Celwriter: I heard the same exact joke from two people who don't know each other within 24 hours of each other. Is that weird or what? They had written it down (IM) and they wrote the exact same thing almost word for word, spelling for spelling, and it wasn't even that good of a joke. Anywho, there's an article on ours truly, JD, on under entertainment and movies from September 6th.
Important: I know that a lot of my readers are reading for entertainment, but I'm writing for practice. I NEED your input. Please, don't just put 'it's good', I do need that, but what's good? I'm so confuzzled.
I updated my POTC fic and now it's much better than before. Please read and review it as well.
PS. I redid the last chapter to add something so if you read it before September 9th, please reread it.
Chapter 37
Mort answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey, is this Mort?" asked the voice on the other side.
"Yes," Mort said cautiously.
"Hi, this is Ricky's mom. I guess that Cel told you that our cat was killed."
"Yes," Mort answered, wondering what the point was.
"Well, I was talking to an officer and he said that someone had threatened you by killing your dog, or pretending to."
"Yes." Mort nodded his head even though he knew that she could not see him.
"I think it might have been that same person. From what I make out, we are connected by our ex-spouses and the man was never caught. Have you heard from John Shooter lately?"
"John Shooter's dead," Mort said without thinking.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, very."
"Thanks." With that, Ms. Depp hung up, so did Mort. Was he sure? Something caught his attention, a thought that he had tried to catch for a while now.
You are Shooter. It told him when he caught up with it. It slapped him in the face. The whole memory of what he had read in Cel's diary caught up with him. He sat down to think.
I killed them. I killed my own wife. I'm a killer. I can't stay like this. I probably killed Ricky's cat and I can't even remember. What will I do next? Kill Ricky? Or...Cel?
Mort couldn't stand this last thought. He would not let himself hurt her, not now, not ever. He fumbled through the house looking for it. He knew it was here some where, Cel had used it to trick him. He ransacked the desk drawers.
He found it.
