Excerpt: Cleaning Up After Dinner

Hate is such a weak word for the emotion that drives me. We, as a society, have weakened the word ‘hate’ with constant references to hating a song or hating a color. That’s not hate. Usually, we don’t mean more than a reference to mild dislike. And even that may be giving us more credit than is properly due. No, hate is a weak word. But it is a strong, over powering emotion.
Most people won’t have cause to ever truly hate anything in their lives. They won’t be able to isolate the one person or idea or concept that drives the machinery of the force that destroys them. I am luckier, I suppose. I can see through the walls of lies and partial truths to the maneuvering within the passages of government and society. I can find those singular individuals that can destroy with a vote, or a word, or a careful deed. This is not a super power, by any means. Nor do I claim to have any but the most elemental of research abilities for this day and age. Instead I have time, patience, and a huge amount of that great motivator, hate.
To understand the depths of my hate, and the lengths I will go to protect those who have yet to know each bitter taste, you have to understand a few things about me. Not that I really want to tell you that much about me, but I suppose I have no choice if you are going to listen to my stories.