'I'm gonna kill that bastard' I mutter, staring at my haggard face in the mirror, running my finger across the scar. I glance back at my son, whose eyes are glued to the TV. 1
I hate myself for becoming the kind of mother who uses the TV as a babysitter. It’s all Jack's fault. I want to make him suffer like I do. I want him to carry a scar like mine, to remind him of what he ruined. Or worse. 2
I worked my ass off, straight out of college, for ten years before I met him, and thought he would complete my picture of a perfect household. I had it all planned out… 3
My house was two stories high, with the old furniture from the former owners piled everywhere. I couldn’t stand to look at that junk, so I went to all the estate sales to find the perfect piece. After all, I could afford exactly what I needed, I had a good job and the wedding gifts had all be exchanged or returned for money. The people who gave them simply had no sense of interior design or fashion, or common sense for that matter. Never mind the fact that no gift registry could ever include my dreams for this house. 4
I had Jack hire a painter, because I simply couldn’t get any paint on my wardrobe. Not as a sales clerk. No way, no how. Meanwhile, I hopped from store to store, checking out draperies and artwork and every little home furnishing I could find. Jack never once said he liked anything. I would have rather had him say he didn’t like something than sit there in silence, ignoring all my efforts. 5
I had the perfect house, the perfect life. Then, suddenly, it all changed. 6
One day, after we’d fought over a cum stain I’d found on his work clothes, his lawyer came to me. He disclosed a few comments Jack had made to him about an affair. What ever happened to lawyer-client privilege? I would rather not have found out at all than to have found out from the man who helped Jack Ass to take my precious house and all my work away from me… 7
That’s when I decided that the bastard doesn’t deserve to live in such a beautiful home. Not after what he did to me. Fucking that whore, in the bed I designed no less. I’ll just have to hurt him, the way he hurt me the day I confronted him. 8
I hate this scar; ironically it was his wedding band that cut me, right across my cheek. I stare at it so often, wishing I could afford dermabrasion. It is the scar, and remembering my work is now at his mercy, that causes me such pain. The bastard has my house, my things… but I will have his life! 9
I dash out to the garage to the little green Ford Taurus, the only respectable looking car I could afford after getting almost nothing in the divorce settlement. 10
Thanks to no traffic and not hitting red lights, I make it to my house in less than five minutes. 11
I let myself in through the porch. Jack's carelessness finally pays off for me. It used to infuriate me, how he’d come home from work and flop on the leather couch with his can of Budweiser. You don’t want to know how badly that stuff stains. It always made me so mad when he spilled it, and he never cared. 12
"If that whore is here, I'll just have to kill her too. Can't have any witnesses. Witnesses talk. And talk is cheap. Like that whore." I just have to giggle. I always giggle when I’m nervous. I better get a grip on myself, or they might hear me. If they aren’t making too much noise themselves, that is. It really pisses me off that he could make a woman scream in pleasure. He never bothered to try too hard with me. Wham bam, thank you ma’am. Jack Ass. 13
I reach into my black Calvin Klein handbag and pull out the revolver. I unwrap the bullets and the tissues fall to the floor. Whoops, I’ll have to pick that up later. 14
One… two… three… four… five… slip into the chambers with a clink. But, the sixth slips from my shaking hands and falls to the floor. “Shit!” 15
The grey tabby cat that was dozing in the mid-afternoon sunshine leaps off the sill with a hiss. I drop the gun and brace myself for a discharge, diving under the antique mahogany table. 16
I hear nothing but the patter of cat paws on the linoleum floor in the kitchen. 17
“Damn you, Frisky! Always such a nervous little cat! If you don’t stay out of the way, one of these might be for you.” 18
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG! 19
The antique grandfather clock chimes the five o'clock hour somberly. 20
Jack would soon be home from work. I snatch up the gun, and run into the hallway. I check the angle from the linen closet to the couch, and decide it’s good enough. I hate the thought of getting blood on the gorgeous Persian carpet. If I had only gotten the one with red designs, this would all be easier. 21
I squeeze myself into one empty shelf. I can barely see through the slats, but that will be enough. Staying patient might be harder. 22
The clock chimes once more. My nerves and the smell of fabric softener make me feel nauseous. The front door creaks. I grip the gun tighter and wait for his footsteps. 23
As always, Jack flops down on the couch, then turns on the big flat screen TV. 24
I open the door, and my knees crack. Lucky for me, Jack likes to watch Jerry Springer. The trailer trash I usually detest and pity earns my thanks today for not letting the surprise get ruined. 25
