General Fiction posted October 15, 2024 |
Halloween story edited
Old Dark Water
by EeanBlack
Its nickname is "Old Dark Water". Its proper name is "Lake Plunkent". I prefer Old Dark Water. It fits. The water is so black. We never swim there. Researchers find that an increase in organic carbon is darkening the water and increasing the decomposition rate of other organic matter. It is called browning. We just call it Old Dark Water.
The legend is that this lake is a dumping place for those inclined to rid themselves of any unwanted pest, and let me tell you, people are pests. I can't count the number of bodies found in or near there just in this last year. I can, on the other hand, count the number of bodies placed there by me. That number is three. Three pests and being annoyed by another one at this very moment.
His name is Jerry Bickle. He is such a freaking nerd. Why do I attract these people into my life?
We work at the drive-in theater together. The only operating drive-in theater left within a hundred miles, and Jerry Bickle has to work there, with me, every stinking Saturday Night. I hate this guy!
"Hey Jerry, how's it going?"
"Lousy, like always."
Jerry's voice quality is somewhere between a birthing sheep and a phlegmatic donkey. He just has to go.
"So Jerry, are you coming to my party tomorrow night, or what?"
"I don't know. I've really been in the dumps lately. I can't believe Shannon doesn't like me. I'm a great guy. Don't you think?"
"You're an awesome guy, Jerry!"
I place my arm around his spindly little neck in the creepiest faux bro hug one has ever imagined. The temptation to clamp down and squeeze the life out of the whiny little bastard right then and there is strong, but there are too many witnesses.
"You have to come, Jerry. You're my best buddy, man."
What I want to say is, you have to come, Jerry, how else can I get you black-out drunk, drive you out to "Old Dark Water" and drown your dumb ass in the freaking lake?
But, you simply can't say that to a guy you're about to murder. Trust me on this. It drastically changes the dynamics of a hastily thought-out murder plot. Worst of all, it forces me to improvise. I freaking hate improv!
But, I digress.
"You're coming, right, Jerry?"
"I don't know. Nobody really likes me."
"Yes they do, they just give you a hard time."
"I don't know."
"I tell you what. I'll introduce you to Jenny Cavuto. You know you wanna talk to that."
"Okay, I'm in."
Jerry and I laugh.
Oh, that laugh! If you think his voice is annoying you've got to hear his laugh. One millisecond of that cackle and you will be the one doing the killing. I promise.
HE HAS GOT TO GO!
"Yes! See you tomorrow night Jerry."
*****
She strides across the campsite with an arrogance that only the hottest girl in town can achieve. Jenny Cavuto is dressed to kill as the "devil with a blue dress on." She is also the drunkest girl at the party, and, doing what she does best, making the guys steam.
Walking past the roaring campfire, her silhouette is more than Jerry Bickle can stand.
Jerry is dressed as a ninety-eight-pound sumo wrestler, and, already three beers into his four-beer maximum, and feeling the bullets bounce off his birdcage chest like rain off a tin roof. In all actuality, he is drunk as a skunk and stinking the place up with his whiny, little nothingness self.
He finishes his beer and attempts to crush the can on his head. Two tries without a dent in the can, then Jerry throws the can into the fire.
"Beer me! Beer me, damn it!"
Flying in from the darkness, a full beer can hits Jerry in his chest and falls to the ground. Jerry picks up the can, pops the tab, and chugs the beer.
"That's right, we drink beer around here. Ain't no Chardonnay gonna cross these lips."
"Jerry, calm the heck down!"
"Who said that? Oh, it's you. Sorry man, I know, it's your party, man."
"It's okay Jerry, just tone it down a little."
Jerry leans into me and starts poking my stomach.
"Why, my friend, are you wearing a snorkel?"
"You never know, Jerry, somebody may end up in the water. You gotta be prepared."
"You're a good guy, you know. But, I got one complaint."
God, he sounds even worse when he's drunk. Jerry sinks even deeper into me.
I feel like just moving out of the way and letting his drunk ass fall face-first into the campfire. I would just watch it burn the flesh and hair right off him. But, I couldn't do that. Too many witnesses.
Anyway, I already have a very hastily thought-out master murder plan. It cannot fail.
"What's your complaint, Jerry?"
"My complaint? Oh, my complaint is. My complaint is, that you haven't, haven't, haven't introduced me to Jenny yet."
His speech is so slurred I almost can't understand him. He's forcing me to improvise.
