In a land not too far away was John. A man in his late thirties, somewhat in shape, and in possession of beautifully sculpted burgundy hair. Every morning, he would spend a minimum of thirty minutes making sure it looked the way he got it cut at his barber shop. If it didn’t look right, he would call in sick. This is probably why he’s on probation at the non-profit he volunteers at but he can’t help himself.

Looks: this is what everyone strives for. Who wants to be the ugliest person in the room? No one. Especially not John. He tries to befriend those more gorgeous than him with compliments but they always try to get away from him. Few drinkers want to have another person enter their pooping stall while they are using it. Bars are more acceptable places for these interactions but it doesn’t make it any less weird.

John just can’t control his urges and impulsively acts on them as soon as he can. Sees someone they believe is enticing, gotta tell them. Sees a cute dog on the street, gotta pick it up. Sees someone rocking an astonishing outfit, gotta rip it off of them. It’s safe to say, John doesn’t have something inhibiting his impulses.

Why should he? It’s satisfying to get what you want when you want it. Being able to be with someone you find lovely is more appealing than getting a lump removed from your genitals. John is nothing more than a common man, with common cravings. John does have a line he won’t cross, though. In John’s mind, people who consume substances to go through their days are troglodytes. Who would want to alter their mind for the sake of “comfort” or “fun”? Nothing is amusing about not being able to remember what happened the night before nor is it entertaining to lose control of your bodily functions in the name of play.

Being sober is the best way to live life and he won’t stop until everyone hears this message. Speaking on the dangers these substances can create is what drew him to be an activist. Having his mother treat him to a night of flying fists after a bottle of gin didn’t help, either. “Facing the Fist” sounds like a cool martial arts movie but the ring didn’t resonate with John.

You might be wondering, “Why would John hang out at bars then?” If you ever attended university or college, then you are probably familiar with the preachers who try to convert students struggling to make it to class on time. These annoyances shout religious texts at those seeking knowledge but they all avoid these hollerers like they have leprosy. They are doing their part in spreading the gospel, even if no one cares to listen.

Joining D.A.R.E. was his religious enlightenment. The pamphlets he received as a high schooler helped determine where he was heading in his daily routine. It helps he makes his money by being an Uber driver. He can pick up drunkards and passive-aggressively belittle their worldviews. There’s nothing funnier than an intoxicated blasphemer try to comprehend when someone is talking down to them. These interactions allow John to sleep soundly at night.

Plus, most people who go out always look their best and he hungers for these kinds of peers. The carnal sensation coming over his body is especially apparent when he has someone to himself. It doesn’t matter if they are a woman, man, or in-between, their isolation gives him a sense of pleasure one can only compare to a first kiss. Debilitating.

They have to dedicate all of their attention to him. Sure, they can go on their phone or look out the window, but they always go back to him. He will ask a question and they will face his direction. He will offer them candy and they will slide their hand across his when picking it up. He will even engage in a conversation about the shade of their eyes and they’ll just blink as their face turns red.

As they slowly drive through the city—finding the passenger’s home—John can’t take his sight off them. Their physique won’t stop flaunting their elegance and it just stirs something deep within him. John wants to live in a world where all of the exquisites could live together. Now, don’t get confused. John doesn’t mean EVERYONE. He’s talking about a select few. These small groups are the bonnies of the world; picturesque. These marvels need to be placed in attention-grabbing opportunities while the undesirables should be expelled to the outskirts.

It’s silly to believe there aren’t hideous individuals out there and, sometimes, they have positions the lookers should possess. There’s no reason these frail and stick-like figures should be walking down the aisle showing off the newest clothing lines. They don’t have realistic body shapes and are creating troubling views within the youth. The self-esteem problems these people create are why teenage suicide rates are alarmingly high and are pushing the youth to get plastic surgery before they can even drink alcohol. The bodacious shouldn’t be proud of their curve, either. In John’s perspective, these gargantuans are nuisances because they promote unhealthy rations. People are starving to death in some parts of the world and these voluptiouses are gorging themselves on wagyu and lobster. Disgusting. The average individual is being bombarded with conflicting views as to who is actually desirable.

The handsome are the women who have curves accentuating every feature of their body. The beautiful are the men who have muscles because they walk to work every day. The ravishing are the women who can go about their day with a natural face and not feel compelled to cake their front with powdered chemicals. The exquisite are men who wear plain clothing so they don’t waste their money. These smashers are invisible to the average person.

Except for John.

John sees them.

John values them.

John wants to share them with the world.

Why should these individuals be luscious when they are just an accountant at their local pub? There’s nothing useful to having a model working as a waitress in the diner down the street. Keeping these gorgeous looks bottled up in their apartment is a blow to mankind and John can’t stand this.

This is why John ravenously uses social media. Having an account dedicated to the prettiest person of the night has allowed him to amass a festival-like following. With a grand total of 138 followers on Instagram and 74 followers on TikTok, he knows what people are looking for and provides them with it. Although, he doesn’t fall for gimmicks and does his best to highlight only the truly alluring.

