Posts Tagged murder

Metapost: Not Dead

Merely wishing I were. Customer service jobs are a pain and a half (perhaps a Shenanigan will be posted talking about that in more detail), and I’m doing my best to stay alive and in one piece in spite of panic attacks, abusive customers, and a nagging cough that just won’t stop.

But just to show that I’m still alive and active for the time being, here’s a quick snippet I dashed off at a writing group meeting tonight.

Prompt: Write from the point of view of a murderer, without actually referring to the murder.

I really need to clean the kitchen. The kitchen and the living room. Probably the rest of the house, but the kitchen and the living room really need it, since that’s where—but we’re not talking about that right now. Ah ha ha. Let’s clean the kitchen.
 
I can feel you staring at me. Just gazing at me in that half-lidded manner while I scrub the dishes. It’s rather lazy to just lie there and watch me do all the work, but I don’t particularly blame you. You probably couldn’t get up to help even if I wanted you to. But we’re not talking about that right now. Ah ha ha. The dishwasher is pleasantly loaded. Every dish exactly where it ought to be, and nothing out of place. I think that while the dishwasher runs, I shall take out the trash.
 
I pull the garbage bag out of the can, cinch it up nice and tight, tie it shut, and haul it carefully out to the Dumpster. The Dumpster could probably hold several individuals. I wonder if you’d want to take a ride in the garbage truck. I don’t suppose you’d enjoy it. But then, you couldn’t really complain. But we’re not talking about that right now. Ah ha ha. I give the neighbor, Mrs. Derrow, a polite little wave as I pass. She smiles a little and says hello while she works on pruning the rosebushes, snipping at the new shoots and cutting off little buds of life one by one.
 
And back inside I go, humming softly. It’s time to tackle the living room. I’ll have to get a bigger garbage bag to help get rid of everything. But at least things will be clean again. Your gaze is disapproving, I can tell. You’ve held that grimace of disdain on your face for hours now. But we’re not talking about that right now. Ah ha ha. Gently clear up the glasses, the bottles, the food and other bits of assorted detritus. Tuck the disposables away into the garbage bag. I guess you’re disposable now. But we’re not talking about that right now. Ah ha ha.
 
Lord, you’re heavy.

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