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Diary of... well... ah screw this.

Never been much of a diary person myself, but I have to write this down, because it is much too weird. If I don't record this and have something tangible in my hands, I will probably end up dismissing this as a bad dream.

Been looking for jobs. Almost five years now, since I had my last actual job. That shitty thing with the hearing aids. Been canvassing the job portals with less and less hope as time passes by.

Found a job on Craigslist last week.

Thought it was a joke at first. Let me quote: "Need a job? Tired of counting money and hiding from the landlord? You have come to the right place. Become an asset for the flower of society, by weeding the soil. Strong physical condition required, must be a fast runner."

I red that offer several times and thought, "Well, why not? I am okay with plants. I could probably deal with a bit of weeding, I can handle an ax or something. Gardening is soothing for the soul, lots of fresh air and sun..."

Let me tell you, it was the most confusing interview I have ever been in.

When I mean "confusing", I mean the "is there a hidden camera somewhere?"- type of confusing.

They wanted to know all kinds of things. How fast I can run, how I can handle swinging motions with elongated objects, for example Axes. Wanted to know if I had ever done sports and handled some kind of tool there. Like Golf Clubs, Cricket Bats, Baseball Bats, Hockey sticks, that sort of thing.

So there I am telling them that, yes, I have played some Baseball and am quite handy with the axe, still wondering, what the hell that has to do with gardening? I mean, the axe is kinda close to the topic, but the Baseball bat? So I keep wondering, if maybe it is about team spirit and maybe...I don't know, transport of seeds via tossing?

When suddenly, boom, they tell me, that I have been the most promising candidate by a long shot, and what I think about punishing people that deserve it.

I remember staring at them in bewilderment, wondering what they expect me to answer. Like "to hell with the wicked" was probably not going to get me hired, right? Neither was probably the fairly common "It's not my business to toss the first stone" reply. Because, frankly, that didn't agree with my feelings.

I mean, if I am being honest, I really, REALLY feel that sometimes, I want to punch people's lights out.

Like for example in the supermarket. There is that last package of chips just waiting in the shelf and just before I can take it, there comes a grubby claw out of nowhere, snatching it away from me and tossing it into an overly full basket, that has about ten others, explaining perfectly well, what happened to the rest and why there is a shortage.

Or that shithead in the parking lot, that quickly slides his fucking car in the spot, just as you are reversing into it, nearly shearing off the butt of your car and sneering at you in delight?

Or the kind of asshole family, that dumps their trash all over the meadow in the park and just leaves.

Sometimes, I really want to beat the living shit out of them and to hell with all consequences.

So I am like... "Well... Sometimes people deserve what they get. And if it measures the crime or if they are a blight on society, then they should be weeded..." I trail off, suddenly having the illumination of a lifetime.

My heart rate goes up, I am super excited for a moment. Then logic kicks in. Nah, it is a weird interview, but it can't be that kind. That is just a stupid idea.

So I finish with "They should be weeded out, I think. Best leave it to people that can deal with that."

Just to be on the safe side, you know?

You can probably imagine my surprise, when they stood up, came around the desk and shook my hands to congratulate me.

Now here's the kicker. They explained to me what I am supposed to do.

I am supposed to work as an asset of society, that kills people that are a blight.

Well, that is not too unusual. I guess, there are jobs for everyone, right? Someone's gotta do it!

The thing is this: It is supposed to happen by beating them to death with a stop sign.

Let me say that again: My new job is to kill people by beating them to death with a STOP sign.

God, it sounds even more ridiculous being spelled out.

It's supposed to be a message to society, I think. As in "Stop being such shitty assholes or you will end up like this idiot here!"

The stop signs are supposed to stay on the sight. Preferably sticking out of the corpse somehow, or left close by, if the former cannot be achieved.

I have re-read this and I still cannot quite believe, that it was not a hallucination. It sounds like one. It reads like one. But there, right next to my PC is a stack of ten signs. It's the red and white kind with capital letters and eight corners.

I have to keep them right there next to my pc, because I keep thinking, that I just imagined the entire thing. But to see them there, clean and pristine, with their letters reflecting the light of the ceiling lamps, it is a tangible proof, that I did at least not hallucinate those.

Or if I did, it was the most bountiful, crazy trip I have ever done.

Tomorrow is going to be the first appointment. I am supposed to pick my own target. Only condition is, that they have to be a blight on humanity.

We'lWill see, what's going to happen.

*

Holy hairy fluffballs, I think, I am going crazy!

