Chapter Seventeen

He dropped the binoculars slowly as they moved away from the window and though it was cold on the rooftop, his hate warmed him completely.  He’d watched from this vantage point for the last three days. There wasn’t much to see until tonight. Now Mr. Perfect had paid a visit and the fun began. His little surprise had caused a little chaos, like throwing a rock at a hornet’s nest.  There had been an incredible amount of buzzing going on. He grinned slightly. He had watched all that commotion from the empty apartment in this very building. So convenient. When night finally fell, he climbed the stairs to the roof and waited under cover of darkness.  This was quickly becoming his favorite spot.  He’d watched her move about her room yesterday.  She didn’t do much before closing the curtains. Tonight, however, he got much more of a show.  He could see why Mr. Prefect enjoyed this one so much.  She was a beauty.  It was too bad they moved away from the window so quickly. He would have enjoyed seeing more of those perky breasts. 

He packed his binoculars away in his bag and picked up the rifle case he’d brought with him.  He wouldn’t be using that tonight after all. Though, he really didn’t think he was going to when he dragged it along.  He was enjoying this part too much. Now that he’d found Mr. Perfect’s girlfriend, he was settling into a new game. The rock incident had given him a hard-on like nothing before.  Beginning with that huge Italian oaf, his cock throbbed and then with every additional cop, the frenzy made him rage harder.  He sat in front of the window with his cock in his hand, laughing his head off.

“Why can’t you be more like him?” she said during every game, every interview.  “You don’t do anything but sit around on your ass taking up space!” 

He’d just ignore her and sip his Jack and Coke in his ratty easy chair in front of the television. Every time he’d turn on the game, she’d compare him to Mr. Perfect. Fuck Mr. Perfect. He was a dick. No one was ever that perfect. No one ever said everything right. Mr. Perfect was a fake. He’d ignored her until the day he turned off the hockey game with his foot through the picture tube of that crappy old TV and then proceeded to show her just how different he and Mr. Perfect really were.  

Oh, yes, he was going to put an end to the ‘Second Coming’, but he might as well have fun doing it.