# SERIAL KILLERS: The Robin Hood Bludger ( Language)



## MrLightening (Apr 24, 2011)

*SERIAL KILLERS: The ROBIN HOOD Bludger*​ ​  They thought they were Gods. On top of the world. Three footballers from St. Kilda football club were having drinks at a bar in Crown Casino’s VIP section. It was a Thursday night. It was on season too, and I think they were playing on Saturday. Should a Herald Sun journalist have entered this corrupt den of luxury and sin, these boys would probably have made the back page. ST KILDA DISGRACE it would read. An article about alcoholism would follow. Some people in my quarters would find that hilarious. A Centrelink recipient, a welfare cheat, a dole bludger; who drops out of high school and starts getting drunk every single night of the week – that’s not news. That’s what’s forgotten. It does not matter. Because it’s happening everyday, everywhere. But a St. Kilda player who has three beers in the bar on a Thursday, well … he’s asking for trouble.


  And the boys tonight were asking for trouble. I watched them from a great distance away, plugging dollar after dollar into the pokie machine, while they drank their drinks at the bar and played Black Jack on the high roller table. A few fans had gathered. Someone took a photograph on his mobile phone, and out of nowhere a Casino attendant grabs him by the scruff of his neck and drags him into the shadows. There are shadows in this casino, people forget. It’s in the shadows that I watched Nicky D and Jared M gamble away 20 grand like it was pocket money. Loose change. A joke to people in my quarter. I think it’s been four years since my account was in the black. Sixty percent rent. Ten percent food. Thirty percent alcohol. It’s the simple equation you can live your life by. As the superstars get richer and richer.


  Midnight. The crowd is starting to thin out. I see a disappointed look wash over Nicky M’s face. It’s struck the grand hour and he still hasn’t found his slut for the night yet.


  “Gotta get a CHALLENGE mate,” Jared M offers so loud it makes it across to me. “Gotta get one who is NASTY.”


  Nicky D and Karl W chuckle as they stagger around with their glasses. Another ten minutes go by. Another ten hundred in the casino hole. Things don’t appear to be picking up for them. A couple of the fans have noticed the players are fully intoxicated, and are starting to curse them. Various reasons. Something about someone fucking up a goal at last weeks game. Something about a sex scandal in January. In December. In October. November. Come to think of it, the fans look pretty intoxicated too.


  One am. Looks like the boys are doing alright after all. There’s a blonde sitting on Nicky D’s lap at the bar. A brunette dancing somewhat pretentiously in front of the thickened crotches of Jared M and Karl W. They don’t look like whores. They look like the equivalent of what these guys would have dated in high school. Of course the boys are in their late twenties now, and these girls are barely nineteen. I guess it answers a few questions about where the girls were when I was nineteen. I guess it answers a few questions about why I started the binge.


  One thirty. Late, late, late. The boys are looking to wrap things up. I watch as they grope and molest the girls in a drunken haze. I watch them bite, tongue and squeeze. I watch them whisper. I watch them snarl. Every organ in my body is strained as I watch the sickening display. My teeth lock together so hard my tongue bleeds. The blood flows into the back of my mouth, and glides gently down my throat. I cannot wait for the sudden approach of what is next.


  Two am. Car time. They take the limo, and I call a cab. It’s not easy to place myself in the exact position of being able to follow them. Especially not given my own drunkenness; my own haze. But there I am anyway, managing the follow. I figure there destination is somebody’s house. Somebody’s house where the girlfriend isn’t home. Some place with a bed at least. I’ve read all the stories. The group sex. The orgies. The ferocious lustful fucking. The footballer has a huge appetite for sexual gratification. For dominance. For depravity. The footballer is the barbarian gladiator of the modern world. The hero of children. The rapist of women. The killer of men.


  But tonight we aren’t going to somebody’s house. I guess they’re feeling kinkier. It’s hard to tell. They might actually be feeling with their hearts tonight. For the place that the limo leads us to is none other than the MCG. In other words, Melbourne Cricket Ground. But this is where they play football too. It’s the grand stadium. The pride of Melbourne. Home of football. The limo pulls into the MCG, and a cold sweat rushes down my forehead. I am like a jackal in heat. Like a knife made for killing. The blood and fire of the earth below.


