Why Not Just Kill Them, Part Two

John J. Nazarian
June 17, 2024

As the years passed I would travel the world with my father and travel as the Captain’s Kid on some pretty nice ships. This was likely just the beginning of my arrogant attitude development and always felt that I was better than most, in time I would prove that I was. And along that way I would meet my father’s many girlfriends he had in all the ports of call, all of them were very pretty. I am guessing dad too, enjoyed his position in life, The Captain! Japan, Korea, Italy and others. I totally understood what time it was and found it interesting, my father was living the life, and almost impossible to ever get caught, as I have stated previously my father was a very very smart man.

I remember those were the days immediate contact was not in the picture, cell phones and computers, all of it laughable even to imagine such a thing. Letters home to loved ones would be placed in a floatable container and tossed over board as the ship navigated through the straights of Gibraltar. This container with mail would be picked up by a pilot boat and mailed from shore, this was high tech stuff. I also recall that a few U.S. dollars were tossed into the container too.

My father would marry a woman, Marian Winifred Nazarian born in 1915, the two would marry in 1965 as I recall. It was a wedding bash fitting a man of my father’s stature in life, very elegant. It was all good back then, Marian was in full manipulation mode, be all nice and smily to everyone especially the kid she had to win over, Me. Be nice to the Captain’s kid and get those hooks in deep and boy did she ever, her AKA BITCH was actually not strong enough. All was OK for a short time and then her mother came to live with us after Marian’s dad (Claude Fox) died. As I recall, he was a decent fellow. (There was a reason that god made Marian the Bitch unable to bare children, she was not mother material from the womb!) The first time I met him he bought me a Beatles Cake, nice old guy. Seemed right for the times as my father was gone much of the time due to his voyages and Marian having her mother around would be nice for her, companion. Not so much for me as I would have to deal with one telling stories about me and the other swearing by them, fucking Granny!

I was beginning to be a bit of a problem child and Marian was not ready for me and my mood swings as well as my nasty attitude. Remember I was a troubled child, real troubled with some incredible ability to think outside the box, PROBLEM! The Happy Newlyweds bought a gorgeous house in Melrose, a suburb of Boston, very classy and comfortable, everything done up to the nines. I had my own room and still there seemed to be something wrong with me. I dabbled in selling marijuana and of course got tossed out of high school. When everyone was dancing to a waltz I was into Motown! We had the occasional visits from the cops as to my not being nice in and around the house, I was not “ behaving”. After all every parent calls the cops on their kid when he or she is a problem and not listening. “John won’t program and be a good boy.” I can recall one time that her mother aka Fucking Granny, a very old hick from Toledo, Ohio hit me with her slipper as I was going down the stairs to have my evening session with some barrel bellied flatfoot. By the grace of god the cop aka “Barrel Belly” yelled at me, “don’t you dare”, as I raised my hand to knock ‘granny’ down those gorgeous steps…. I could just see, granny laying there with the granny night grown up over her head and her useless body laying still, her life draining out of her after her well deserved trip down those stairs! That cop intimidated me a bit I guess, those days these fucks with badges would thump the shit out of you, and they all knew my father! And I clearly remember getting stopped and getting a good taste of a black leather glove as it smacked me in the face. I also remember hearing one of the boys in blue yell, “don’t hit him he is the Captain’s kid”……. I would remember that to this very day.

Well that was just another event I knew I would catch hell for upon dad’s return home. Hell between Marian, her mother and the local cops all with their stories about how bad John was no wonder my father was fit to be tied. I had taken the car one night and Marian the Bitch called the cops and reported the car stolen…thus the incoming smack. Along with the surprise for the boys with pretty lights stating, “ that is the Captain’s kid”.

The final straw was when I plotted to kill them both, Marian and her mother, god I hated them both way before the day I was unceremoniously removed from the ‘family home’ and sent to California, The Big Bye Bye. The plot if you will began when I was playing with my chemistry set and I was dealing with chemicals to kill insects and stuff that we would blow up out in the back yard. Kid stuff, well at least till I decided to dispatch these two directly to hell, while they enjoyed breakfast! Don’t get me wrong, holding a pillow over the old geezers (Fucking Granny) face would have been so much fun too, the thrashing and of course, her losing her bowels as she struggle to suck in her last breaths! The best would have been hearing Marian scream in horror at the discovery, “ Mama”, every time I heard that, “Mama”, I wanted to cut her throat with a dull and rusted kitchen knife. What I am describing above was of course all a fantasy that I enjoyed, something similar to mental masturbation if you will. More fun then looking at Farrah Fawcett posters as a long teenager or cousin Joe getting off!

As I stated previously I was a troubled youth, trying to find myself. No worries years later I would in fact find myself, I became a police officer. L.M.A.O., all those background checks and polygraph exams, total waste of money as far as I was concerned….. I wonder why that stuff never worked on me?

The deed, in my fantasy as I slept soundly, began when I put poison and Raid in the coffee percolator, I thought for sure one of them would smell it, THEY DID NOT! Further more they both drank it. I was prepared to go to juvenile hall if caught, but they would both be gone, worm food, that wonderful ‘dirt nap’. Personally, I had gone out to the sun porch to listen to those incredible Motown Classics on the Hi Fi, Stop in the Name of Love! Thinking I would hear either total quiet from the kitchen or one or the other screaming for help for the one turning that deep purple color…… it was all a complete failure and all I could think it was either affected by being percolated or they did get a bad case of the shits, this would be my first failure. I would have two more attempts using a motor vehicle……… I have always been focused on the “goal”. This may have been a religious intervention, thinking of having to bury them someplace and wait for the other shoe to drop as to the discovery of them both missing. Who would they suspect? Each and every time I would awake and realize this was just one of those incredible fantasies I enjoyed while I slept.

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