A/N: I was home sick today, and after sleeping until 2:00, I decided to get
up and write. I am newly addicted to writing, so I hope all of you like
how I write because I have a feeling I will be doing quite a lot of it! (
Have fun with the newest edition to my story!
Tom Havelock's Free Time
Tom had free time. Possibly even hours of it, and in all honesty, he didn't know what to do with himself. Not having anything to do was a bad thing; because then the voice in his head would start again with its monotonous (and extremely violent) dirge: Kill her. Tom had no plans to entertain such nonsense, so he decided to help Scarlett out and break the soil in her garden, readying it for warmer days. Days when it would foster can after can of spray air freshener. Days it would spend incubating those horrendous beans.
Lets be honest with ourselves, Tom, those beans don't even taste all that good, do they- thought Tom, with the air of someone coming upon an immense realization.
Quite right, Tom, they taste like fried shit on a stick, if you don't mind me saying-
NONONONONO SHUTUPSHUTUP I CANT HEAR YOU-
Oh yes you can, Tommy old chum, you hear me loud and clear, because you don't really want me to leave; no way uh-uh, you like me because I am brave I can stand up to Scarlett, much more than stand up, too; I can KILL HER and you can kill her! It would be so easy you could just-
Please please no I don't want to kill Scarlett...
OH YES YOU DO NOW I KNOW YOU DO THAT WAS A PATHETIC ATTEMPT TO REGAIN CONTROL OF THE RATIONAL PART OF YOUR MIND TOMMY BUT I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU: I AM THE RATIONAL PART OF YOUR MIND I AM ITS ME NOT THE OLD TOMMY HAVELOCK LETS BRING IN THE NEW TOMMY HAVELOCK LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND HERRREEEE HEEEE ISSSSS!
With that one destroying thought, the "New Tommy Havelock" took power in Thomas Albert Havelock's brain.
Tom once again shook his head violently and stood up. He stretched extravagantly, like a cat after a long catnap. He looked to his left at the peeling burgundy paint of the barn wall. He then turned his head slowly to his right. He saw the gray aluminum siding of his house; then he looked up and saw a small window in the center of the siding. Hmm, I wonder where that window goes? Wondered Tom. He hadn't even known there was a window there. He stood up and took a step forward and fell, hitting his head on the barn.
Slowly, Tom opened his bowling-ball-heavy eyes. Looking around, he saw he was still in the garden. He got up carefully, excruciatingly aware of the intense pain in his left temple and his lower back. He gazed downward to find the cause of his fall. His eyes flickered over the frozen dirt, the hole, and up to the siding. He did a double take. The hole!? Thought Tom incredulously. He hadn't dug a hole! Then Tom realized his aching back wasn't because of the fall. He had unconsciously quarried a huge hole in the middle of Scarlett's garden. It was six feet long and three feet wide, and three feet deep. Suddenly, Tom felt a twinge of pride. I dug that, me! Old arthritic years are far, far off... and then Tom realized what he had done: He had dug a hole, big enough to fit a coffin. Hell, big enough to fit Scarlett! He thought. And then he realized what he meant to do- he meant to kill Scarlett, his wife of ten years, and bury her in her pride and joy: her garden.
Kill Scarlett bury the bitch kill Scarlett then bury the bitch kill then bury kill then bury then Tom is a free man kill, bury, free, kill, bury, free...
A/N: BOO! Scared ya, huh? This story is getting interesting even to me, as I write it! Please review!!
Tom Havelock's Free Time
Tom had free time. Possibly even hours of it, and in all honesty, he didn't know what to do with himself. Not having anything to do was a bad thing; because then the voice in his head would start again with its monotonous (and extremely violent) dirge: Kill her. Tom had no plans to entertain such nonsense, so he decided to help Scarlett out and break the soil in her garden, readying it for warmer days. Days when it would foster can after can of spray air freshener. Days it would spend incubating those horrendous beans.
Lets be honest with ourselves, Tom, those beans don't even taste all that good, do they- thought Tom, with the air of someone coming upon an immense realization.
Quite right, Tom, they taste like fried shit on a stick, if you don't mind me saying-
NONONONONO SHUTUPSHUTUP I CANT HEAR YOU-
Oh yes you can, Tommy old chum, you hear me loud and clear, because you don't really want me to leave; no way uh-uh, you like me because I am brave I can stand up to Scarlett, much more than stand up, too; I can KILL HER and you can kill her! It would be so easy you could just-
Please please no I don't want to kill Scarlett...
OH YES YOU DO NOW I KNOW YOU DO THAT WAS A PATHETIC ATTEMPT TO REGAIN CONTROL OF THE RATIONAL PART OF YOUR MIND TOMMY BUT I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU: I AM THE RATIONAL PART OF YOUR MIND I AM ITS ME NOT THE OLD TOMMY HAVELOCK LETS BRING IN THE NEW TOMMY HAVELOCK LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND HERRREEEE HEEEE ISSSSS!
With that one destroying thought, the "New Tommy Havelock" took power in Thomas Albert Havelock's brain.
Tom once again shook his head violently and stood up. He stretched extravagantly, like a cat after a long catnap. He looked to his left at the peeling burgundy paint of the barn wall. He then turned his head slowly to his right. He saw the gray aluminum siding of his house; then he looked up and saw a small window in the center of the siding. Hmm, I wonder where that window goes? Wondered Tom. He hadn't even known there was a window there. He stood up and took a step forward and fell, hitting his head on the barn.
Slowly, Tom opened his bowling-ball-heavy eyes. Looking around, he saw he was still in the garden. He got up carefully, excruciatingly aware of the intense pain in his left temple and his lower back. He gazed downward to find the cause of his fall. His eyes flickered over the frozen dirt, the hole, and up to the siding. He did a double take. The hole!? Thought Tom incredulously. He hadn't dug a hole! Then Tom realized his aching back wasn't because of the fall. He had unconsciously quarried a huge hole in the middle of Scarlett's garden. It was six feet long and three feet wide, and three feet deep. Suddenly, Tom felt a twinge of pride. I dug that, me! Old arthritic years are far, far off... and then Tom realized what he had done: He had dug a hole, big enough to fit a coffin. Hell, big enough to fit Scarlett! He thought. And then he realized what he meant to do- he meant to kill Scarlett, his wife of ten years, and bury her in her pride and joy: her garden.
Kill Scarlett bury the bitch kill Scarlett then bury the bitch kill then bury kill then bury then Tom is a free man kill, bury, free, kill, bury, free...
A/N: BOO! Scared ya, huh? This story is getting interesting even to me, as I write it! Please review!!
