Why They Call Me Spotty

    Joseph walked up to the house, not thinking about much of anything
in particular. He rubbed the back of his head absent-minded, and thought
that it felt different, but payed no attention to it. He unlocked and
opened his front door, walking in without a care. David wasn’t even home,
and Joseph knew he wasn’t coming home yet. He knew David better than that.
     Joseph went to the bathroom to wash his face, then started thinking back to the memories, starting to laugh at the way Spotty acted. Was he really
singing “Don’t Cha”? Joseph shook his head, chuckling, then his face became deadpan after one look in the mirror; something had changed, not something
he wanted. Joseph stepped out of the bathroom and pulled out his ID,
checking to see if he was hallucinating or not. After seeing the same face
he had in his memory on the ID, he figured is was a momentary Freudian
slip, and reentered the bathroom. Again, he was seeing something new.
    ”The damn hair! No! Not my hair, what the hell?!”
    Joseph ran his fingers through his now short and naturally coloured
hair. It hand been long and blond for so long that Joseph was having a hard
time believing it was his own reflection. Spotty cut his hair last night,
and now the memories slipped in as to why.
    The night before, Spotty had preserved the body with formaldehyde.
He set it up in a way that the morgue where he dropped it off at would be
impressed. But he had been seen, and any suspicion would not be of any help
to Joseph, nor Spotty. When Spotty got into his apartment, he cut off all
of the blond hair. It was smart, and now Joseph remembered seeing the new
haircut in the video, but at the time he thought it was just tucked into
the beret. Joseph touched his hair, not sure what to think. He looked like
a little kid, so he grabbed David’s hair gel and began styling his hair. He
had fluffed his hair and brushed it to the side, still able to not draw
much attention to himself. Though not pleased with the non consulting part
of Spotty’s plan, Joseph wasn’t exactly upset over the way his hair looked.
There was then a knock at the door; it was odd, seeing as how no one really
came over unless David was home.
    He walked to the door and cracked it open, unusually calm about it.
There he saw the girl from the other night. She had a plate of cookies,
looking friendly, but Joseph quickly shut the door and yelled.
    ”Sorry! I’m busy with normal people things!”
    He shook his head in confusion to his own statement, then kind of
laughed, but blushed nervously. She found him, and she brought cookies?
What if she was a psychopath and wanted to bond over cookies and murder
stories? He sat for a long time, then heard the doorbell. He nearly
screamed, then got up and opened the door slightly. She was still there,
confused.
    ”Hello,” she said sweetly, “are you still busy?”
    He nearly screamed, but opened the door all the way, letting her
in. She walked past Joseph, then told him why she was there.
    ”I just moved in next door. I wanted to meet the neighbors, and I
made cookies. I’m sorry, what was your name? I forget to ask these things
sometimes. I’m Dani. Am I rambling?”
    Joseph just stood, confused. She didn’t recognize him. The haircut
actually made a difference. He smiled, then asked her to sit down on the
couch.
    ”I’m Joseph Alexander Germino. I live with David Armstrong. You say
you moved in next door?”
    She smiled, and handed him a cookie. She said her name was Dani
Pepper, then realized she had said her first name already. She laughed and
blushed, covering her mouth. Joseph looked at her, seeing the sweet girl
from the store become a neighbor and a friend right in front of him. He
nibbled on his cookie, then smiled slightly. He felt comfortable around
her, but felt like he should be careful at the same time. He decided that
she was going to be a good person to have as a neighbor.
    Dani got up to leave after a few minutes of silence and cookie
eating. Joseph walked her out and thanked her for the cookies, and told her
that he was glad to have met her. He wished her a good day, then closed the
door, noticing now that she left two papers on the coffee table. He picked
them up, realizing that she had left him an introduction about herself, her
contact details, and hours of availability. Joseph could do nothing but
laugh and keep the information. He smiled, pulled out his phone, and began
adding her number and e-mail when he noticed two missed calls and a
voicemail.
    After listening to the pocket dial that David had left for Joseph,
it was evident that David was not yet coming back; he was still on vacation
and was having quite a bit of fun. The fact that David was happy made
Joseph smile. It wasn’t often that he got to hear David laugh like that.
Joseph sat down on the couch and turned on the television, deciding to
relax. The doorbell rang again, causing Joseph to jump. It struck him only
now that he was acting so odd. He walked over and opened the door,
expecting to see Dani, but instead there stood a man in a long brown coat
putting out a cigarette, some stubble, and higher cheekbones. He held up a
badge and asked if Joseph’s parents were home.
    ”Uhh, no, I don’t live with them. I live with my friend, David,
who’s currently on vacation. May I ask what’s going on, Officer….”
