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American Psycho-inspired writing

WARNING: THIS IS VERY GRAPHIC

I've been reading American psycho recently as it is one of my favorite movies. Books are almost always better than their screen adaptations but this one blows the screen veron out of the water by far. I'm not a big reader so that may be an exaggeration. But anyway, it inspired me to write a small intro that's in the same style as American Psycho: This morning I find myself in front of my oak-framed, x foot tall mirror, naked and gripping the 20" Dexter butcher knife that I had purchased at a yard sale last week. The knife itself is half rusted with remnants of blood covering the end from the prostitute I effortlessly murdered last night. There's also some off colored fluids on the knife from when I shoved it into her pussy while laughing hysterically. As I stand there I day dream (or perhaps a memory of last night, I'm not sure) of killing the prostitute, chang her around the apartment like a maniac, making loud screaming noises. I eye myself up and down, inspecting every aspect of my body, looking mainly between the knife and my dick. A KISS song called "Heaven's on Fire" (a personal favorite of mine) plays in the background and before I know it the record is on it's last track, which means I've been standing here in my own world for nearly an hour. But because I woke up an entire hour early this morning, time is of no concern to me. There's still flakes of dried blood all over my body and especially my face from when I decided to chew on part of the girls' face. With this I head towards the bathroom to shower but not before I change the album in the record player to another great KISS album, 1983's Lick it Up.

I spend about twenty minutes in the shower. Ten of which are spent just standing under the water, again, in my own world only seeing myself covered in blood running across a field of bodies with Satan on top of a small hill cheering me on. Once I exit the shower I enter my room where the girls' lifeless, distorted corpse still lies on my bed and the entire time that I change into the days' clothes I'm staring at the body, thinking of sever different ways to dismember it, including cooking the meat from ever last ligament. Finally dressed I pick up my briefcase, which, like the suit I am wearing, was covered with a plastic sheet to protect against the mayhem that had ensued last night. As I exit the apartment I come to my guest bedroom door and, for some reason, decide to open the door to glance at the five bodies (three prostitutes, a girl named Tiffany that I know, and a girl I picked up at a club two nights ago) that are strewn about the room, as if worried that something had happened to them. Clong the door, smirking in relief, I leave for the office.

wow, thats some pretty deep shit.

Well the book is quite descriptive in the killings...