Bored, bored, bored. Wow, two of my fish are pregnant now. That male fish
is a player.
Still might be kinda' confusing, but, hang in there!
Chapter 2: Murdered, but Not Dead
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I didn't do nothin'."
"I didn't do anything. Anything."
They had both said.
"You killed that man."
That's what they had said.
"He was already dead."
True?
or False?
True. Of course. But yet false. False in the eyes that don't believe. All eyes but two. In those two eyes, it was the truth. But no one else wanted it to be. So, according to them, it was false.
But you wouldn't get it, now would you? You wouldn't understand how it feels to be turned against by everyone you've ever known.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It all started out two paces from the stop sign on Fern Street, 4 blocks up from the Parker store, 18 feet down to the corner of Lexington and Hamilton, and across the street to where the sidewalk ends, and the story begins.
It was a normal day, or, as normal as any day ever is. Blue sky, green grass. The usual. Not that I've ssen any other color of grass or sky. So, I guess it was normal. But I don't like calling things , 'normal', it makes them seem boring. So, I guess I'll call it, 'usual'. Not so boring sounding.
I hate boring.
Nothing about me is boring, really. My name's not. I've never met anyone else named 'Kyler'. But, who knows, there might be someone with that name that I haven't met. There's alot of people I've never met, so how would I know?
I like to keep things interesting. Doesn't everyone? Well, I hope not, because I don't want to be just like everybody else. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a goth or anything like that. I;m not really rebelling, either. It's just the way I am. Just the way I want to be.
There's not that much about me that's incredibly unusual though, to my disapointment. I don't have 6 toes, or anything. I talk fast. Really fast. I don't try to, not really. It just comes out that way. It's fine with me though, not everybody talks fast. Not all the time.
Well, anyway. Back to the story, and the 'usual' day. Not normal. Remember that.
I can't really say the truth without making this too interesting. Maybe that's why we're headed where we are going now in the first place. Because of me, and my need to make things interesting. No, not need.
Because of my job to keep things interesting. Yeah, my job. If I don't, who else will? Nobody, that's who.
But my job that day was not to keep things interesting. No, that certain day it was to clean a house.
Exciting, isn't it?
Yeah, that's what I thought. But Haven said, 'Come on. It'll be nice to do something for someone else now and then.'
So, I went along with it. 'cause he was gonna' go with or without me. That's just the way he is.
So, there we were. Two paces from the stop sign on Fern Street, 4 blocks up from the Parker store, 18 feet down to the corner of Lexington and Hamilton, and across the street to where the sidewalk ends.
We stared up at the house. No, the the big house, no the huge hou--- whatever. It was big. And we had to clean it.
Well, first we had to go in it.
We'd made it to the gate.
"Looks haunted." I said. That was an underestatment. It looked like one of those old, creepy, haunted houses from horror movies.
"No way." Haven said, looking at the house. His voice was wavering. "No it's not. It's not."
"Whatever. Then you can go first." I told him, gesturing towards the gate, "It'll be your honor."
He looked at me nervously, I laughed, "And your last honor."
He squealed, and backed up. I laughed again.
"Come on, let's go home." I said, starting to walk back.
"No, man. Come on, Mr. McGregor really wanted us to clean his house, he's too old to do it himself." Haven said, pleading with me. I sighed.
"Then why can't he hire a maid or something?"
I reluctantly walked back up to the old rusty gate, flipped the lock, and glanced back at Haven before opening it.
"Right behind you. Behind you." Haven squeaked.
I pushed the doors open, and they swung with a large sharp moan. I heard Haven sqeak again from behind me.
"Let's go." I said, "Mr. McGregor is waiting for his next victim!" I threw my head back and feighned an evil laugh. Haven just about fainted.
Then I heard it. A scream. Not a fake on either, a real blood-curling scream that cut through the air.
I just about jumped out of my skin, and so did Haven.
"What was that?" He croaked.
"Uh, maybe we should get out of here...." I said, starting to get more and more freaked out by the minute.
Another scream. Worse than the first, but weaker at the same time.
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, let's go." Haven said, running back towards the gate.
"Unlock it!" I yelled at him, as he fumbled with the gate doors.
"I'm trying, it's stuck!" He groaned, "Why did you lock it when we came in!"
"To scare you!" I yelled, "Now open it!"
"Well, you're plan worked! Unfortunatly, it worked a little too well!" He screamed, still fumbling with the lock.
"Come on, let me see it." I said, grabbing it from him. It was rusted together. "No way!" I exclaimed.
"Come on, something freaky is happening here, we have to get out." Haven said, starting to climb the fence, I followed.
Too late.
Someone had heard the screams. Called the cops.
And cops don't want to hear your side of the story. They put together their own.