    ”Demonne. Elliot Demonne. Detective, by the way. And please,
don’t say anything about the way I just sounded like a wannabe James Bond
on how I said my name. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
    As he said that, the detective sipped coffee from a cup in his
opposite hand from the smoking hand. It was apparent that the detective was left handed, being that he held his drink in the left and his smoke in the
right. One would have to light the cigarette with the dominant hand, and
hold the smoke with the opposite. Joseph looked at Elliot for a second,
then raised his finger to ask again what he was there for, when Elliot
pushed past him into the house.
    ”Um, excuse me, detective, but I never got an answer. I would like
to know why you’re here.”
    Every nerve in Joseph’s body was crying and burning. Had he already
been caught? No, Spotty had this covered.
    ”Well, Joseph,” Elliot read the name out of a portfolio he held, “my partner and I have been separated because while following one case
through here, two murders with similar MO’s have come up, and I was put on
the case. As it turns out, you were a student of the first victim, so I
have to interview you. It may be a bit bullshit, but it’s my job.”
    Joseph stood, staring at the detective who was then sitting on his
couch. Joseph went from being in a really good mood to being nervous, this
couldn’t be good for the insanity. He walked in a circle twice, then asked
if the detective would like any coffee. Detective Demonne gave Joseph an
odd look, then lifted up his coffee, indicating that he was fine.
    ”Are you always this squirrely, Joseph?”
    Joseph nodded, then told the detective that he was shy and was
uncomfortable being interviewed, be it for anything, then grabbed a kitchen
chair and sat in the living room near the detective. The questions seemed
simple enough, but the detective also seemed deprived of sleep and not very
interested in the case.
    ”So, did you know the teacher? Well, yes, you did, you were his
student, blah blah blah. Okay, so, it was said that he forced children to
get undressed for him. We see this as a possible motive. Did he ever force
you to undress? I’d like an honest answer, by the way.”
    Joseph looked at the detective for a moment. “Well, actually, no. This isn’t the first that I’ve heard of it, but I didn’t think of that
being a motive, to be honest.” Joseph felt his own bullshit detector start
flaring, knowing that it was Spotty’s main motive.
    ”Well, I thought you were some sort of genius, but I guess even
simple things can be overlooked, Joseph.”
    The detective gave Joseph a rather sassy look, then went back to
reading the questions off of his paper. He asked a few more simple
questions, then set the paper down and looked at Joseph.
    ”Listen, this guy is smart. He definitely isn’t a first timer. He
burnt the body with lye and filled the room with a toxic gas that just so
happens to clean. We can’t tell when he brought the guy in because he cut
the security some time earlier that day, in the morning. We can’t tell when
he was killed because of all of the chemical damage to his body. We almost
didn’t see the cuts, which if we didn’t see them, we would have thought
that this guy was some sort of fucking magician because no one reported
screams!”
    The detective was getting really worked up about the case, as if he
had been working on it for a long time, though it had only been a few days.
Joseph could tell that Elliot Demonne was over worked from his previous
case and is now pissed off because of this seemingly petty case that is
batshit crazy difficult to get any witnesses for.  Joseph sat quietly for a
moment, then started to speak, but the detective cut him off.
    ”Listen, you seem to shocked in the way I’m speaking to be any
suspect and obviously you aren’t a witness to either the first or the
second murder. I’m just going to leave now.”
    Just as he said, the detective got up and left, not bothering to
give Joseph a card. Not knowing what had happened, Joseph locked his front
door and sat on the couch. Was Spotty listening to any of that? Why wasn’t
there any commentary? Joseph stared at his own hands. He wondered just how bad he was going to depend on Spotty now that things were stirred up in a
chaotic way. Joseph stared at his hands, then said aloud,
    ”Order depends on the role of chaos. Without one, balance can not
be found. I need my chaos.”
    In his hands, he saw Spotty’s face begin to form. Step one was
acceptance.

    Joseph woke up, shaking himself off of his nightmares. He hadn’t
yet even opened his eyes, but he was already wishing that he had never woke up. The bed was comfortable and everything else was going to shit. He knew
the night before had been cleaned up, everything was fixed so he wasn’t at
the scene. He considered pretending it was a nightmare, then his phone
began to ring. He squeezed his eyelids and cringed, before beginning to
cry. He feared the worst; was it the police, had they found out it was him?
Do they want him for questioning? Joseph wrenched one eye open, everything was blurred in front of him. He answered without checking the call, still sobbing, not really saying a word.
    “Joseph… Hello? Is that you? What’s wrong?”
    It was Jeremy. He was calling to check up on Joseph, or perhaps to
see if he knew. His voice was stressed, so obviously he knew about the
murder. Joseph’s mind was firing off quickly with his psychology studies.
    “Hey, Jeremy. No, sorry, I’m fine, it’s the TV. What’s up?”
    Jeremy explained what happened to Mr. Brahma. He didn’t seem happy
about it; almost as if it had been a tragedy.
