Wee Wee's World

My name is Leonard Litkovitz.

I used the jugular veins of a four-year-old boy to make a bow on a gift box I gave my grandma for her 90th birthday.

A 90th birthday is a big deal.

Not many people live to see ninety and I wanted to do something extra special for Grandma.

On rare occasions I killed children.

This was an exceptionally rare occasion and I felt a responsibility to do a youngster for her before she kicked the bucket. Besides, there’s nothing on the planet tastier than young, fresh meat.

It was two days before Grandma’s birthday, so I had just enough time to select her gift.

I combed a middle-class neighborhood for hyperactive stray children playing in front of their houses with no supervision at 7:00 am on a Sunday morning. It’s the perfect time and area to find fresh meat.

I found the little runt I was looking for. He was riding his tricycle like a mad man down the sidewalk as I approached him in my compact rent-a-car. I paralleled him down the street. He turned the corner onto another street, and I kept driving straight.

As I passed him, I looked over to see that he stopped just around the corner because a black cat was blocking his way.

I made a U-turn and parked across the street from where he was.

The location was perfect. There was a seven-foot concrete wall holding up a big patch of ivy that blocked anybody living in that corner house from seeing him, or me.

Lucky for me the cat wouldn’t move out of this kid’s way, so I took the opportunity and drove up to the curb where he sat on his tricycle patiently waiting for the feline to move.

The only thing between me and this beautiful blonde haired little boy was an unkempt lawn of ivy.

I rolled down the passenger side window and said, “Hello, my name is Lenny, what’s your name?”

He looked at me and didn’t answer. So I continued, “If you tell me your name, I’ll give you this candy.” (And yes, that trick really does work.)

I added, “You’ll have to come over to my car window to get it, and then you can tell me your name, okay?”

He said in an excited tone, “Okay.”

With that, he got off his tricycle and lifted his legs high to step over the ivy.

He was too short for me to pull through the window, so I opened the passenger door.

I dangled the candy in front of him but didn’t let him grab it from me. It was like bait on a fish hook.

When he saw that I wasn’t just going to just hand him the candy bar, he said, “My name is Michael.”

“Hi Michael”, I replied, and shook the candy bar through the door opening.

He grabbed it, and I grabbed his wrist.

I yanked him in the car and quickly put my hand over his mouth. I stretched across Michael to shut the passenger door, and then put the car in gear and took off.

The candy bar fell down on the passenger seat floor.

I took my hand off Michael’s mouth and pushed him down into the seat.

He was screaming, so I told him, “It’s okay, Michael. We’re going to the Burgerama so you can play on the jungle gym. You like playing on the jungle gym, right?”

He stopped crying and said, “The jungle gym?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, and I reached down and picked up the candy bar. I opened it with my teeth. “Here, Michael. This is yours. Take it.”

He opened the wrapper and bit into the candy bar.

We drove into the Burgerama parking lot and I put the car in park without turning off the engine.

Just as he finished the candy bar I said, “Did that taste good, Michael?”

When he nodded his head, I reached over and strangled him to death. It took fifteen seconds for little Michael to stop breathing.

I loved the irony of killing little kids in the parking lots of places they love to go to, like the park to play on the swings, their favorite fast food restaurant, or a traveling carnival.

I took off and drove the rent-a-car to where my real car was parked. I wrapped Michael up in a wool blanket and carried him to my car.

We headed to my house.

Michael and I took a little trip down to the basement where I laid him on an eight-foot long cutting board.

That basement was my favorite place to hang out in that house. It was like a gourmet kitchen down there.

I systematically cut his body up with a butcher knife and other cutting instruments I’d collected over the years.

Michael’s organs, limbs, and head were stored in my custom made freezer.

Some of the more delicate body parts like his jugular, carotids, other veins and arteries, and organs, including his balls, went into the refrigerator. Properly prepared, human balls taste a thousand times better than any Italian grandmother’s home made meatballs.

I built up quite an appetite and took out my big old crock pot. I slow cooked me a tender, young, blonde-haired boy.

The dish I prepared was a liver and brains six egg omelet. They’re delicious with a melted Muenster cheese and Tabasco sauce.

My taste buds smoked a cigarette after every bite of that omelet. It took me only six bites to finish.

I could have been a head chef at any four star restaurant, but if I wrote on my resume ‘young children’ as my favorite dish to prepare, I don’t think management could hire me.

On Grandma’s birthday, I steamed Michael’s jugular veins until they were tender enough for me to make a bow out of them to put on top of Grandma’s present. I was very tempted to eat those too. They smelled so good.

My grandmother was blind, and she loved the feeling of different textures.

I once took a loose shit in a smell-proof plastic bag and gave it to Grandma to see if she could figure out what it was.

I asked her, “Grandma, if you can figure out what’s inside this plastic bag you’re holding, I’ll give you your eyesight back.”

She said, “It feels like shit and smells like it too. Now, where’s my eyesight?”

“That zip baggy said it was smell proof,” I replied in shock.

“Ain’t nothing gonna hold back the smell of diarrhea, Leonard.” Something about the way she said that made me laugh until I cried.

I said, “Ok Grandma. It’s time to open up your birthday gift.”

Jugular veins have a smooth, velvety texture, and I knew my grandmother would appreciate the texture they have.

After she caressed the jugulars with her fingers, she said, “Wow, Leonard, what an interesting texture. I can’t figure out what it is. Please, tell me what the bow is made of?”

I replied honestly. “I made the bow out of the jugular veins of a four-year-old boy I killed, Grandma.”

The room got so silent that if a fart squeaked out I would’ve jumped out of my skin.

Grandma broke the silence and said, “Don’t be silly, Leonard, what is it really made of?”

The thick silence returned as she waited for me to answer her.

She set aside the bow and removed the box lid.

She felt around the inside of the box, but there was nothing in it, not even crumpled up gift wrapping paper.

Her smile painfully left her face and she said in a deep monotone voice, “You’re serious, aren’t you Leonard?”

“Serious about what, Grandma?” I asked.

She replied, “About the bow being made from a young boy’s jugular veins?”

“Come on Grandma. Where did your sense of humor go?”

“Leonard, now you tell me the truth. We don’t keep secrets from each other. You know that.”

Talk about manipulation. “Well alright, Grandma. Yeah, I’m serious. I made your gift bow out of a four-year-old’s jugular veins.”

Her smile came back. “Wow, jugular veins have such a soft, velvety texture. God bless you, Leonard. If it wasn’t for you, I’d never get to feel anything interesting. Thank you.”

Those words coming from my grandma’s mouth really touched my heart. I never felt thanked from anybody in my entire life like the way I felt with the thanks she gave me that day on her 90th birthday. I think it was because she really made me feel appreciated.

I smiled lovingly at her. “You’re welcome, Grandma.”

I gave her a kiss on her cheek and told her I had to go.

She tried to stop me from going. “Wait a second. Don’t you want a piece of this chocolate mousse cake you brought me?”

I said, “I’ll be back a little later for a piece, Grandma. I love you.”

That was the last time I saw my grandma alive. She died from a stroke a few minutes after I left.

As sad as I was that she was gone, I felt good about bringing her some happiness on her 90th and final birthday.