The Memoirs of Machete Paolo Part 1



I was on my way down 31st street to pick up a jug of alcohol.
I was just under a thousand meters away with less than a minute to closing time.
I wasn’t going to make it.

My machete had been crying out to me. She had been gone for over 48 hours now. I ain’t seen her in far too long.

My head was full of visions. No longer the visions of what I would do to the man who stole my precious blade, but visions of what he was doing with her. I pictured her rusty and worn.

I wondered if she had betrayed me.
I wondered if she had let that crazy bastard Oscar use her. I wondered if she let him touch her the way I used to touch her. I wondered; if when he brought her blade slicing through the air onto someone’s head, would she sing as sweetly for him as she did for me. Perhaps her song would be sweeter. I wanted nothing more than to hear that haunting music once more. Did she stay true to me?
I am Machete Paolo and my machete was stolen from me by Invisible Oscar.

When I have my revenge, rivers of blood will flow and the drains of Roehampton will be blocked up with gore.

Invisible Oscar shall pay dearly for the injustice he brought upon me.

Part 1.

The shop was closed. My thirst was growing. Only strong drink or death can satisfy my thirst. Without my machete I am weak, but I still have strength enough for what I must do. I have heard nothing of Invisible Oscar; there have been no clues as to how I can find him. All I can hear are the screams that echo in his wake, but by the time I arrive there Invisible Oscar has vanished into the night. The only thing left is the evidence of his insanity; barely recognisable body parts scattered on the blood-soaked ground. The stench they make is sickening.

Oscar does not wield my blade like an artist. Rather than using it as the craftsman’s tool that it is, rather than using it with surgical precision, he violates my instrument with a serial rampage of bloodlust and mayhem. No matter, I have set my most trusted associate, Mad Josh, to the task of finding him. Soon I will have Invisible Oscar in my iron grip and I shall watch his eyes fade as his soul flies screaming down to hell. Then, and only then, will my machete and I will make sweet music once more.

Outside my bed chamber a cat purrs, it disturbs my thoughts. I open the door and pick it up. It purrs no more.


There is a knock on my door. I rouse myself from dark introspections and grab the meat cleaver from under my pillow. A crude tool compared to my beautiful machete but it serves a purpose, for now.

“Who is it?”
“Machete Paolo, it is I, The Imperial Majesty of Madness.”
“Who?” I ask in a low voice. The cats’ bloody face swims in front of my eyes.
“Mad Josiah, my Lord. Your first lieutenant.”

I open the door and let him in. I catch a glimpse of the madness behind his eyes, a living thing born of chaos and darkness. Madness rules his mind and governs his actions.

“What have you found?” I ask him.
“I have captured Ropey Stephen, Lord. He was trying to hang himself with his own…”
“Spare me the graphic imagery Josiah. Has he told you where his master is?”

I can tell that my lieutenant’s madness is growing fast. I suspect that he will soon be beyond my control.
“Not yet, my Lord. We are working on it”
“Is he tied up?”
“Yes, my lord”
“Have you tortured him with the women?”
“We started with twenty but he turned manic. He nearly broke the chains holding him.”
“Were they beautiful?”
“Yes my Lord, they were best we could find.”
“Fool!” I exclaimed, slamming my cleaver into the desk. “They should not be so beautiful at this point of the interrogation. If Steve becomes too enraged with lust we might not be able to restrain him. We will not get the information we want.”
“Forgive me, my Lord. I shall reduce the number of girls immediately, and I shall endeavour to disfigure them so that they are no longer beautiful.”
“No! They must all be beautiful now. And increase their numbers. You humans infuriate me!” I cannot let him disfigure the girls otherwise I may lose him to the madness entirely then.
“But my Lord, won’t he go insane?”
“If we promise him that calibre of girls each day, he may just tell us where his master is.”
“I will carry out your commands right away, my Lord. It is my honour.”

Mad Josh left the room, carrying the cat’s corpse in a sack. He left a lingering stench of insanity behind him. If I had my machete I would not be reduced to relying on such incompetent, untrustworthy and unpredictable fools like him. They would sooner feed you to the vultures just to satisfy their own insane desires. If I had my machete I could work alone, free of all the madness. No matter, soon I will take care of all of them. I shall be rid of everyone and only I will be left.



his name rhymes with ‘mince’. He’s rarely without a notebook and can usually be found next to the closest bottle of red wine. Previously a writer for The Roehampton Lane Journal.

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