I pull out the gun and aim it at Jack’s bald spot. He leans forward to grab his beer, and spills some on the carpet. He promptly plops his feet, with boots still on them, on the table. 26
How could he desecrate my table like that?! My hands shaking with fury, I decide it’s now or never! 27
BANG! The first shot hits the clock above the mantle. It bongs one last time, and sails face first onto the granite hearth. 28
Jack drops the can of beer and it splashes all over the mahogany table, gushes out and soaks into the beautiful carpet. I’ll tend to that after I get rid of the body. But first I have to kill him. He’s looking right at me, with that stupid expression on his face. 29
BANG! BANG! The next two hit the Tiffany lamp and the china cabinet. Jack turned just in time to see colored glass, crystal and porcelain exploding. Oh shit, I should have practiced more! I’ll never replace those things. Now I better focus! I don’t want to hit anything else. Just the Jack Ass, who is now lumbering towards me. 30
I steady my hand and take aim again. 31
BANG! The fourth penetrates his beer gut. Jack makes a face and clutches himself, moaning. Yes! Now he will suffer! But I’m not done yet. 32
BANG! The fifth lodges itself into the bastard’s collarbone. Blood pours out of both holes, as he falls onto the carpet. The blood darkens the greens and blues, and turns the cream an eerie shade of orange. 33
Click! 34
“Damn it!” 35
Where did that sixth bullet go? I want to shoot that slut-fucking dick of his. Let him scream like a whore while he dies! 36
“Meow” 37
“Goddamn you stupid cat! Get out of here!” I yell, throwing the nearest object at the fleeing ball of fur. 38
I finally see the sixth bullet… lying a few inches from the shattered figurine I’d just thrown. Maybe I could grab it, finish off the Jackass, and still get out before the police show up. By now I’m sure that a neighbor has heard and called the police. Gunshots aren’t common noise in this suburb! 39
Oh fuck. I can already hear the sirens wailing as they negotiate the streets. 40
I make a mad dash for the bullet. Miraculously it slips into an open chamber, and I take aim… 41
BANG!42
Finally, I'd hit the mark.43
I stepped carefully over the mess of brains and blood (cannot leave shoe prints, I don't have time to clean those up!), and escaped out the side door. As I closed the door and wiped off the knob, I saw an ambulance fly down the street- on its way to the hospital with some unknown victim.44
I silently thanked the Jackass for insisting on insulating our castle near to soundproof. Maybe he would have regretted all the ways he helped me kill him today... but I sure as hell didn't.45
On the way home, I dispose of the gun, and pick up some McDonald's for dinner. I'm not sure if I feel guiltier about my choice of food, or the fact I left my son alone. All I can hope is that he won't ask why I was gone. Sometimes junk food is just distracting enough to let parents get away with... well, murder.46
Author notes
This is a change of ending from my piece Lucky Fives. It's not the original story I wrote (couldn't find the file) but it does meet the requirements. I used to think I'd feel guilty letting her get away with it, but I'm glad I have an excuse not to
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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Thanks for pointing out the holes, now I know what to fix. THis is version I don't know what of this story- the original was for my horror fiction class in college.
The assignment was to make an atypical monster, and make people question who the monster was. Most people completely miss her materialism being a monstrosity. Bravo for getting it! -
I found this an interesting read, I liked the way that she appears to have much more concern for her house and her belongings than for her husband of even for her child. I have met these kinds of people! I found both her and him particularly unpleasant (for very different reasons) and I really like your fianl comment that junk food (and perhaps TV is implicated too) lets people get away with murder. There were a few lines I didn't understand, like "I had Jack hire a painter, because I simply couldn’t get any paint on my wardrobe." and a few lines I really really liked, such as "I silently thanked the Jackass for insisting on insulating our castle near to soundproof. Maybe he would have regretted all the ways he helped me kill him today... but I sure as hell didn't." Overall I thought it was a good read, but I wonder if you read it all through really carefully after not looking at it for a few days you might find some parts that don't work as well as others. I often find when I'm working on something for a long time that I miss things I later pick up on after a break. Things like she says "I unwrap the bullets and the tissues fall to the floor. Whoops, I’ll have to pick that up later." and she is very concerned about witnesses, but she doesn't go back to pick up the tissues. There is also no explantion of how she got the gun or what she will do with it next. The story ending seems to imply that she will get away with this murder, but the story doesnt seem to explain how.