Jerry stumbles toward the fire, and I instinctively reach out and grab the only piece of his costume that I can, his top knot. Luckily, Jerry used spirit gum to hold his wig on, enough to choke a horse.
It is the most opportune moment to allow a bonfire of one annoying little man, and I spoil it with my kindness. What the hell is wrong with me?
As I pull Jerry away from the fire, Jenny rushes to help. Two drunk bodies collide in the weirdest and most unromantic embrace.
Their collision is immediately followed by an excruciating fall to the ground, rendering them both unconscious.
"Jerry meat Jenny. Jenny, this is my buddy Jerry."
There is nothing worse than someone rushing in and ruining your hastily thought-out master murder plan. It causes you to improvise. And you know I hate improv!
So, here I sit with my extremely adequate murder hands in my lap, waiting for a hot girl and my soon-to-be murder victim to wake. What I'll do for a murder rush, amazes even me. I should have gone to work.
****** ******
When I open my eyes, I realize I have been asleep for quite some time. The fire is all but out, and not a soul is around.
Jerry and Jenny are gone as well. I tried to stand, only to find, that my feet and hands are tied.
"What the hell?"
"It's not hell, at least not yet, that is."
I know that whiny little voice. Did Jerry just tie me up in my sleep? Man, when I get loose I'm going off script and sawing that little sucker into pieces. That's what I am thinking. What I say is...
"Jerry, what are you doing buddy? Untie me."
"Untie you? You were going to kill me and leave me in the lake. Why would I untie you now?"
"What are you talking about buddy?"
How does he know I am going to kill him?
"Come on Eean, you've been planning this since you first met me."
"Oh, Jerry, man. I wouldn't-"
"Cut the crap, Eean. I know what you are and I know what you've done. You befriend innocent little nerds like me. When you've gained their trust, you kill them and leave them in the lake, just like what you were going to do with me."
I don't know how he knows, but he definitely knows.
"You know what? You're right. So what, Jerry? You're a freaking, pathetic, nerdy little douche. What now? Are you going to call the cops, Jerry? Or, maybe you're gonna kill me instead."
"Bingo, Eean."
"Wait, you're gonna kill me? You?"
As I laugh, Jerry slaps the snorkel off my head.
"Stand up."
Oh, that hurts! I don't know how I'm gonna do it now, but, when I do it, I'm gonna make it hurt.
"I can't stand up. You have my feet and hands tied. If you untie me I could get up."
Jerry moves in behind me and forces me to my feet.
"Or that", I said. I am surprised at Jerry's strength.
"Hop over to the lake. Let's get this over with."
Jerry prods me to the edge of the water and forces me up to my waste.
"What makes you think you have the guts to kill me, Jerry? It's not for the weak and squeamish. And you are that, a weak little b-"
A surprisingly hard punch to the stomach shut me up.
"On your knees, Eean."
I slowly go to my knees. As I bend, I notice the ropes loosen around my feet. I slip my feet free and wait for an opportunity to catch Jerry off guard.
Jerry holds my head just above the water. How nice of him.
"We both know the history of this lake. The number of bodies found here strains the mind."
Jerry dunks my head under the dark water and quickly raises it again.
"You, my friend left only three bodies here."
"How do you even know that, Jerry?"
"How do I know? I'm surprised at you, Eean. You and I are the same, Eean. All the while you were profiling me, wondering if I was an ideal candidate for your insignificant murderous obsession, I was sizing you up to see if you were any threat at all to my mine. You were."
"Just get it over with, Jerry. I have hell to conquer. You, you'll always just be a tiny, little, insignificant serial killer. A nobody."
"A nobody who just killed you, you dumb ass."
Jerry, again, plunges me under the dark water with serious intent. During the struggle, I am able to free my hands, explode violently from the water, and seize Jerry by his spindly little neck.
I pick him up and throw him deeper into the water.
Jerry bobs up and down in the water, barely able to keep his head up.
"Eean, I can't swim man. Come on man, help me."
"The only thing I want to help you do, Jerry, is to disappear."
I walk toward Jerry and push him under every time he bobs up.
This is the part of the game I like, total control.
Jerry grasps my arm as I push him under for the final time. He fights with the strength of two men. In his last moment alive, Jerry is truly my kind of guy, no whining, just pure fight.
He loses, of course, and I send him to the depths of Old Black Water, just like the other three.
***** ***** *****
He was a good guy, that Jerry. Well, a good guy for a serial killer, that is.
I learned many things from my short acquaintance with Jerry.
The most valuable lesson I learned was that it is okay to deviate from a hastily thought-out plan. Yes, I learned to improvise.