'You killed that man.'
Whatever.
Still might be kinda' confusing, but, hang in there!
Chapter 2: Murdered, but Not Dead
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I didn't do nothin'."
"I didn't do anything. Anything."
They had both said.
"You killed that man."
That's what they had said.
"He was already dead."
True?
or False?
True. Of course. But yet false. False in the eyes that don't believe. All eyes but two. In those two eyes, it was the truth. But no one else wanted it to be. So, according to them, it was false.
But you wouldn't get it, now would you? You wouldn't understand how it feels to be turned against by everyone you've ever known.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It all started out two paces from the stop sign on Fern Street, 4 blocks up from the Parker store, 18 feet down to the corner of Lexington and Hamilton, and across the street to where the sidewalk ends, and the story begins.
It was a normal day, or, as normal as any day ever is. Blue sky, green grass. The usual. Not that I've ssen any other color of grass or sky. So, I guess it was normal. But I don't like calling things , 'normal', it makes them seem boring. So, I guess I'll call it, 'usual'. Not so boring sounding.
I hate boring.
Nothing about me is boring, really. My name's not. I've never met anyone else named 'Kyler'. But, who knows, there might be someone with that name that I haven't met. There's alot of people I've never met, so how would I know?
I like to keep things interesting. Doesn't everyone? Well, I hope not, because I don't want to be just like everybody else. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a goth or anything like that. I;m not really rebelling, either. It's just the way I am. Just the way I want to be.
There's not that much about me that's incredibly unusual though, to my disapointment. I don't have 6 toes, or anything. I talk fast. Really fast. I don't try to, not really. It just comes out that way. It's fine with me though, not everybody talks fast. Not all the time.
Well, anyway. Back to the story, and the 'usual' day. Not normal. Remember that.
I can't really say the truth without making this too interesting. Maybe that's why we're headed where we are going now in the first place. Because of me, and my need to make things interesting. No, not need.
Because of my job to keep things interesting. Yeah, my job. If I don't, who else will? Nobody, that's who.
But my job that day was not to keep things interesting. No, that certain day it was to clean a house.
Exciting, isn't it?
Yeah, that's what I thought. But Haven said, 'Come on. It'll be nice to do something for someone else now and then.'
So, I went along with it. 'cause he was gonna' go with or without me. That's just the way he is.
So, there we were. Two paces from the stop sign on Fern Street, 4 blocks up from the Parker store, 18 feet down to the corner of Lexington and Hamilton, and across the street to where the sidewalk ends.
We stared up at the house. No, the the big house, no the huge hou--- whatever. It was big. And we had to clean it.
Well, first we had to go in it.
We'd made it to the gate.
"Looks haunted." I said. That was an underestatment. It looked like one of those old, creepy, haunted houses from horror movies.
"No way." Haven said, looking at the house. His voice was wavering. "No it's not. It's not."
"Whatever. Then you can go first." I told him, gesturing towards the gate, "It'll be your honor."
He looked at me nervously, I laughed, "And your last honor."
He squealed, and backed up. I laughed again.
"Come on, let's go home." I said, starting to walk back.
"No, man. Come on, Mr. McGregor really wanted us to clean his house, he's too old to do it himself." Haven said, pleading with me. I sighed.
"Then why can't he hire a maid or something?"
I reluctantly walked back up to the old rusty gate, flipped the lock, and glanced back at Haven before opening it.
"Right behind you. Behind you." Haven squeaked.
I pushed the doors open, and they swung with a large sharp moan. I heard Haven sqeak again from behind me.
"Let's go." I said, "Mr. McGregor is waiting for his next victim!" I threw my head back and feighned an evil laugh. Haven just about fainted.
Then I heard it. A scream. Not a fake on either, a real blood-curling scream that cut through the air.
I just about jumped out of my skin, and so did Haven.
"What was that?" He croaked.
"Uh, maybe we should get out of here...." I said, starting to get more and more freaked out by the minute.
Another scream. Worse than the first, but weaker at the same time.
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, let's go." Haven said, running back towards the gate.
"Unlock it!" I yelled at him, as he fumbled with the gate doors.
"I'm trying, it's stuck!" He groaned, "Why did you lock it when we came in!"
"To scare you!" I yelled, "Now open it!"
"Well, you're plan worked! Unfortunatly, it worked a little too well!" He screamed, still fumbling with the lock.
"Come on, let me see it." I said, grabbing it from him. It was rusted together. "No way!" I exclaimed.
"Come on, something freaky is happening here, we have to get out." Haven said, starting to climb the fence, I followed.
Too late.
Someone had heard the screams. Called the cops.
And cops don't want to hear your side of the story. They put together their own.
'You killed that man.'
Whatever.