    (What the fuck is his problem? We killed the bastard in his name)
    Joseph began to feel queasy upon hearing Spotty’s thoughts. He
pushed them down, ignoring them. Jeremy had begun to cry, but Joseph didn’t
know how to handle that much. He knew what he was supposed to do, but he himself was about to crack completely. He hung up and turned his phone off, feigning his phone dying. Joseph walked to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. It was as if a different person was looking back; the cheekbones
seemed shaded, there seemed to be a smirk on his face. Then something
happened. His reflection stood up. The man in the mirror began to change,
but kept the same skin on his face. It grinned at Joseph, a sharp, toothy
sneer of a grin, the smile of a madman. It threw it’s head back and
laughed, though no sound came out. Everything became blurred, then black.
    Joseph was sitting in the middle of the floor of a room unfamiliar
to him. The room was rather bare; no tables, no chairs, no bed, nothing
except a wardrobe, two doors, and a window that had been boarded up. And a television on a stand, a VCR on top with “watch” written in red lipstick
across the plastic face of the VCR.
    He didn’t move, he just sat, staring at the television, hoping
something would happen. Suddenly, it turned on; a visual of his own face-
no, Spotty’s face came onto the face of the TV. His grin lit up on the
screen, his black makeup around the eyes, the huge spot around his right
eye.
    “Good morning, sleepyhead! I kind of figured that you wouldn’t turn
this on, so I did it myself.”
    Spotty scooted away from the camera, showing him in an Indian-squat
style of sitting, knees to his chest.
    “Now, you’re probably wondering where your day went, aye?” He
leaned his face in, inquisitive. “Well, sorry to say, but I sorta drugged
you. No worries, though! It was herbal!” He sprung up, almost like an
excited child. “Now, listen. There are a few things to say. I didn’t kill
any of your friends. I won’t do that, trust me. Too obvious.” He gave the
camera a childishly sheepish smile, trying to look cute, then lied back,
knees still up, talking louder so the camera would pick it up.
    “I visited Jeremy, pretending to be you. I needed to clear things
up.”
    Joseph tried to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse crack of
the word “No.”
    “Oh, come, Joey. I told you I didn’t do a damn thing to hurt your
friends. No, I just told him to talk to the cops and be honest about what
happened. It’s the greatest alibi; a boy who needed help, so we were there,
not at the murder.”
    Spotty sat up, looking directly into the camera.
    “I was spot on, wasn’t I? I knew how you were going to react. Part
of the perils of sharing your brain with me. You’ll also keep the memories
I make, vice versa. But I’ve got you on some herbal mixture right now,
opium and some other natural shit. I got it from the apothecary that used
to squat in the apartment next to this. Well, I killed him, so, no more of
that. I took his money and payed for this one. Aren’t you proud of me?”
    Spotty closed one of his hands over the other, brought it to his
chin, grinned, and fluttered his eyelashes.
    “Probably the last true apothecary here in Stockton, but it’s not
like he was famous. Anyway, I was followed, so I couldn’t go to your house.
Well, I say followed. I brought some guy here and slept with him. He was
fun. We played, then when he was all tuckered out, I played.”
    A memory shot into Joseph’s mind; Spotty’s memory.
    There were lights, and music. It was late. A dance club. Spotty got
into a dance club. He was sitting at the bar, only having a water, telling
the bartender that he didn’t have enough for a beer. That was bull shit,
Joseph had been strapped a couple of days ago, and the apothecary wasn’t
too poor, either. Spotty walked over to a guy who’s girlfriend just walked
away; presumedly to use the restroom. He leaned in and said something to
the guy, Joseph couldn’t remember what. The guy laughed, then turned
towards the bar and sipped his beer. A bit of time skipped, Joseph couldn’t
make out this blur of memory, but he could hear Spotty singing “Girlfriend”
by Avril Lavigne.
    Suddenly, Joseph could remember Spotty pressing the guy against the
wall in an ally-way, kissing and groping him. The girl who walked away from
the guy wasn’t going to the bathroom- she broke up with him. Spotty took
this guy back to his apartment, where the guy mentioned that he was
straight and had never done this before. Spotty threw him on the floor,
beginning to undress himself, this guy watching. Some of the memory became
a blur again, but he could hear Spotty’s voice singing “Don’t Cha” by the
Pussy Cat Dolls, but heavily, as if winded or while moving something. The
memories started to clear up again and he could see the man from the bar on
the floor in a sheet, no top on, breathing heavily, then Spotty’s visual
looks down into his hand. Joseph could see that only boxer briefs were on
Spotty, and he was holding a knife. Suddenly, the knife was plunged into
the man’s stomach while punching and holding closed his throat. The man
tried to fight back, but Spotty’s knees were on the man’s shoulders. To
anyone in any other apartment near, it just sounded like more sex. The man
stopped moving, but Spotty’s fist remained on the windpipe a bit longer.
    “Joseph, snap out of it, back to me. It’s all about me.”
    Joseph looked up to the TV, blushing with anger.