But, I STILL HATE IMPROV!
Halloween Story contest entry
Its nickname is "Old Dark Water". Its proper name is "Lake Plunkent". I prefer Old Dark Water. It fits. The water is so black. We never swim there. Researchers find that an increase in organic carbon is darkening the water and increasing the decomposition rate of other organic matter. It is called browning. We just call it Old Dark Water.
The legend is that this lake is a dumping place for those inclined to rid themselves of any unwanted pest, and let me tell you, people are pests. I can't count the number of bodies found in or near there just in this last year. I can, on the other hand, count the number of bodies placed there by me. That number is three. Three pests and being annoyed by another one at this very moment.
His name is Jerry Bickle. He is such a freaking nerd. Why do I attract these people into my life?
We work at the drive-in theater together. The only operating drive-in theater left within a hundred miles, and Jerry Bickle has to work there, with me, every stinking Saturday Night. I hate this guy!
"Hey Jerry, how's it going?"
"Lousy, like always."
Jerry's voice quality is somewhere between a birthing sheep and a phlegmatic donkey. He just has to go.
"So Jerry, are you coming to my party tomorrow night, or what?"
"I don't know. I've really been in the dumps lately. I can't believe Shannon doesn't like me. I'm a great guy. Don't you think?"
"You're an awesome guy, Jerry!"
I place my arm around his spindly little neck in the creepiest faux bro hug one has ever imagined. The temptation to clamp down and squeeze the life out of the whiny little bastard right then and there is strong, but there are too many witnesses.
"You have to come, Jerry. You're my best buddy, man."
What I want to say is, you have to come, Jerry, how else can I get you black-out drunk, drive you out to "Old Dark Water" and drown your dumb ass in the freaking lake?
But, you simply can't say that to a guy you're about to murder. Trust me on this. It drastically changes the dynamics of a hastily thought-out murder plot. Worst of all, it forces me to improvise. I freaking hate improv!
But, I digress.
"You're coming, right, Jerry?"
"I don't know. Nobody really likes me."
"Yes they do, they just give you a hard time."
"I don't know."
"I tell you what. I'll introduce you to Jenny Cavuto. You know you wanna talk to that."
"Okay, I'm in."
Jerry and I laugh.
Oh, that laugh! If you think his voice is annoying you've got to hear his laugh. One millisecond of that cackle and you will be the one doing the killing. I promise.
HE HAS GOT TO GO!
"Yes! See you tomorrow night Jerry."
*****
She strides across the campsite with an arrogance that only the hottest girl in town can achieve. Jenny Cavuto is dressed to kill as the "devil with a blue dress on." She is also the drunkest girl at the party, and, doing what she does best, making the guys steam.
Walking past the roaring campfire, her silhouette is more than Jerry Bickle can stand.
Jerry is dressed as a ninety-eight-pound sumo wrestler, and, already three beers into his four-beer maximum, and feeling the bullets bounce off his birdcage chest like rain off a tin roof. In all actuality, he is drunk as a skunk and stinking the place up with his whiny, little nothingness self.
He finishes his beer and attempts to crush the can on his head. Two tries without a dent in the can, then Jerry throws the can into the fire.
"Beer me! Beer me, damn it!"
Flying in from the darkness, a full beer can hits Jerry in his chest and falls to the ground. Jerry picks up the can, pops the tab, and chugs the beer.
"That's right, we drink beer around here. Ain't no Chardonnay gonna cross these lips."
"Jerry, calm the heck down!"
"Who said that? Oh, it's you. Sorry man, I know, it's your party, man."
"It's okay Jerry, just tone it down a little."
Jerry leans into me and starts poking my stomach.
"Why, my friend, are you wearing a snorkel?"
"You never know, Jerry, somebody may end up in the water. You gotta be prepared."
"You're a good guy, you know. But, I got one complaint."
God, he sounds even worse when he's drunk. Jerry sinks even deeper into me.
I feel like just moving out of the way and letting his drunk ass fall face-first into the campfire. I would just watch it burn the flesh and hair right off him. But, I couldn't do that. Too many witnesses.
Anyway, I already have a very hastily thought-out master murder plan. It cannot fail.
"What's your complaint, Jerry?"
"My complaint? Oh, my complaint is. My complaint is, that you haven't, haven't, haven't introduced me to Jenny yet."
His speech is so slurred I almost can't understand him. He's forcing me to improvise.
Jerry stumbles toward the fire, and I instinctively reach out and grab the only piece of his costume that I can, his top knot. Luckily, Jerry used spirit gum to hold his wig on, enough to choke a horse.
