Real stereotype parents. African conservative parents. What was more solid than the love I was beginning to have for baseball?

Believe me, baseball was it. If they had not murdered my passion, I would still not be six feet tall. Wait. I could have been six feet tall if their biological genes were right or perfect. Oh well, they were not. Look at how that turned out. Me with an axe. Ready for slaughter. No basketball talent but would surely have six gold medals to my name and what comes along with that.

" Do you believe in life after death?" A question I have just asked my parents. Well, they are not responding verbally but by more sounds of wailing. At least they get to mourn before their funeral. I am going to slaughter them. It is not murder. It is capital punishment. It is justice.

So you think I am murdering my parents for not supporting the dreams that could have made me become something? I am also sentencing them to death for another crime. A crime of being parents that are not rich, upper middle class, or elitist. Yes, that too. They deserve to be murdered for that too. If they had such class status they would not have had their child holding an axe to chop them to death. Well, if they had that type of social status, then if I was to murder them. I would be using a gun. An AR15, America's favorite weapon. A shotgun, a pellet, or a riffle. Wait. I would not murder them for being bad parents who had failed to raise me. But would murder them for an inheritance, a will, life insurance policy. Wait. I do not think I would murder them for that because I would already have had it. But oh well, who cares. The verdict is the same. Death.

"Do you know what I could have been if either one of you was Melinda Gates or Bill Gates? Or if one of you was Aioke Dangote, Oprah Winfrey, Robert Mugabe, Nelson Mandela, or Gordon Brown. " Do they have any idea of whom I could have been now? I am sure I would not be having an axe to chop down their heads and you would not be reading this. Now, look at me. About to become a convicted murderer. Homicide style. No, I am not. I am about to deliver justice to a pair of failed parents. Capital punishment.

The car that you drive to commute me to school. That car. GOD that car. What were you thinking when you bought it? That car was just shameful and reflected 'poverty'. That 'poverty' was transferred to me. The students at school would see that. You had to improve your lives first before you thought of creating me. Being experimental parents. You were experimenting with parenting. Look at the results now. Axe to head.

If you believe I should not murder my parents. Please send me an email @ mutandiroasher@gmail.com or call the police to stop me. Or start a hashtag trend on social media. Wait you can not. By the time you started reading the first seven words of this confession article, the funeral processions were already done with. But let me not give capital punishment to the story for you. Shall I continue? You see I …..

Apologies for the silence above. I just swung the axe for my first strike. Guess who? Yes, you are right. My father. He just got the first strike and he is now silent. Let me paint the picture in front of me. Ladies and gentlemen, you should desist from watching horror movies. Were people's heads get chopped off in one swing?

The axe is stuck in my fathers' neck. His bleeding to death with the axe stuck in his neck. So with a neck that has been struck with an axe, it means no supply of blood to the brain, and in seconds he would be out. Blood is gushing out. Where are there floodgates in his neck? I can not see though, the axe is still on the neck. It is not murder. It is capital punishment

Remember when you compared me to Josh? Yes, Josh. I do not think you do. Do you? It was like you wished you were his parents. Did I ever compare you to his parents? You know you are deadweight as to Josh's parents. Well, you better had wished you were his parents because I do not think he would be murdering you now. Sorry not murder, capital punishment.

Just me and Mother now. A bad mother. Who carries a child for nine months just to raise him to be like me. I am sure she enjoyed walking around with a full tummy informing the world that she was pregnant but never really thought of the aftermath of raising a child. "You were experimenting with parenting mom and if you did not know this was to be the result. Now you know." Mother once told me...…

Apologies for the silence above. I had removed the axe from my fathers' neck and struck him seven times across the head. To finish the first half of the job. Then struck the mother four times across the upper spinal cord to complete the verdict. Justice served.

Let me explain why I did it quickly. For I have to run and dispose of this weapon of justice. Clean the house with bleach. Have a perfect ally that will state I was not on the crime scene but was with them. The pastor could be one perfect alibi. If it even goes that far into the investigation. This is Africa, man! They would care less. A police report, a couple of questions and it becomes a cold case. It is not murder. It is capital punishment. It is justice.

So now I am an orphan. Maybe my family relatives can raise me now. Uncles, aunts and grandparents. Better than the deceased. What if they can not? Will I swing the axe again? I bet you, I will. Am I proud of what I did? Yes, capital punishment for a crime was delivered. You do the crime, you do the time. Who would have delivered this level of justice other than myself? The victim, me. Was the judicial system going to arrest or prosecute my parents for being bad parents? No! What type of judicial system would do that?

So am I now six feet tall? No. Am I now Bill Gates' son? No. But there is no feeling that is equivalent to fair justice delivered by your means or hands. No wonder why people take matters into their own hands. Justice! Justice! Justice!