    “Oh, Joseph, that’s cute. Listen, I cleaned up the body. You need
to get home. David comes home today. Speak about me to no one- I exist for
you, and you damn well better get used to it. I left a change of clothes
and money in the bathroom. Get home and wait for David. He said he may come
home today. I’m not sure, though.”
    Joseph stood up and ran into the bathroom, stumbling. He didn’t
know why he knew which door was the bathroom, but then he saw a plastic tub
in there and memories flashed into his head.
    The man’s body was in the bath tub, not the polyurethane tub, but
some mixture was being made inside the plastic tub. Some chemicals that
wound up soaking into the body, including formaldehyde. The body was
preserved, looking nice, and cleaned of any evidence. It was stitched up,
made for an open casket funeral. Spotty had shown respect for the man he
killed.
    Joseph had walked to blocks away from the apartments to the 7/11 to
order a taxi. There was a man there who was staring at Joseph. Joseph
didn’t know what to do, so he smiled at the man.
    “You go to Lincoln High School, don’t you, kid?”
    Joseph nodded slowly, unsure of what to think.
    “Can you direct me to the school?”
    Joseph realized he was wearing an LHS shirt, so he smiled and
pointed down the street, and said to make a left at Ben Holt. The taxi
pulled up just then, and Joseph shuddered, not knowing why, and rode home.

    Brahma’s windows opened to let his mind register a new sight. Above him, a sharp smile and dark eyes hung in the air, burning into Brahma’s mind. He started to lift his heavy hand to reach for the image, when suddenly it flew up and back, now above a neck connected to a torso, and of course the body. Dimly, the hood of a head silhoutted behind eyes and teeth tilted slightly forward.
    “Awake, are we?”
    The voice was new but not unfamiliar. It was a voice stolen and changed, borrowed and edited. A voice that didn’t belong but was all too fitting.
    “Good, I was getting impatient,” the voice broke any train of thought. “An instructor such as yourself should be ashamed at coming so late, now, shouldn’t you?”
    The teeth and eyes dropped, right to Brahma’s nose. Before anything, he could see that there was nothing around the right eye, but a face all where else the face should be. No, that wasn’t right, that was a mistake. It was paint. The burly Australian voice broke again.
    “You were a chore to bring in, almost not worth the damn, mm? You’re a sick one, aren’t you? And you wonder who this sick nightmare above you is.”
    Spotty grinned down at Brahma, sensing his disdain and his fear. The madman jumped up quickly and howled, loudly, breaking any wolf’s spirit in strength. A power surged through him. Something with a name. Life. Yes, life; a beginning of vitae, flesh with a new order, conciounceness and a new essence. And oh, did it feel good. But the fun hadn’t even begun. Facing away from Brahma, Spotty flexed his being, imitating a bear.
    “Uh, excuse my interruption of your fun, but who the fuck are you?”
    Spotty turned to see Brahma regaining some  strength. He smiled and jumped onto a desk, sitting like a gargoyle and stretching his neck out to stare into Brahma’s mind.
    “Right, I’m sorry. Excuse me,” Spotty began, a tune churning into his voice. “Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste,”
    He stood up on the desk, standing like a proper gentleman.
    “I’ve been around for a long long year, and plan to steal a soul today,” he sung while hopping from the desk to the counter, still standing, “PLEASE TO MEET YOU, WON’T YOU GUESS MY NAME. What’s puzzling you is the nature of this game.”
    He pivoted to Brahma’s animated face and chuckled at his song.
    “I’ll give you a hint, think dogs-“
    “I won’t play your game, you psycopath,” Brahma interjected quickly, as if anticipating. His lines were early, Spotty observed.
    “Come on, just look at my face-“
    “I’ll yell, I swear. Who are you?”
    Spotty frowned. He was no fun as a victim. Brahma was most definitely a chore. Suddenly, a grin lit on Spotty’s face.
    “Play my game, then you’ll know. If you don’t, you won’t like how the night will go.”
    Brahma shrank, became small and weak. No longer could he fight the bear.
    “I don’t know… Blondie?”
    Spotty jumped down and grabbed Brahma’s face and shook it slightly.
    “No! Try again. My face, a dog. Think, think!”
    Brahma began to shiver, almost cry. The windows began to fog, the speaker was breathing white noise.
    “Say my name! Say it!”
    Brahma looked into this grinning face filled with rage, then found the name; it was what wasn’t there in the beginning.
    “Spotty! Your name is Spotty! It’s Spotty… Spotty, it’s Spotty…” Brahma’s voice trailed, mumbling the name.
    “Good sport! Now sit up and listen, we have just begun. I brought you here for a reason. It’s the scene of the crime, and j’accuse!” Spotty stood suddenly with his beret tilted more, making him look even more French.
    “You broke a rule that even I wouldn’t cross. In some cultures, molestation is a crime punishable by death. Do you know what they do, Brahma?” He leaned in, his teeth only an inch from Brahma’s nose.
    “They take a rope,” Spotty held a thick noose next to Brahma’s cheek, “and they hang the mmolestor over a cliff. Not by the feet, not by the neck. Guess what they choose, Brahma. Go on, guess!”