It is the most opportune moment to allow a bonfire of one annoying little man, and I spoil it with my kindness. What the hell is wrong with me?
As I pull Jerry away from the fire, Jenny rushes to help. Two drunk bodies collide in the weirdest and most unromantic embrace.
Their collision is immediately followed by an excruciating fall to the ground, rendering them both unconscious.
"Jerry meat Jenny. Jenny, this is my buddy Jerry."
There is nothing worse than someone rushing in and ruining your hastily thought-out master murder plan. It causes you to improvise. And you know I hate improv!
So, here I sit with my extremely adequate murder hands in my lap, waiting for a hot girl and my soon-to-be murder victim to wake. What I'll do for a murder rush, amazes even me. I should have gone to work.
****** ******
When I open my eyes, I realize I have been asleep for quite some time. The fire is all but out, and not a soul is around.
Jerry and Jenny are gone as well. I tried to stand, only to find, that my feet and hands are tied.
"What the hell?"
"It's not hell, at least not yet, that is."
I know that whiny little voice. Did Jerry just tie me up in my sleep? Man, when I get loose I'm going off script and sawing that little sucker into pieces. That's what I am thinking. What I say is...
"Jerry, what are you doing buddy? Untie me."
"Untie you? You were going to kill me and leave me in the lake. Why would I untie you now?"
"What are you talking about buddy?"
How does he know I am going to kill him?
"Come on Eean, you've been planning this since you first met me."
"Oh, Jerry, man. I wouldn't-"
"Cut the crap, Eean. I know what you are and I know what you've done. You befriend innocent little nerds like me. When you've gained their trust, you kill them and leave them in the lake, just like what you were going to do with me."
I don't know how he knows, but he definitely knows.
"You know what? You're right. So what, Jerry? You're a freaking, pathetic, nerdy little douche. What now? Are you going to call the cops, Jerry? Or, maybe you're gonna kill me instead."
"Bingo, Eean."
"Wait, you're gonna kill me? You?"
As I laugh, Jerry slaps the snorkel off my head.
"Stand up."
Oh, that hurts! I don't know how I'm gonna do it now, but, when I do it, I'm gonna make it hurt.
"I can't stand up. You have my feet and hands tied. If you untie me I could get up."
Jerry moves in behind me and forces me to my feet.
"Or that", I said. I am surprised at Jerry's strength.
"Hop over to the lake. Let's get this over with."
Jerry prods me to the edge of the water and forces me up to my waste.
"What makes you think you have the guts to kill me, Jerry? It's not for the weak and squeamish. And you are that, a weak little b-"
A surprisingly hard punch to the stomach shut me up.
"On your knees, Eean."
I slowly go to my knees. As I bend, I notice the ropes loosen around my feet. I slip my feet free and wait for an opportunity to catch Jerry off guard.
Jerry holds my head just above the water. How nice of him.
"We both know the history of this lake. The number of bodies found here strains the mind."
Jerry dunks my head under the dark water and quickly raises it again.
"You, my friend left only three bodies here."
"How do you even know that, Jerry?"
"How do I know? I'm surprised at you, Eean. You and I are the same, Eean. All the while you were profiling me, wondering if I was an ideal candidate for your insignificant murderous obsession, I was sizing you up to see if you were any threat at all to my mine. You were."
"Just get it over with, Jerry. I have hell to conquer. You, you'll always just be a tiny, little, insignificant serial killer. A nobody."
"A nobody who just killed you, you dumb ass."
Jerry, again, plunges me under the dark water with serious intent. During the struggle, I am able to free my hands, explode violently from the water, and seize Jerry by his spindly little neck.
I pick him up and throw him deeper into the water.
Jerry bobs up and down in the water, barely able to keep his head up.
"Eean, I can't swim man. Come on man, help me."
"The only thing I want to help you do, Jerry, is to disappear."
I walk toward Jerry and push him under every time he bobs up.
This is the part of the game I like, total control.
Jerry grasps my arm as I push him under for the final time. He fights with the strength of two men. In his last moment alive, Jerry is truly my kind of guy, no whining, just pure fight.
He loses, of course, and I send him to the depths of Old Black Water, just like the other three.
***** ***** *****
He was a good guy, that Jerry. Well, a good guy for a serial killer, that is.
I learned many things from my short acquaintance with Jerry.
The most valuable lesson I learned was that it is okay to deviate from a hastily thought-out plan. Yes, I learned to improvise.
