What's a Girl to Do? by frogbook Flash Fiction Writing Contest contest entry |
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. How was I to know the hand raising outside the shower curtain held a red rose? You never know what's out there, and if you don't believe me ask Janet Leigh! Well, I guess you can't do that because she's dead, but you know what I mean. My husband knew that ever since I watched Psycho, back in the, what, nineteen-sixties, I suppose, I've had a knife at the ready there on the shower ledge. No crazy man was gonna get the drop on me. Problem bein', I reckon, I forgot to tell my new beau. O.M.G., what a mess, and me just outta the shower. I'm guessin' by the time I'm done, I'll be back in there again. I had to pick the hottest night of the summer for this. I rolled the old boy up in a carpet that I was ready to get rid of, and cleaned up all the blood. For a skinny guy, he had a lot. I was sweatin' by the time that floor was white again. Bein' a good-sized woman (the skinny ones always like me for some reason), I didn't have much of a time haulin' the old boy. It was when I got to the cellar that I had a problem. Good Lord, it's only a crawl space, only so much room. I just gotta start remembering to tell these guys about comin' in when I'm in the shower.
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