    Brahma couldn’t speak. His throat tightened; not even breath could escape.
    “The genitalia, Brahma. Not one part or the other, they tie it around the base of the penis and the sack is hanged, too. They hang them by a cliff. You’d think that it would rip off, but they give slight support by tying a rope underneath both arms and lifting just enough to hold the weight from ripping the genitalia clean off. They leave them in the sun, Walter. For a week. Then they cut the support.”
    Brahma wasn’t looking into Spotty’s eyes any longer. He was trying to scoot away.
    “Why are you telling me this? I don’t see why I would have to know that. You have to let me go now.”
    Spotty stood up and pushed onto Brahma’s chest with the ball of his foot. He had begun to chuckle again. He pressed hard, pushing some air out of Brahma’s lungs, the lies with it. Spotty stepped back and grabbed a riding crop off the counter, which was hidden under a black bag, then stood at attention, saluting as a Nazi.
    “Finden Sie listen! Als Ihr Ausbilder und Strafenden, werde ich dich von deinem Tod zu informieren. Es wird nicht anders als ein Jude den Tod sein. Chemische Kriegsführung ist immer der Stärkste!”
    He grabbed a beaker with powdered sodium hydroxide in it, and poured it on Brahma, letting it get into his shirt, his pants, all over his skin and in his hair. Spotty grabbed a bucket, pre filled with water. Immediately, Brahma was able to move again, he was squirming around, screaming. It was too soon, Spotty knew, but the screams were too loud, so he doused Brahma in vinegar, soothing the burns, pausing the pain. He pulled a folding knife from his pocket and pressed the point against Walter’s chest, like a key sitting outside of the lock.
    “Agus leis an eochair is féidir liom deireadh do pian agus solas nua a oscailt,” he whispered, then pressed the key into the heart of the damned. Brahma screamed, the knife had missed by a hair. Spotty pulled the knife out and reentered it into the vocal cords through the wind pipe, then filleted the throat. He saw the breath of the soulless leave Brahma, then knew what must be done. Spotty grabbed a little tape player from the black bag on the counter and hit play, turning on Vivaldi’s Violin Concerto in A Minor. He proceeded to pull ammonia and bleach from the bag. He began using the bleach to clean the lye and blood, as well as any fingerprints of his. He poured zinc into the stab wounds and cuts to mask the metal fragments of a knife. He cleaned up the rest with ammonia, then set Brahma’s body into coffin form. As Spotty left the spotless room, he poured the remaining bleach into the bottle of ammonia, creating chloramine, which soaked into the walls, making the room nearly impossible to reenter for at least a week.
    Joseph regained control while driving home from renting an apartment. He knew everything he had done and it made him sick. The worst part was that he enjoyed it. On the way back, he decided to stop by a store to pick up eggs, which helped bring normalcy to his messed up mind. While there, he was in a trance, walking straight and zombie like. He was like this until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He nearly screamed, but he turned and saw the friendly face of a teenage girl. He nearly cried for being afraid of her.
    “Excuse me, but are you okay? You seem to be pretty shaken, not to mention your hands are bandaged. Were you hurt?” She had a sweet voice, something Joseph though he would never hear again. He simply shook his head and told her he was busy, but he appreciated her concern. He bought the eggs and began driving home. The incident with the girl really shook Joseph worse than the murder it’s self, only because she felt sympathy for him. He felt he didn’t deserve that. He felt that she didn’t deserve to have to have met him. Joseph pulled into the driveway, then hobbled into the house. He walked to the bathroom and locked the door, then splashed cold water on his face a few times. Joseph looked at himself in the mirror. His face was smeared with shock and stained with blood. He looked slowly down at his hands , which were also stained with blood, but also burnt from contact with caustic chemicals. Joseph took one more look in the mirror and puked.
    After cleaning the sink out, he began a shower, thinking about what happened. He didn’t seem upset about the murder, which upset him. He felt good to know that something about it upset him.
    “Come on, it wasn’t bad. He was bad.”
    The voice seemed to come from nowhere yet everywhere. It was frightening, familiar. He knew immediately something bad was happening.
    “Joseph, it’s not like he deserved to live. We cleaned it up, we set him properly. What’s the fuss? Is it the apartment?”
    At this point, Joseph had gone into shock. He got out of the shower and went to bed, still wet, the shower still running. The nightmares didn’t surprise him, but they were what he didn’t want them to be.

    It had been several days since the facade with Timothy had
occurred. Joseph was back in school, and the schedule had been changed
again. In the high-school that Joseph and David attended, schedule
changes were not uncommon, but this was the last of the year. There was
a new teacher at the school that year, and Joseph had only heard about
him during the school year, never had he even seen him.
