This fanfiction was a bit of a dedication to the members of MTC's production of "Arsenic and Old Lace", as well as the house members who sat and deciphered all the lovely sexual innuendos. I don't even know what genre this was supposed to end up as, but I can guarantee that it will be pretty much all of them in the end. Good Lord. Have mercy, this will likely be the worst, most unrefined, inappropriate thing I've ever written. ~Cat.

Rating: T+, I think. For swearing, blood, and implied sex.

Back in Brooklyn, the weather had begun to cool down just a little. A light breeze danced over the creeping vines on the front porch, releasing a sickly sweet scent through the cracked living room window. A robin sang a song that would soon be missed, its voice drowned out by the obnoxious horn of a taxi. Inside, an elderly man convulsed in the chair, a cracked wine glass at his feet. Moments later, his violent movements ceased. Martha drew her hand over his eyelids.

"Well, well," the younger sister murmured, biting a thumbnail, "that one at least had the manners to finish the wine before he died." She grinned and hopped up youthfully, smoothing a stray wrinkle out of her dress. [Are you by any chance GIDDY at the sight of dead senior citizens? 'Cause I know I am!]

Martha pursed her lips and rose more slowly, surveying the lifeless corpse that eerily retained its upright posture. "Slow down, Abby, darling," she sighed, taking in the face of Mr. Edwinsonn from every angle. "Alright. If he said so. Remember, sister, caution is key in large-scale operations like this." As her sister came around the small table, she leaned over a bit to lift him beneath the armpits.

"What next?" The ivory-haired one grunted inquiringly. The sisters took the stairs slowly, carrying the fellow between them. "I mean, I was a bit nervous last time. I'm not sure what happened after..."

Her opposite tutted as they reached the dank landing. "Well, we have the coffin there, as you remember," she pointed out to a crudely-hewn box tilted against the cellar wall. "And then, Teddy prepares the body, poisoned with yellow fever, and prepares to throw him into an unfinished lock. Normally, he'd carry it down as well, but we're getting our exercise for the day." They shared a brief wink when Mr. Edwinsonn hit the floor with a strangely satisfying thump. [Why did I say it was satisfying? Errk.]

Abby perched daintily on the edge of an empty wine crate, staring off into the dank space. Martha swatted at a cluster of dancing dust motes, sighing. "You know, I was thinking about our other nephew the other day," she said, bringing herself around to sit next to her sister, who was unpleasantly agog.

"Why are you thinking about him?" Abby spat venomously. "After our father died, and the incident with Mortimer- We swore we'd never speak his name again under our roof." She pursed her lips, a precarious expression phasing over her tight face.

Her sister laughed dryly. "I didn't say his name, dear. I alluded to him." She gazed at the water-stained ceiling, blinking as the water dripped down into the freshest lock. "I think it's time we let Jonathan Brewster be free from our thoughts. I daresay we don't need to worry about him, as he doesn't worry after us." Her fingers danced over each other feverishly, and then released to sit on either knee.

"Perhaps... perhaps you're right," Abby mumbled, resting her chin in hand. Her eyes still shifted tensely, as though keeping a grip on something. "I'll never forget what he did to our poor Mortimer. It was-" [ORGASMIC.]

Martha cut in. "Nightmarish, I know. There are some things we'll never forget," she sighed raggedly. "The violence, the strange books. The last bit was, I agree, horrid, but it's best we push it away. The more we talk about it, the more susceptible we are to bringing it up to Mortimer." Head was shaken vigorously.

"Especially with what successes he's had with Elaine. We wouldn't want to throw a wrench in that." A weak, concerted smile was exchanged as the sisters stood, gracefully ascending the stairs. "Speaking of Elaine, aren't the two of them going to see another show this evening?"

Martha inclined her head as they reached the living room. "Yes. When I spoke to our Mortimer yesterday over the telephone, he seemed quite chipper." She grinned at her sister, checking the supply of wine left in the bottle. It was almost full, and there was another one in the dining room hutch.

"Seems as those two children are getting along like the birds and bees," Abby muttered, cleaning up the broken glass with her apron. A scent of spilled wine hung in the air, sharp and acidic. That was wiped away from the creaking floorboards, leaving nothing but a stain on the clean linens. [Seems as though you just used the wrong analogy...]

Her older sister clucked, taking away the threatening green bottle. She slid the cabinet shut with a thump and exhaled heavily. "I do hope the Reverend doesn't think anything less of him, the picture of the forever-bachelor archetype, the modern utopian." A hand crept up to her forehead, rubbing in a roundabout, tired fashion.

Abby nodded and plopped down in the chair that, not an hour ago, had held a dead man's body. She heaved a sigh reciprocally, a forlorn expression upon her face. "Soon, summer will be over, dear. We'll have to shut up the windows for another few months, the azaleas will die..." It was true, the days were getting colder, and going outdoors had become a pasttime replaced by working on the autumn and fall projects connected with the church and the poorhouses.

"Oh well, Abby." Martha paused before trimming the lamp on the mantlepiece. The lines on her face were etched drastically, making her appear more wise and sagely than usual. "Things do happen during the winter, while we hibernate. But, for now, there's still a few weeks left. No reason to be so desolate." [Moar necroseks in winturr, sis. Gawsh.]

The younger sister sighed as the sun set. A robin sang a pining call beneath the picture window in the front room, casting a blacker shroud over the silenced Brewster house.

Afternotes: Ahh, random fillerz. Well, there was some foreshadowing... I'm such an obvious noob. 8D