But, I STILL HATE IMPROV!
The legend is that this lake is a dumping place for those inclined to rid themselves of any unwanted pest, and let me tell you, people are pests. I can't count the number of bodies found in or near there just in this last year. I can, on the other hand, count the number of bodies placed there by me. That number is three. Three pests and being annoyed by another one at this very moment.
His name is Jerry Bickle. He is such a freaking nerd. Why do I attract these people into my life?
We work at the drive-in theater together. The only operating drive-in theater left within a hundred miles, and Jerry Bickle has to work there, with me, every stinking Saturday Night. I hate this guy!
"Hey Jerry, how's it going?"
"Lousy, like always."
Jerry's voice quality is somewhere between a birthing sheep and a phlegmatic donkey. He just has to go.
"So Jerry, are you coming to my party tomorrow night, or what?"
"I don't know. I've really been in the dumps lately. I can't believe Shannon doesn't like me. I'm a great guy. Don't you think?"
"You're an awesome guy, Jerry!"
I place my arm around his spindly little neck in the creepiest faux bro hug one has ever imagined. The temptation to clamp down and squeeze the life out of the whiny little bastard right then and there is strong, but there are too many witnesses.
"You have to come, Jerry. You're my best buddy, man."
What I want to say is, you have to come, Jerry, how else can I get you black-out drunk, drive you out to "Old Dark Water" and drown your dumb ass in the freaking lake?
But, you simply can't say that to a guy you're about to murder. Trust me on this. It drastically changes the dynamics of a hastily thought-out murder plot. Worst of all, it forces me to improvise. I freaking hate improv!
But, I digress.
"You're coming, right, Jerry?"
"I don't know. Nobody really likes me."
"Yes they do, they just give you a hard time."
"I don't know."
"I tell you what. I'll introduce you to Jenny Cavuto. You know you wanna talk to that."
"Okay, I'm in."
Jerry and I laugh.
Oh, that laugh! If you think his voice is annoying you've got to hear his laugh. One millisecond of that cackle and you will be the one doing the killing. I promise.
HE HAS GOT TO GO!
"Yes! See you tomorrow night Jerry."
*****
She strides across the campsite with an arrogance that only the hottest girl in town can achieve. Jenny Cavuto is dressed to kill as the "devil with a blue dress on." She is also the drunkest girl at the party, and, doing what she does best, making the guys steam.
Walking past the roaring campfire, her silhouette is more than Jerry Bickle can stand.
Jerry is dressed as a ninety-eight-pound sumo wrestler, and, already three beers into his four-beer maximum, and feeling the bullets bounce off his birdcage chest like rain off a tin roof. In all actuality, he is drunk as a skunk and stinking the place up with his whiny, little nothingness self.
He finishes his beer and attempts to crush the can on his head. Two tries without a dent in the can, then Jerry throws the can into the fire.
"Beer me! Beer me, damn it!"
Flying in from the darkness, a full beer can hits Jerry in his chest and falls to the ground. Jerry picks up the can, pops the tab, and chugs the beer.
"That's right, we drink beer around here. Ain't no Chardonnay gonna cross these lips."
"Jerry, calm the heck down!"
"Who said that? Oh, it's you. Sorry man, I know, it's your party, man."
"It's okay Jerry, just tone it down a little."
Jerry leans into me and starts poking my stomach.
"Why, my friend, are you wearing a snorkel?"
"You never know, Jerry, somebody may end up in the water. You gotta be prepared."
"You're a good guy, you know. But, I got one complaint."
God, he sounds even worse when he's drunk. Jerry sinks even deeper into me.
I feel like just moving out of the way and letting his drunk ass fall face-first into the campfire. I would just watch it burn the flesh and hair right off him. But, I couldn't do that. Too many witnesses.
Anyway, I already have a very hastily thought-out master murder plan. It cannot fail.
"What's your complaint, Jerry?"
"My complaint? Oh, my complaint is. My complaint is, that you haven't, haven't, haven't introduced me to Jenny yet."
His speech is so slurred I almost can't understand him. He's forcing me to improvise.
Jerry stumbles toward the fire, and I instinctively reach out and grab the only piece of his costume that I can, his top knot. Luckily, Jerry used spirit gum to hold his wig on, enough to choke a horse.
It is the most opportune moment to allow a bonfire of one annoying little man, and I spoil it with my kindness. What the hell is wrong with me?
As I pull Jerry away from the fire, Jenny rushes to help. Two drunk bodies collide in the weirdest and most unromantic embrace.