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Hard to read in what way? Confusing? Slow progression? Too wordy? Not enough description? This is a work in progress and I want to make it as good as it can be.
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i really do like it its a really great write,
it gets a little hard to read after a while tho,
but apart from that its awsome -
Thanks for the love, but what did you think of the story? Please be honest!
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Great story .. it kept my attention which usually doesn't happen with longer writes
.. I really don't like accepting anymore than one write especially if it's a pre-write for contests, but I'll allow it in this one, because I forgot to write it in the contest description .. thankyou for entering and I wish you the best of luck in the contest ...... keep the ink flowing 
~Aimee
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that was a really good write...had me sitting on the end of my seat reading it.well done on this write
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I wanted to try a different ending, and would have done a more in depth rewrite but I didn't have much time- the original assignment asked us to make the "hero" somewhat of a monster too- hence her obsession with material goods.
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Yes, you wrote a very good story here. The descriptions are clear and well done. I really laughed reading how you thought on things like a Tiffany lamp while shooting him lol
Thank you for bring this one to us and all the best with all you do!
Mari
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I have turned my score sheets in to Breda. She will add her scores and announce the contest winner. As to content, I disliked your victim, but did not entirely like your assailent either, she seemed just a little too fastidious, but no deduction of points, just would have liked to have identified or liked your protagonist just a little more. The execution was not necessarily novel, but very well described with a nice element of tension that provoked at least a nervous smile or two. Had this originally been a humor write, you could have gone for more commic relief, but I did rate the execution as good. As to the element of the getaway and or defense, I would suspect that your heroine would receive a visit from the police within 24 hours. A little larceny would have gone a long way. But never the less, evidence lacking, the murder very well might have been successful. So the getaway gets passing marks. Most importantly here, for you, the writer, I believe that the getaway is a valuable element of catharcis. Guilt is a civilized emotion that keeps us from allowing our imagination freedom. The getaway was manditory because I wanted every contestant to relish the rewards of their triumph if only in fiction. Frankly I like this ending better than the original. It just feels more honest. As to humor, there were certainly elements of humor in this write, but as it was not originally written as a humorous work, these could have been significantly stronger for this contest. A good percentage of the judging was based on how funny the write was. This may have detracted from your overall contest score, but it did not detract from my enjoyment nor the integrety of the work. As to style, this was very well written, I recall one minor gramatical error and personally would have done a few minor edits the adjust the speed of the story early on in the write. There is a fine line between adding color to a short story and writing in a distraction. But overall your style was very good bordering on slick. Of stricktly subjective points, based on my own personal criteria, your story earned 90%, need I say more?
As I said, humor was an important criteria in the judging, and this was not written as a ROTFL type of write from its inception, although I believe that it could be modified to get there, if you wanted. But, I suspect, that as it stands, it both made you feel good to write and will continue to elevate the spirits of readers who need an uncivilized outlet in an over civilized way. Thank You for entering!
Peace,
~RJ~ -
Wow
Wow. Usually I don't like reading stories either, but this one is really personal and filled with so much emotion you can't do anything but drop your jaw after you read it. You inspired me to try and write a story of my own. Watch for one coming from me. -
Wow girl, I don't usually like to read stories because most of them are too long and boring, but you were able to keep my short attention span throughout the whole thing. I loved what it was about, so creative and descriptive. Great job.
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this is an amazing write! really grabs your attention!! keep up the great work!!!
one love
kitty x -
This was definately a riveting write, it kept my attention throughout. I would of saved the last bullet for the whore myself. j/k Well it was a joy to read, made me smile how she worried about the carpets.
Red -
The story was Okay in the beginning, got a little lame for a little bit, then it was great. Interesting way to do it. It was too long though. Though if I were to read it in the morning, it would be too shory, and I would like the lame parts better. I'm sure in my stoned/tired stupor (did I spell that right?) I probably missed some, so I'll re-critique it tomorrow. You have my AIM SN, soo remind me if I don't get around to it.
That's what I have to say,
Sofa King 420
(This next bowl's for you)
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