    He stepped into the new classroom a tad early, but he was glad
to see that he wasn’t the first student, he was able to avoid any
awkward conversation with the new instructor. Joseph didn’t even look at
the two other students in the class room, nor the teacher, he just went
to the back and sat down. After a few moments, the teacher walked over
to Joseph to introduce himself. He said his name was Mr. Brahma, and
that he would be Joseph’s chemistry teacher, as well as his instructor
for anatomy. Joseph smiled shyly, then looked up to see a short man,
approximately 5’2”, a full head of hair discounting the receding
hairline at the edges, with a pencil mustache. His hair was brown as
well as his eyes, but they never seemed to be looking at anything in
specific.
    Joseph began to introduce himself when Mr. Brahma set his hand
on Joseph’s middle back.
    “I know who you are, of course, Joseph. You are highly known
among the staff. AP anatomy and chemistry in consecutive periods, AP
philosophy/psychology, AP American and British literature, drama, Honor’s
Calculus. You are an excellent student, Joseph. And if I may say,
handsome.”
    Mr. Brahma rubbed his hand on Joseph’s back, lowering it
slightly before standing up and clearing his throat, noticing other
students beginning to come in. Joseph was left feeling uncomfortable and
awkward, but carried on like it was just a weird feeling. Throughout the
class, Walter Brahma, 43 years old, seemed to be picking on the quiet or
shy students, which Joseph decided was a way of getting them involved.
Joseph couldn’t shake off this uncomfortable feeling, but he figured it was
the new environment.
    At the end of the class, Mr. Brahma put his email and his phone
number on the board as a way of being able to contact him for help. Of
course, the phone number was the cell phone number of the phone provided
by the school to each teacher. When the bell rang, Joseph was the only
student who stayed, being the only of them who had AP anatomy with
Brahma next. Walter sat next to Joseph, leaned in and asked if Joseph
had gotten the contact information. Joseph told Mr. Brahma that he had,
and Mr. Brahma told Joseph that he could call anytime. Joseph nodded,
now very uncomfortable, and carried on. The class came in quicker this
time, and Joseph was very thankful.
    At the end of the day, Joseph went to the Student Service Office
to talk to his Assistant Principal about moving classes. He asked if he
could move his chemistry class to another teacher, to which Joseph’s AP
didn’t question, just allowed him to. Joseph had never had problems with
teachers, and teachers never had problems with Joseph. His AP, Mr.
Gionni, decided if Joseph wanted to move teachers, it was because of the
curriculum the teacher chose.
    The rest of the week went better than that day, but Joseph felt
that Mr. Brahma was ignoring him, as if he were mad at Joseph, or even
jealous about something Joseph had done. He just ignored it and went on
with his studies. After a while, Mr. Brahma began grading Joseph’s work
more harshly than any other student, which Joseph decided was a
challenge, and began working harder, doing ever extra credit assignment
there was. This lasted a week and a half, when suddenly the shy male

students began switching out of Mr. Brahma’s classes, and Joseph noticed
his grades were coming easier. One night, Joseph received a text from
Mr. Brahma, which was odd because Joseph hadn’t texted Brahma for help
that night.
        The text read only one thing.
            “Forgive me”
    The weekend came, and Joseph had finished his studies, so he
decided that he was going to begin reading a psychology book. This plan
was compromised when a text came in from one of Joseph’s ex lab
partners- one who had left the class. The text asked Joseph to come see
him at the book store in the mall, specifically at the cafe. Joseph
began to text back, asking what time, when the phone vibrated, and a new
text from the same student said to meet him at 2:00pm, which was in one
hour. Joseph got up from his desk and began getting ready, unsure what
Jeremy wanted. Joseph grabbed his boots, slid them on quickly, and wound
up leaving at 1:30pm. He got into David’s car and drove slowly, not
knowing whether or the new brakes were any good or not. When Joseph got
to the book store, he was slightly late, which was unusual for Joseph.
Joseph walked into the book store, straight to the cafe. He didn’t see
anyone he knew there, definitely not Jeremy. He bought a Lipton green
tea and was about to sit when he saw Jeremy in the nonfiction section of
the store. Joseph walked over to Jeremy and sat down on the ground next
to him, not really greeting him. Jeremy was also shy, similar to Joseph,
except Jeremy was clinically awkward.
    “So, why did you ask me to come, Jere-“
    “Mr. Brahma took pictures of me. Pictures that aren’t right. He
made me undress… Well, I took my shirt off and pulled my pants partway
down… But he took pictures. That’s why I left.”
    Joseph didn’t know what to say. He began to ask why Jeremy was
telling Joseph, but he realized that it was a warning. Brahma was going
after students with an introverted personality, knowing that they most
likely wont speak out. This, of course, was a mistake on Brahma’s part,
choosing a socially awkward student instead of a shy student.
    “Listen, Joseph, don’t tell anyone, okay? I just don’t want
anyone to know. I was only warning you, man.”
    That night, Joseph looked at himself in the mirror, by then
dressed up as Spotty again. He sat on his bed and concentrated; “How
would Spotty handle this situation?”
