Revenge Tragedy Enriches Montreal Morgue by Two Corpses
Yesterday in Montreal, Canada’s capital of crazed killing sprees, Yves Chiffon, aged 36, visited his former workplace, an obscure branch office of the federal government, and sought redress for a decade of petty grievances. As he marched in through the door, a hammer in one hand and a chainsaw in the other, he shouted, “Mock and scorn the hapless bureaucrat no longer! Behold a vengeance more bloody and gruesome than acts three though five of Titus Andronicus!”
Chiffon proceeded to barge into the office of his former manager, Claudette Poumon, who fired him thirteen months ago.
“Claudette, I’m going to entertain myself with your pancreas,” announced Chiffon. Without a second’s pause, he kicked over Ms. Poumon’s chair and hogtied her. Then he instructed her to look into his eyes and witness his pain.
“The sight of you is terrifying,” said Ms. Poumon, aged 45. “I cannot look. I see only my own sorry fate forecast there. Please spare me, Yves! I beg of you!”
Just then, a horde of nervous government workers rushed into the office to try and save Ms. Poumon. But sadly for them, Chiffon had spent the entirety of his unemployed life practicing kung fu, lifting weights, tattooing himself, and developing a murderous rage.
“You fools want to leave this mortal life so soon?” he asked rhetorically, and laughed.
One of the fools in question, a chubby man named Maximillian, approached Chiffon with a computer cable in his hand. He clearly planned to asphyxiate our scorned psychopath by means of strangulation. But with a roundhouse punch from Chiffon, Maximillian was propelled into the air and through the wall. He landed in a contorted heap in the hallway on the other side.
“Hee hee hee!” chortled Chiffon. “Any more takers?”
As it so happened, every member of the horde was willing to take a swift serving of punishment. For the next minute and twelve seconds, the ordinarily placid environs of the office became a melee of thrashing fists and limbs. One particularly unfortunate fellow had his eye gouged out and thrown into a cup of coffee.
Once Chiffon was done defeating everybody, he returned his attention to his nemesis, Ms. Poumon.
“You, Claudette, made me the insatiable ball of hate that you see here today,” he declared.
“Pity me!” said Claudette. “I had to fire you because you contravened Internet usage policy.”
“Internet usage policy be damned!” Chiffon roared, with the ferociousness of a thousand lions. “You made my every working hour an unceasing parade of pettiness and despair. It was like the slow death of a thousand paper-cuts. Remember when you had me write that report, then made me send it to sixteen people, all of whom requested changes, and then I spent March through August revising it, but then the report was eventually shelved, anyway? You Witch Woman, those are seven hundred and nineteen hours of my life that I’ll never get back! For that, you die!”
Chiffon proceeded to prise open Ms. Poumon’s mouth and levered out two of her teeth with his hammer. Then, with his chainsaw, he cut into her torso, which gaped open in a blood-soaked yawn. He ripped out her pancreas and stuffed it into her mouth. Ms. Poumon suffocated to death.
“My bloodlust is not yet satisfied,” yelled Chiffon, with the menace of a giant howler monkey.
He turned to find Ms. Poumon’s divisional supervisor, Henri Foie, standing in the doorway.
“You were once just a frightened little man,” observed Foie, “But now you have the strength and cunning of at least seven ninjas. What has happened?”
“You villain,” bellowed Chiffon. “Because of your tyranny, I was turned down for promotion not once, but three times. Moreover, you slept with my sister Pauline. For this, you die, but only after I’ve put you through unbearable agony.”
Foie attempted to defend himself with an office chair, even successfully beating Chiffon in the chest. But he enjoyed the upper hand for only nine seconds. Chiffon flew through the air at Foie like a vulture descending on a dismembered lamb. His feet struck Foie with such force that both men crashed directly through the floor and onto the floor below. Whereupon Chiffon twisted around Foie’s neck, breaking it.
“You are approaching death, but are not yet morally destroyed!” said Chiffon. “Now I am going to un-man you!”
Chiffon’s hand darted into Mr. Foie’s pants and performed a murderous ritual upon Mr. Foie Jr.
“God sees all,” whimpered Mr. Foie, “And he will wreak a terrible punishment upon you for this.”
Chiffon laughed, and then threw something resembling a piece of chicken gristle into a paper shredder. Blood spattered the walls. Then Chiffon prised out four of Foie’s teeth. Then he chewed off his nose. Then he cut off his head and threw it out of the window. It rolled into la rue Sainte-Catherine and halted an entire lane of traffic.
On the way out of the office, Chiffon spotted a pretty young secretary who was giggling girlishly.
