Lullaby



 

 


LULLABY


 


 


BY


JASON TERHUNE


 


 


 


You ask me why I do the things that I do.


The answer is a simple one, because I can.


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 
 INTRO:


 


 
 “Do with this as thou will, stash it in your basement, bury it, burn it, or release it.”


 


 Erin Tullis… you know that your name hasn’t crossed my lips in damn near twenty years, shit maybe even longer. Sadly, I highly doubt that you can say that about my name as of late. I truly do hope that no reporters or any of those types have tried to bother you in any way. After everything that happened, those bastards have tried to look into every aspect of my life from birth till this moment. At this point I don’t think there is any damn tree out there that those fucks haven’t tried to bark up.


 Hey, when we were kids I always did tell you that one day I would become famous. Now I am quite certain that we both thought that it would be from something else. Fuck it though, I will take my fifteen minutes’ of fame, it is more than most people get. To be real the whole thing is actually pretty cool, in my opinion. Yeah, yeah I know that I probably shouldn’t say that but fuck it, it’s true. I also remember telling you that one day people would worship me, listen to every word that I say; well look at all of the minions that I have out there now. The system is terrified of future copy cats, future versions of me, as they should be. I say that they will just be a bunch of amateurs; I am still flattered, none the same.


 I am left to wonder why it is that I have written this to you. On the real, I have no clue if you have, or ever will, read any of this. I wouldn’t blame you if you chose not to read it all. Hell, it’s hard enough for me to write; I can’t imagine reading all of this. I guess I am writing you because I have no one else to tell all of this to, no one else to confess my so- called “sins” to.


 I want to say that I am sorry right off, Erin. Some of the shit that I am going to tell you in this letter is pretty fucked up. In truth some of this shit may possibly give you nightmares. I am sorry, I have to tell someone my story, I am sorry that it just turned out to be you. You my love, are the only person who crossed my mind when I decided to write this. If you do decide to read this, do with it what you will. Maybe one day if you put this in the right hands, people can figure out just why it is that I am the way that I am.


 Fuck, I don’t even know myself, let alone why it is I am the way that I am, why I have my desires, if you will. My honest to goodness hope is that by writing this all out and sending it to you, maybe I will figure out the answer to a few of the questions that I have about myself. Once I know a few of the answers, maybe all of these damn shrinks will get off of my back. You know Erin, everyone thinks that I have some sort of profound reasoning for doing all of the shit that I did. The truth is, there is no reason that I can think of; I just fucking did it.


 You know, I was thinking about something. Right now I may just be the most famous person to ever come out of Sioux City. Tommy Bolin be damned; there is a new celebrity in town. Put my picture up at the Milwaukee Weiner House. I always did think it was crazy how everyone in Sioux City not only idolized, but seemed to worship the memory of that man. There have been a lot of great musicians that have come out of the Sewer, great people in general.


 Now I am certain that I will not be remembered as one of those greats. Well let me rephrase that; I will be remembered as one of the greats within certain circles. Shit, I am pretty sure that I may be remembered as Satan himself. Soon fools will be going to my childhood home acting as if it’s haunted by the ghost of my victims. Victims… you know, I have never considered any of my so-called victims “victims,” if you will. No, I liberated each and every one of them. We will get into all of that later though. At this early point, this may be a touchy subject. Patience, grasshopper.


 So I saw from your Facebook page that you got married and had a few kids. That little girl of yours is so your damn mini me. As for me, it’s that same old story; I can tell you that I don’t have any kids out there. Yet if one were to pop up, I wouldn’t be surprised at all. If I do have any rug rats out there, I figure its best at this point that they reside in the shadows. I am not quite sure that the legacy or the inheritance that I have left for them would be one they would want. Then again, who knows; they may be able to score some money off of my name.


 It’s fucking crazy, Erin; people keep sending me mail in here. Fucking freaks all want autographs; they throw me five or ten bucks and an envelope with a stamp and address already on it. You should see all of the naked photos some of these bitches are sending, hell even some dudes. Don’t get jealous; you will