Within seconds, Joseph could see his hands grabbing Brahma’s head, with
a napkin covering his mouth. Joseph could see himself suddenly in the
chemistry room, Brahma beginning to wake up on the floor. Joseph’s
shadow- no, Spotty’s shadow looming over Brahma. Something was wrong,
though. It was too real. At the same time, Joseph couldn’t control this
fantasy. It struck him then; the Jekyll and Hyde disorder. It wasn’t him
in control anymore, and it was going to be a long night.

    Joseph stepped from his bedroom into the hallway, nervous to see
the new guy. There, in the kitchen, was a face Joseph had seen before.
Many times before.
    “Hello, Kangaroo,” greeted Timothy Normand Littles, Joseph’s
piano tutor. It had been a long time since the last time they were even
near eachother, and Joseph knew a hug was coming.
    Joseph opened his arms as Timothy dropped his luggage onto the
floor and followed into embracing Joseph, who only protested after being
lifted by his old tutor. Timothy set Joseph down and kissed his cheeks,
completely ignoring anything except his excitement for seeing his
student.
    “You’ve gotten bigger, Joe-Roo.” Timothy goosed Joseph’s
stomach, making him feel a bit awkward. David pulled out a cigarette.
    “Tim, you sound like a grandfather. Come on in, join me outside
for a smoke, will you? Joseph doesn’t like being near it.”
    Timothy smiled and remembered how healthy Joseph liked to be,
then followed David outside to chat and smoke. Joseph was left alone to
think about this. He felt guilty because even though he was thrilled to
see his old tutor, all he could think is that he wish that Timothy would
stay outside forever, never come back in, and leave the two boys alone.
He felt bad because he knew he was judging Tim.
    Several years back, Timothy had a job as a private piano tutor
after retiring from a career of teaching piano in an elementary school.
During his job as a tutor, there were allegations of Timothy being a
homosexual, which caused many of the parents pull their male students
out of the class, putting Timothy nearly out of his job. After coming
out as a gay man, students began coming back, now with a new sense of
security; Tim proved he was honest to himself and to the public. A few
years into his new career, Tim was arrested for hiding a relationship
with one of his male students, a student only 15 years of age, whereas
Tim was 28 at the time.
    Joseph began to hate himself for thinking about that, knowing
that Timothy was a good man, not meaning any harm by the mistake he
made. Joseph began thinking about himself, if he was being judgmental
to Tim just because society was or if it was because he sincerely felt
negatively about his teacher.
    Joseph decided it would be best to just eat dinner and go to bed
early, but he knew that couldn’t happen until he had said goodbye to
Timothy. He began to revert into his own mind, now feeling shy to even
think his opinions. Timothy and Dave came in from outside, laughing,
then David looked at Joseph and saw him lost in thought. David asked Tim
if he would be staying for dinner, to which Tim declined and said he
already ordered Chinese for his hotel room. Joseph suddenly stood up and
kissed Timothy on both cheeks and thanked him for coming, then quickly
blushed and became awkwardly embarrassed for his sudden outburst of
uncomfortable hospitality. Timothy stood in a slight shock, then
chuckled softly, kissed Joseph’s forehead, shook Dave’s hand, and took
his leave. Dave looked at Joseph.
    “What the hell was that? That was way awkward, Joey. You don’t
usually act like that,” Dave said, sounding more angry than concerned.
“Has he done something that I should know about, Joe-Joe? Has he done
you wrong in some fashi-“
    “He just makes me feel wrong,” Joseph interjected. “Like I did
something I should be ashamed of, but he wants me to not show that I am.
As if he wants me to feel bad, but to hide how bad I feel.”
    David looked at Joseph for a long time. He knew how bad Joseph
gets around people sometimes, and this was one of those times that there
was no way to have it explained. David patted Joseph’s shoulder, then
began making sandwiches.
    “Deli tonight, it’s too late for cooking. Do you want lettuce
and tomato, or just lettuce? I know you want the swiss cheese, and the
only meat we have is roast beef, so not a big range of choice there.
Mayo and mustard?”
    Joseph smirked slightly and told Dave that whatever he made for
him was just fine, as long as the tomato was fresh. Dave soon finished
making both sandwiches, cleaned off the table, then set the plates at
their proper places. They both sat down in their dinner seats and began
eating.
    “Joseph, he doesn’t have to move in with us. I could set him up
in another place, tell him I don’t feel comfortable with him. We don’t
need an extra room mate that bad.”
    Joseph didn’t say anything for a long while, then looked at
David.
    “I’m going to bed early tonight. Thank you for dinner.”
He stood up, put his half finished sandwich in the fridge then went to
his room. Joseph locked his door, then changed his clothes again, back
to his character, he added a beret and put a black spot around his right
eye. He sat on his bed, staring at himself in his mirror and grinning
for about an hour, then cleaned himself up and went to sleep.

