By Lisa McCourt Hollar
I should have been nicer to him. That’s always been a problem for me. If I hate someone, I can’t just make nice and pretend otherwise. I’m not a hypocrite and this is something I’ve always been proud of. Until now. Now, my animosity towards Richard could be my undoing. I’m the only one that hated him enough, to want to see him dead. Since he was now lying on the floor of my kitchen, with a cleaver through his head, it made sense that I would be the obvious suspect.
Okay, yes, I killed him, but does that mean I should go to prison for the rest of my life? The man was an asshole and a bastard asshole at that. And I’m not the only one that hated him. I’m just the only one that told him I would see him rot in hell. See, I’m not that smart. I should have just thought it in my head. But then again, they would have read my thoughts and known. There’s no place for private thought anymore.
Even then, it might have only been talk, but the man showed up in my kitchen. I was cutting letters out of a magazine, when I heard the door open behind me. First thing I thought was it was a home invasion. I had a friend that was taken by Big Brother. They sent her to some reprogramming center and brainwashed her. That’s the only thing that explains how she turned on me, testifying for those social workers and helping them take my kids. Told them I was crazy, she did. That bitch. Well, I showed her, ummm, I mean, she disappeared. No one knows what happened to her.
So Richard comes sneaking in my back door, probably planning on raping me, or tying me up and selling me to his alien friends…did I mention, he’s not human? So I reached for the cleaver…it’s always where I can get to it, turned and swung. Bye bye Richard.
But now I have a problem. At first I expected the mother ship to come swooping down, or to be beamed up into space. But nothing happened. I haven’t even seen any signs of the G-men and I know our government is working with them, subduing us all into submission. It’s working too. It amazes me how little anyone questions things anymore. But they will be here, unless I divert attention to someone else.
I finish cutting out the letters and paste them onto the paper, being careful to use water and not my own saliva. Then I put it in the mail. It is addressed to Santa Clause. He works for the government you know. I’ve told him Richard can be found at my neighbors, Suzie Carmichael. She’s an alien too, disguised as a little girl. Little cunt has the whole neighborhood fooled, except for me. But everyone will know what she is, once they find Richard’s head in her toybox. Heh heh heh.
Word Count: 500
This was written for Motivation Monday