Monday, November 3, 2008

Killing Spree--Day 3 of 30dow

It’s not that I’m not surprised that it happened. I’m just surprised that it happened so quickly. She’s told me to clean the kitchen a billion times, and today was just the last straw. Every time I cook, I clean the kitchen—it just sometimes takes until the next morning before I finish all the dishes. She just has to have it sooooo perfect. I have to have all the cookware washed or in the dishwasher before I can even sit down to eat.

What a bitch.

Tonight, I was making veggie tacos. I had the big butcher knife out to cut up lettuce. She rounded the corner, making her way from the TV room to our galley kitchen and said, “Now make sure you wash and dry that knife before you eat. You know that leaving it dirty will dull the knife.”

“Mom, I told you, I will do the dishes. I always do!”

“Sometimes you don’t. Last week, you didn’t do the dishes, and I had to wash two plates and one fork.”

Something in me snapped and I lunged at her with the knife. I don’t know much about murder beyond a bit of googling, but the knife made contact with her neck and blood gushed everywhere. She made gurgling sounds as she fell to the ground.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.”

I ran out the front door, knife still in hand. As usual, there were neighbors walking past on their evening walk. They watched me, horrified, as I ran past, knife in hand. One of them looked at me, and I vaguely recognized him as someone I’d dated last year. Everything was so blurry, but I remember him actually saying to me, “If you really loved me, you’d have sex with me.”

Well, hell. I accidentally killed my mom, but might as well rid the world of a bastard like him. I slashed my knife across his neck, plunged it into his chest, and ran on.

At the next street, I wiped the knife on the underside of my shirt and tucked it into my pants. I held my thumb out to bum a ride. I live in a smallish town, so it wasn’t unusual for folks to bum rides.

A teenager pulled over and let me into her stupid fucking Hummer. I looked at her, recognized her as the younger sister of a bitch I hated in high school. That bitch went on to work for the GOP. I decided that I might as well stop the next one in line from becoming another exploiter and user. I asked her to pull over at a gas station already closed for the night. I pulled the knife from my pants and slashed at her. Blood spewed across the windshield and soaked into the upholstery. She looked at me, too shocked to even scream. I pushed her body out the door and got in the driver’s seat. I reversed over her body, smooshing it good, probably even destroying dental identifiers.

I turned the radio to NPR and headed for the rich part of town. It was now time to rid my town of assholes.

2 comments:

Art Thief said...

I can actually picture you shoving the bloody knife in your pants as you stomp down the street. Friigin hilarious.

Fancy Pants said...

I like the "if you love me..." part. I thought it was just going to be a story about the one murder, so that twist caught me a little off guard.

I like being caught off guard.