        Joseph looked at himself in the mirror. His face was smeared with shock and stained with blood. He looked slowly down at his hands , which were also stained with blood, but also burnt from contact with caustic chemicals. Joseph took one more look in the mirror and puked.
        Only a month before, Joseph Alexander Germino was a shy, calm student with a 4.5 grade point average. His roommate and closest friend happen to be a very outgoing, fairly hyper guy with a limited temper and a 2.784 grade point average. His name is David Armstrong, and he is a year ahead of Joseph in school, but they are the same age.
        Joseph had worked as a lifeguard at the beach, but that didn’t make much money during the winter, so he began fixing people’s electronics for cheap prices. He led himself a simple life, living away from his parents for seven years. Joseph, only being 17, never had proper support from his parents, and was stressed easily.
        David love Joseph like a brother, so he tried to help as best as possible, but since Joseph kept to himself about everything, he couldn’t get much out of Joseph’s shy mind.
        ”Listen, Joe – Joe, I hate seeing you stress. You’ve got a handsome smile, so let me help you cheer up.”
        ”I don’t know what it is that’s stressing me out, anyhow.”
        ”Don’t give me that shit, Jay. You have lived with me for five years, and we’ve been on our own for nearly three. I know you, and you’re a damned genius, and you’re into all of that psychology crap, and I know you have a psychoanalytical response to any action said and words done with a cert–”
        ”Actions done and words said, David.”
        ” I see. So it’s a teacher, aye? Dude, sometimes teachers keep a different reality then the students. The best thing to do is escape reality. Create a persona who acts in no way as you do, but sometimes you wish you could. Hell, give it your nickname a funny sense of style and be him when no one’s around. Imagine being him and doing what you always wanted to do. Then, cool down, and be you again. I promise it will help – money back guarantee.”
                Joseph smiled barely, then wiped a tear from his eye.
        The following day, Joseph sat down before doing any of his extra credit assignments and slipped off his Californian Nitrine brown leather 8E hard toe prison guard boots and polished them. These boots were important to him, because he had no others, and he had to go into the Chad prison in order to buy them, which scared the living shit out of him. He set them in the box that they came in, then took off his blue plaid flannel and hung it up. He sat down, now in slacks, socks, and his red “disc – jock” shirt, thinking of a character to become.
        Joseph resolved that is his persona was meant to cheer him up, this persona must be conceited. Joseph took off his T – shirt, walked over to his wardrobe mirror, then stared at himself in a wife beater and slacks with is red shirt in hand. Then, he suddenly decided that this man didn’t have to be as organized as Joseph, so he tossed the shirt onto his queen-size double drawered bed. Joseph looked into the mirror again, then flipped his hair over, then flex, trying to mimic his idea of a conceited version of himself. He peeled off his wife beater, then began to check himself out.
        Joseph looked at himself as he had never seen before. He suddenly saw more than just a shirtless torso. Joseph saw in the mirror over a buff blond man with a nice tan. He ran his hand across his abs, realizing for the first time he had a toned six pack. He knew, though, that shirtless would not fit this new personality, so he grabbed a black Under Armor biking shirt that was a little small and put it on. He wanted to make this man suave, so she added and Australian accent with class. He then heard David get home and open the door, so he slipped off his socks and poked up behind David.
        ” ‘Ello, Davey– boy.”
        David jumped and spun around with his car and house keys pointed through his fingers like blades at Joseph.
        ” Jesus H. Shitball Christ, Joey. I see you started the character.”
        His room mate was looking at his nails by now, then looked up at David with a maniacal and toothy grin that Joseph would never otherwise do.
         ” What character? And the name’s Spotty, lov.”
        David smiled then ruffled Joseph’s hair.
        ” Listen, I’m glad you started, but you might want to wait. I think I’ve got a ‘lodger’ for our place, buddy.”
        Joseph looked at David with sudden surprise. He was certain that David had stopped looking for a new roommate. A voice spoke from the entryway of the house.
        ”Hello, Joseph. I’m here to see the empty room.”
        Our protagonist didn’t wait for the stranger in the doorway to finish his introduction. He get out of the room, when did news bedroom, and began putting on his normal clothes, then sat down to put his boots on when he heard a knock on his door. It had to be David knocking, but Joseph didn’t want to see this new man or this new man to see him.
        ”Dave, I want you to tell me if you’re bringing in a person that I don’t know.”
        ”Joey, come out. I think you would enjoy this new guy.”
        Joseph sat silent for a moment, then he got up to fit foot into his boot. He fixed his hair, then open his bedroom door to meet new roommate.

Okay, so, this is not just any old blog, this is a start of a series titled(obviously) Why They Call Me Spotty. It’s a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde concept, but more of schizophrenic situation. There is young, cute, ambitious Joseph Alexander Germino, an 18 year old student in high school, and then there’s Spotty, the sex addicted, murderous, sociopathic alter ego. So, I will begin with posting pictures and biographies.