Been walking and driving along the streets all day, still totally uncertain if I am going nuts or if I really should do it. There is all sorts of shit going on in my brain about bad conscience and "thou shall not kill" vs "but those shitheads deserve it!" and "who am I to judge" vs. "Who else is going to do anything about it? We can't all just look away!"

It was almost midnight and I had talked myself into an absolute wreck and had just decided todecided, to let it rest for the night and think about it in the morning.

Just then, one of those shitheads triggered me.

It happened on the highway. Was driving along, mind already going through what kind of sandwich I wanted for dinner, when that ancient looking pickup slides in front of me, so close, that I have to break. And then instantly, he slams down on the pedals himself, trying to trigger a collision.

I was so shocked, that I left skid-marks on the asphalt that reach from here to Denver. And when I pull away and try to drive off, that idiot actually accelerates and places himself right in front of me on a goddamn empty highway, and slams the breaks again.

At this point, I was so fucking mad, that I jumped out of the car, rushed forward and pulled him out of the driver's seat, before he could get away.

Before I knew, what I was doing, I dragged him back to my car, grabbed the Stop-sign and whacked the shit out of him for trying to get a new pickup truck for nothing.

My mind sort of went out to the families he might have endangered, the people he may have killed, just because this shithead of a person is too fucking cheap to get a new truck and tries to trick his way into a new car by doing an insurance fraud.

I started yelling at him, whacking him solidly with the stop sign the entire time. I don't even remember, what I yelled, just that he should stop being such a cheap-ass bastard.

When I was finally able to breathe again, the sign was bloody. There was...something on the floor, next to the stupid, fucking pick-up truck. It didn't...necessarily look human anymore.

To finish the contract, I broughtbring the sign down one last time, somewhere between the piles of mess on the asphalt. It stuck.

Then, just to soothe my own nerves, I wrote a message, describing, what this piece of shit has done and that someone needed to put a stop to his deeds.

I drove off fast after that, trying to get away, but also almost painfully aware of all street signs, traffic signals and speed limits.

Wouldn't want to draw attention to myself.

When I came home, I took a shower and checked the internet.

Sure enough, someone found it and posted it.

Braced myself for the worst, the inevitable. Shouts of betrayal and visions of lynch mobs vivid in my head.

It didn't happen. The public outcry is surprisingly good. There are people, that say things like "about time, someone did something" and other encouraging messages.

Found myself rather heartened by them. Will keep an eye on things.

*

Been a week now. Two more deaths.

Small groups have appeared on Facebook, where they discuss people, who would also deserve a public thrashing. Child molesters and rapists are chin to chin with the idiot boss from work, the obnoxious Karen in the supermarket and racists, as well as SJWs.

Strange. But encouraging, to say the least.

*

Two months, ten victims.

Small superhero comics have appeared on the internet. They call me "Stop That Shit You Idiot" or "STYSI", which doesn't quite match the sentence, but no-one seems to mind or care.

Funds and support groups, as well as one or two public attempts at fundraising have appeared.

They think, that Stysi is going to be a real life superhero.

Starting to feel like one too. Too bad I can't claim the funds. But my salary has doubled, as has my stack of stop-signs.

I think, somehow the company that I work for, is taking a profit from this and is passing it along to me through whatever channels.

Melikes!

*

Whew. It has been a little over half a year now.

Stysi has his own comic strip. There are rumors of a movie and several books have appeared.

Paparazzi are trying their best to spot Stysi or find out, who he is.

The public is by now so much on their guard, that it is almost impossible to go out and punish people.

It doesn't matter. Several Stysi copycats have appeared and do their best to carry on my work.

The company has tripled my salary, the stack of Stop-signs has vanished. I think, I have been retired.

*

Yet another month. Time flies by!

The salary kept coming. I think, that my employer is somehow involved in the merch.

Little Stysi action figurines have appeared.

Bought myself a little one today. It is in bright red, with the letters STOP printed on the chest. Quite the ripped guy too. There is a ninja-turtles kind of mask on his face and he wears a cape, that flaps impressively behind him. And when you press a button, it actually speaks "Stop that shit, you idiot!" in a commanding voice.

This is SO AWESOME!

*

A year now since I started.

Yep, I am retired, but still getting a salary, that keeps increasing proportionally with the fame and the legend, that carries on.

Thought, that I may have a bad conscience what with all the murders and things.

But society has changed.

Since idiocy is getting punished by death, less people are daring to do it. There are no more obnoxious customers and ass-holy people.

Stysi has become an international hero, with two movies, seventeen books and a vast number of comic strips under his red and white belt.

I think, I did good.