“I know I’m a deranged, blood-drenched murderer, but do you mind if I rob you of your virginity?” asked Chiffon.
Chiffon proceeded to escape with the girl. He now lives in obscurity where no one can find him.
Chiffon proceeded to barge into the office of his former manager, Claudette Poumon, who fired him thirteen months ago.
“Claudette, I’m going to entertain myself with your pancreas,” announced Chiffon. Without a second’s pause, he kicked over Ms. Poumon’s chair and hogtied her. Then he instructed her to look into his eyes and witness his pain.
“The sight of you is terrifying,” said Ms. Poumon, aged 45. “I cannot look. I see only my own sorry fate forecast there. Please spare me, Yves! I beg of you!”
Just then, a horde of nervous government workers rushed into the office to try and save Ms. Poumon. But sadly for them, Chiffon had spent the entirety of his unemployed life practicing kung fu, lifting weights, tattooing himself, and developing a murderous rage.
“You fools want to leave this mortal life so soon?” he asked rhetorically, and laughed.
One of the fools in question, a chubby man named Maximillian, approached Chiffon with a computer cable in his hand. He clearly planned to asphyxiate our scorned psychopath by means of strangulation. But with a roundhouse punch from Chiffon, Maximillian was propelled into the air and through the wall. He landed in a contorted heap in the hallway on the other side.
“Hee hee hee!” chortled Chiffon. “Any more takers?”
As it so happened, every member of the horde was willing to take a swift serving of punishment. For the next minute and twelve seconds, the ordinarily placid environs of the office became a melee of thrashing fists and limbs. One particularly unfortunate fellow had his eye gouged out and thrown into a cup of coffee.
Once Chiffon was done defeating everybody, he returned his attention to his nemesis, Ms. Poumon.
“You, Claudette, made me the insatiable ball of hate that you see here today,” he declared.
“Pity me!” said Claudette. “I had to fire you because you contravened Internet usage policy.”
“Internet usage policy be damned!” Chiffon roared, with the ferociousness of a thousand lions. “You made my every working hour an unceasing parade of pettiness and despair. It was like the slow death of a thousand paper-cuts. Remember when you had me write that report, then made me send it to sixteen people, all of whom requested changes, and then I spent March through August revising it, but then the report was eventually shelved, anyway? You Witch Woman, those are seven hundred and nineteen hours of my life that I’ll never get back! For that, you die!”
Chiffon proceeded to prise open Ms. Poumon’s mouth and levered out two of her teeth with his hammer. Then, with his chainsaw, he cut into her torso, which gaped open in a blood-soaked yawn. He ripped out her pancreas and stuffed it into her mouth. Ms. Poumon suffocated to death.
“My bloodlust is not yet satisfied,” yelled Chiffon, with the menace of a giant howler monkey.
He turned to find Ms. Poumon’s divisional supervisor, Henri Foie, standing in the doorway.
“You were once just a frightened little man,” observed Foie, “But now you have the strength and cunning of at least seven ninjas. What has happened?”
“You villain,” bellowed Chiffon. “Because of your tyranny, I was turned down for promotion not once, but three times. Moreover, you slept with my sister Pauline. For this, you die, but only after I’ve put you through unbearable agony.”
Foie attempted to defend himself with an office chair, even successfully beating Chiffon in the chest. But he enjoyed the upper hand for only nine seconds. Chiffon flew through the air at Foie like a vulture descending on a dismembered lamb. His feet struck Foie with such force that both men crashed directly through the floor and onto the floor below. Whereupon Chiffon twisted around Foie’s neck, breaking it.
“You are approaching death, but are not yet morally destroyed!” said Chiffon. “Now I am going to un-man you!”
Chiffon’s hand darted into Mr. Foie’s pants and performed a murderous ritual upon Mr. Foie Jr.
“God sees all,” whimpered Mr. Foie, “And he will wreak a terrible punishment upon you for this.”
Chiffon laughed, and then threw something resembling a piece of chicken gristle into a paper shredder. Blood spattered the walls. Then Chiffon prised out four of Foie’s teeth. Then he chewed off his nose. Then he cut off his head and threw it out of the window. It rolled into la rue Sainte-Catherine and halted an entire lane of traffic.
On the way out of the office, Chiffon spotted a pretty young secretary who was giggling girlishly.
“I know I’m a deranged, blood-drenched murderer, but do you mind if I rob you of your virginity?” asked Chiffon.
Chiffon proceeded to escape with the girl. He now lives in obscurity where no one can find him.
posted by Laurence Miall at 12:36 PM
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