High and Tight
I used to have hair down to my knees. But then I got a Brazilian.
Hush Little Baby...
"Will you just shut up?!" the angry mother lashed out. She threw the dirty bowl back into the sink, splashing murky water everywhere. "Shit!"
She stormed across the kitchen to the bassinet.
"Ssshhhhh..." she picked up the baby, already blue, and cold to the touch. "Ssshhh... mummy's here now. Sshhhh..."
My daughter loved playing with dolls. Lately, she wants dolls that are more life like. So I found some kids playing in the park and killed them. Then stuffed them and applied makeup. The smile she gave when she saw the dolls was priceless. I'm the best dad ever!!
’Tis Disturbing. Yes. Yes, It Is.
My dog is always, ALWAYS licking her privates. I mean, she licks and laps and goes at it like it's filet mignon or something. So one day, I licked her down there, too.*
*Tastes like chicken.
Pillar of the community
Jim Larson was a fine shop owner. At 9 p.m. nightly, you would see this pillar of the community descend the stairs of his basement and go to a secret room within. He would sit and talk for hours to the corpses hanging on the wall. Some old, some new.
Bad men and women.
"Now, promise me you will not talk to any strangers Amy." The stressed mummy said as she zipped up her daughters coat.
"I know mummy. There are bad men." The little Red haired girl smiled.
Amy never made it home.
Nobody said there were bad ladies too.
Police survey the scene:
The husband, looking ashen sitting curbside clutching his broken wrist. The wife, lower lip quivering crimson from kissing the dashboard. The car, overturned and twisted with headlights still staring into the distance.
But most chilling, the empty child’s seat in the back-- and the open window.
There she is. A perfect body and beautiful face. She plays so innocently with her friends, teasing me with her giddy laugh and golden locks. I wonder if other men would kill to be me? After all, I get to deliver her parents' mail every day. Soon she'll be mine.
I open the letter hands shaking
Inside: the results of test taken
One name to set me free
The woman who gave birth to me
Eyes overflowing with tears
My heart stops beating in fear
For the name printed black and bold
Is the same name my current wife holds.
Everyday, since the day we moved in, a new one appears. A fresh red handprint on the upstairs window, when none of us are looking. A child’s hand. Wet to the touch, but easy to wash off.
Then one day, a name.
The name of the child I couldn’t deliver.