Saturday, October 5, 2013

Serial Killer's Diary: Part 3

**Warning: these entries may be graphic and, hopefully, frightening.  Keep in mind this is merely fiction.  No humans (or animals) have or will be harmed in the production of this blog.  All names have been chosen at random and are not meant to represent anyone, living or dead.  Any similarities are purely coincidental** 

10/5/13    2:45 PM

      I can’t remember the last time I slept that well.  Normally, I wake at least three or four times in the night and by 7am, I am wide awake.  I slept like a log until noon!  I expected to be achy and sore after last night’s exertion but I feel great.  If only I’d known, killing that useless, incompetent, witch would make me feel this good; I would have done it years ago. 
      Anyway, I left off with my departure from Dr. Jenkins’ development.  I was very careful as I pulled out and set my course for home.  With my cruise control engaged, I paid close attention to the traffic laws.  It wouldn’t be wise to get pulled over; not when congealed blood had seeped into the fabric of my clothes. 
      Thirty minutes later, I was pulling into my driveway, pleased with my evening.  I hopped out of my car, feeling twenty pounds, lighter when Mrs. Flemming flicked on her porch light and stepped outside, one hand on her hip and the other wagging disapprovingly at me.  Damn!  I’d forgotten….I was supposed to have dinner with her and her husband (and those yappy little fur-balls she calls dogs).  Renting the apartment over their renovated garage, at a ridiculously low monthly payment, I often feel obliged to agree when they invite me to dinner.  Truthfully, I feel bad for Mr. and Mrs. Flemming.  Their children rarely, if ever, visit and they’re lonely.  Not to mention, Mrs. Flemming’s cooking is out of this world.  She is the embodiment of a stereotypical grandmother.  
      I stammered, trying to come up with a valid excuse, when she gasped.  “You’re face!  It’s covered in blood.  Were you in an accident?”  Again, I felt that switch flick on and the smoothest lie I’d ever told came tumbling out.  I told her I was driving home and a dog, a beautiful black lab, ran out in front of my car.  I felt a single tear, warm and salty, trickle down my cheek as I regaled her with my fantastic story.  Being a dog-lover, I knew Mrs. Flemming would be willing to forgive me when she’d heard about how I single-handedly carried the wounded dog to my car and rushed it to an emergency veterinary hospital.  She was so touched that I’d paid for the poor animal, since I could not locate his owners, (of course I couldn’t seeing as how none of them exist).  In fact, she was so moved that she waived my next month’s rent.  My luck is certainly improving.  
      After a quick shower, I changed into some presentable clothes while Mrs. Flemming heated up the leftovers from the dinner I’d missed. She packaged it all up in take-away containers and l was able to eat it all in the comfort of my own tiny kitchen instead of having to deal with her tedious conversation and the nails-on-a-chalkboard yipping of her little ankle-biters. (Those little Pomeranians might very well be the reason her kids don’t visit)  It might be pressing my luck but I’m going to take a nap and eat the rest of those leftovers.  Who knows, maybe I’ll sleep in tomorrow and spend the day watching football.  

No comments:

Post a Comment