  They park. I park. They get out staggering, and singing merry songs. I get out staggering, saying nothing at all. I follow them up the grassy path as they approach the ground. They’re chucking bottles, telling jokes, and singing rhymes. Actually I think that’s the St. Kilda club song they’re singing. I’m not a hundred percent sure. I don’t follow this team.


  Just the three drunken boys with their two drunken sluts. Three on two. It’s a rough match up. An onslaught. A turkey shoot. A massacre. Actually, I guess it’s me who’s against the odds. Five to one you have to give me. Five to one I can kill them all before they leave the ground.


  The reason I killed was never to make a name for myself. I didn’t want to be known. I didn’t want to be seen. I wanted to come and go in the night, as if the world never knew I was there. This is perhaps a stereotypical misconception about killers. That we killed to become famous. That we killed for a cult following. I know I just wanted to rid the world of every footballer that was ever there. The way I figured it, I’d be doing my country some good. 



  Somebody. Somewhere.


  Some low life, pathetic welfare cheating dole bludger.


  Won’t have to eat dinner alone tonight.








Let us know what you think guys! :drinkcoffee:- Light


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## The Backward OX (Apr 24, 2011)

*Up there, Cazaly! *or should that be Sam Newman?

Really good stuff, for a local readership. Otherwise, you might want to consider a glossary.

One or two minor grammar nits. I'm sure you'll find them on a re-read.


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## MrLightening (Apr 24, 2011)

Thanks for reading Backward Ox! I'm glad you liked it


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## Prinkes (May 20, 2011)

This:  "Actually, I guess it’s me who’s against the odds. Five to one you have  to give me. Five to one I can kill them all before they leave the  ground." is a beautiful line. I would consider placing a comma: "Five to one, and I can kill them all before they leave the ground." That's how my mind read the sentence, with a slight pause there. I think it helps the piece flow.

I love the concept, and when the killer is speaking I'm enraptured. You hooked me in the beginning, lose me a bit in the middle, but have me again by the ending. The middle was just a bit drawn out for my taste. I'm anxious to get to the actual killing, and I'm not particularly interested in what the boys are doing - until the killer comments on it in his snide way. (I suppose the gender of the killer is unknown at this point; for all intents and purposes, I'm going to call it a "he.") His voice is strong, his intentions clear. I hope the next chapter gives us more back story or information on him - you've made me want to know more about him, which is always important. Very well done.


  "Nicky D and Karl W chuckle as they stagger around with their glasses.  Another ten minutes go by. Another ten hundred in the casino hole.  Things don’t appear to be picking up for them. A couple of the fans have  noticed the players are fully intoxicated, and are starting to curse  them. Various reasons. Something about someone fucking up a goal at last  weeks game. Something about a sex scandal in January. In December. In  October. November. Come to think of it, the fans look pretty intoxicated  too."
This paragraph is confusing and seems unnecessary for either tone or characterizing the killer. As said, I'm not particularly interested in the footballers, only the killer, so this paragraph does nothing for me. Right now, it's just slowing you down.

"answers a few questions about where the girls were when I was nineteen." _Wonderful _line. Consider changing "were" to "went." It gives it a little different meaning, but it's a little easier to follow. I love how it hints at why he kills footballers. Very nice. 

All these are what my friend and I refer to as "soft edits." Mere suggestions. Take them or leave them, they are merely my opinion. I enjoyed this as a whole, and I would like to see more if you're planning on posting more.


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## MrLightening (May 21, 2011)

Hey Prinkles! Thanks for reading buddy 

I haven't been on this site lately due to some conflicts in the real world (mostly revolving around moving house and jobs etc.). But I think I will be getting back into posting here next week. At the moment I'm writing three different novels and three different series (one of which is SERIAL KILLERS) whilst also writing other short stories, so there is a lot to juggle! I should have another installment of Serial Killers in the next few days! BUT Serial Killers is about all sorts of different killers, so it will be a while before I return to The Robin Hood Bludger. The world is full of little nasties )


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## Prinkes (May 22, 2011)

Oooh excellent concept. I didn't realize there would be multiple serial killers - that just makes me more interested! I would love to read some of your other stuff too. 

I hope life gets a little calmer for you!


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## MrLightening (May 24, 2011)

Thanks again  Very inspiring words LOL

Have you been to Storymash? I'm on there quite a bit. Look up Mr Lightening and you can see all my current work.


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