You know those; miscreants who follow trends in beauty and constantly change how they look based on what is popular need to be ignored. These individuals are just trashy folks trying to glam up garbage. John wouldn’t want to soil his flesh with their trash. No. John wants to only enhance his looks and these atrocious beings would only make it rot faster.

Tonight was no different. He’s been able to conquer various individuals who got into his car alone because he’s practiced his routine and what he’s going to say for months. He makes them feel relaxed with kind discussions about red pandas and the flavor of fresh bread. He has thoughtful conversations about what people want to do when they have free time and makes jokes to see them show off their smiles.

The man currently sitting diagonally behind him thought nothing of these exchanges and why should he? How often is it your driver has ulterior motives? The roaring laughter in the vehicle was potent and eased any intrusive thoughts trying to invade this red-headed man. As he talked to John, he felt compelled to tip him more than he normally would. The engagement they shared was something he wouldn’t have imagined was possible when it came to ride-shares.

John knew this one would be easy.

With a quick swipe of his pocket knife, John forced red liquid to spew out of the passenger’s neck. The man would try to run but the child lock was activated. With panic in his eyes, the customer scrambled for his life. The sound of a door handle being violently shaken could be heard outside of the vehicle but the car’s speed made it impossible to notice. He was stuck and quickly ruining the leather of the Fiat. As the happiness slowly seeped out of him, he slumped down and became an unmanned puppet.

John just stared as the man spread his inner juice all over. He knew this would be a pain to clean but it was all worth it to bathe in their beauty by the end of the night. He drove to an undisclosed location and dragged the limp creature onto a butcher’s hook. He would then pull the other end of the chain as if his victim was livestock needing to be bled.

Slowly collecting their blood and draining it into a specially made bathtub allows him to gorge himself. Similar to how Jeffrey Dahmer never wanted his toys to leave, John doesn’t want beauty to be wasted on the trivial. This random was doing nothing but squandering his privilege. They were only a barista and didn’t even consider starting an Instagram when they could have had thousands of people looking at their life. John had to change this. Absorbing their vitality will guarantee their demeanor becomes useful. He will share with those walking by him the sheen he developed from this meal. John’s ultimate goal is to make sure people stop frittering with their appearance. Sure, he goes about it in the worst way possible but millions of people across the globe are misguided. The difference between them and John is the fact he will act on it.

As the corpse slowly leaks out the last drops of human stock, John would have another freshly deceased carcass ready to be drained. After all, it takes a lot of this savory pedigree to fill up a bathtub meant for a 6-foot man. As it nears the top of the tub, John undresses and sinks into the bubbles. He lets his mind be one with internal peace. He can feel his skin regenerating, looking like it did decades ago. Despite being in his late thirties, he had the gleam of a freshly turned 11-year-old; at least this is what he thought.

Despite having a body count mounting 13, he was surprisingly evasive. Although, most officers aren’t adept at these situations and just associate these disappearances with drunken binges. It’s rare for anyone to see this kind of belief being enacted and that is why many of them won’t ever be prepared. People want to turn away from true horrors because it will only cause negative thoughts to persist while they try to eat, sleep, and work. Granted, they also didn’t have much time to look since John only started this treatment three weeks ago.

The problem with social media and smartphones these days is the fact your location is constantly being monitored. Whether you are using your camera, playing your favorite app, or scrolling through Facebook, it doesn’t matter; you are going to be tracked. This is what allowed the local precinct to locate this misguided soul.

As the police crept into the abandoned building—guns drawn—John continued to use his loofah to ensure all the nutrients seeped into his body more vivaciously. They took note of this blissed-out man scrubbing his skin clean of dead and flaky cells, making sure none of his top layers were present after this bath. The rough scratching between the sponge and epidermis brought a tension many of the officers wished they didn’t have to experience. It didn’t help the bodies piled into a corner of the complex were white as ghosts; forcing some of these diligent investigators to hold back their vomit. To prevent the suspect from running away, they all swallowed it back down. Once in reach of this serial killer, they would shout; “hands up!”

John—obviously—was startled by this sudden real-life pop-up advert but he didn’t hear them. He just mumbled; “I’m sorry! I thought I was helping!”

No one believed him. No one would ever believe him.

All they knew was that he was a monster in human clothing. But, he wasn’t anything spectacular or evil or mystical. He was your average man who just gave in to his impulses.

They dragged his nude body out of the porcelain tank and handcuffed him.

“Freak.”

“Filth.”

“Killer.”

“Cannibal.”

They “accidentally” banged his head against the doorframe of the car and didn’t care the cuffs were cutting into his skin. They didn’t even give him a towel to cover himself. All they cared about was taking this “crazy” into the precinct and locking him up.

Once everyone was in the car, the officers would ask for his name.

He would remain quiet for a bit but the pressure in his throat forced out a meek gargle, “John Doe”.