Their collision is immediately followed by an excruciating fall to the ground, rendering them both unconscious.
"Jerry meat Jenny. Jenny, this is my buddy Jerry."
There is nothing worse than someone rushing in and ruining your hastily thought-out master murder plan. It causes you to improvise. And you know I hate improv!
So, here I sit with my extremely adequate murder hands in my lap, waiting for a hot girl and my soon-to-be murder victim to wake. What I'll do for a murder rush, amazes even me. I should have gone to work.
****** ******
When I open my eyes, I realize I have been asleep for quite some time. The fire is all but out, and not a soul is around.
Jerry and Jenny are gone as well. I tried to stand, only to find, that my feet and hands are tied.
"What the hell?"
"It's not hell, at least not yet, that is."
I know that whiny little voice. Did Jerry just tie me up in my sleep? Man, when I get loose I'm going off script and sawing that little sucker into pieces. That's what I am thinking. What I say is...
"Jerry, what are you doing buddy? Untie me."
"Untie you? You were going to kill me and leave me in the lake. Why would I untie you now?"
"What are you talking about buddy?"
How does he know I am going to kill him?
"Come on Eean, you've been planning this since you first met me."
"Oh, Jerry, man. I wouldn't-"
"Cut the crap, Eean. I know what you are and I know what you've done. You befriend innocent little nerds like me. When you've gained their trust, you kill them and leave them in the lake, just like what you were going to do with me."
I don't know how he knows, but he definitely knows.
"You know what? You're right. So what, Jerry? You're a freaking, pathetic, nerdy little douche. What now? Are you going to call the cops, Jerry? Or, maybe you're gonna kill me instead."
"Bingo, Eean."
"Wait, you're gonna kill me? You?"
As I laugh, Jerry slaps the snorkel off my head.
"Stand up."
Oh, that hurts! I don't know how I'm gonna do it now, but, when I do it, I'm gonna make it hurt.
"I can't stand up. You have my feet and hands tied. If you untie me I could get up."
Jerry moves in behind me and forces me to my feet.
"Or that", I said. I am surprised at Jerry's strength.
"Hop over to the lake. Let's get this over with."
Jerry prods me to the edge of the water and forces me up to my waste.
"What makes you think you have the guts to kill me, Jerry? It's not for the weak and squeamish. And you are that, a weak little b-"
A surprisingly hard punch to the stomach shut me up.
"On your knees, Eean."
I slowly go to my knees. As I bend, I notice the ropes loosen around my feet. I slip my feet free and wait for an opportunity to catch Jerry off guard.
Jerry holds my head just above the water. How nice of him.
"We both know the history of this lake. The number of bodies found here strains the mind."
Jerry dunks my head under the dark water and quickly raises it again.
"You, my friend left only three bodies here."
"How do you even know that, Jerry?"
"How do I know? I'm surprised at you, Eean. You and I are the same, Eean. All the while you were profiling me, wondering if I was an ideal candidate for your insignificant murderous obsession, I was sizing you up to see if you were any threat at all to my mine. You were."
"Just get it over with, Jerry. I have hell to conquer. You, you'll always just be a tiny, little, insignificant serial killer. A nobody."
"A nobody who just killed you, you dumb ass."
Jerry, again, plunges me under the dark water with serious intent. During the struggle, I am able to free my hands, explode violently from the water, and seize Jerry by his spindly little neck.
I pick him up and throw him deeper into the water.
Jerry bobs up and down in the water, barely able to keep his head up.
"Eean, I can't swim man. Come on man, help me."
"The only thing I want to help you do, Jerry, is to disappear."
I walk toward Jerry and push him under every time he bobs up.
This is the part of the game I like, total control.
Jerry grasps my arm as I push him under for the final time. He fights with the strength of two men. In his last moment alive, Jerry is truly my kind of guy, no whining, just pure fight.
He loses, of course, and I send him to the depths of Old Black Water, just like the other three.
***** ***** *****
He was a good guy, that Jerry. Well, a good guy for a serial killer, that is.
I learned many things from my short acquaintance with Jerry.
The most valuable lesson I learned was that it is okay to deviate from a hastily thought-out plan. Yes, I learned to improvise.
But, I STILL HATE IMPROV!
I'm working on something light-hearted, with a happy feeling at the request of one of the authors. I don't know whether to write a Pome(the author is pomelover, I have to throw her under this bus) or a short, funny, happy story. But this is a Halloween story. It will have a twist. Tell me you don't know a guy like this.
Pays
one point
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