Words. Words? Words!

Something I’m toying with. I make no promises with anything. Could be a novel.  I want it to be a novel. Could be a spaceship, or a floating dog. Or a toy.

Here- Read- Enjoy-

I wrote it down on the stained napkin in front of me.  BURNING.  All caps.  Just like that.  Above it were listed several other means of death we were willing to try before the end of the week:

STRANGLING

BEHEADING

DISEMBOWLING

PAPERCUT

DRAWN AND QUARTERED

EATEN BY ORANGUTANS

SHOTGUN BLAST

It was hard to figure it out. We were dealing with vampires, after all. And so far, none of the classical vampire techniques seemed to work. Garlic? Nada. Stake in the heart?  Just messy and awkward. All that blood. It was like open heart surgery on a hemophiliac.

Sara was the expert, though. She was the one who understood vampires best. After all, she was a Quantum Physics major. I was just a Liberal Arts major, with a focus on Escapology. People nicknamed me Houdini. I’d gotten good enough were I could recreate a few of his more famous escape acts.

“I still think papercut is the best.  A giant piece of paper- shaped like a katana.  We could cut her with it, and then pour lemon juice into the cut.  Could you imagine the kind of pain a death like that would cause?”

A smile again.  Those dimples.

How beautiful she became when morbid.

Sara pulled pumpkin orange strands of her hair out from the corner of her eye, her fingertips brushing against the long black of her lashes.

“Stop it! I really want Mary Jane dead this time.  No more mistakes. She’s the queen vampire, the leader of the pack. When she falls they all fall down, just like dominoes. It’s so embarrassing that we’ve failed so many times already.  What am I going to tell the chess club if we fail again?  I’ll be a laughingstock.”

I nodded.

“Of course.  But why should this be so uptight?  Why not a little joy in our murder?  It’s not like we’re the ones who are dying.  And besides, I’m not even sure if she can die.  This is like what, our fifth attempt?”

Sara took a bite from her pancakes, a smile on her face as she let the flavor of blueberries and maple syrup roll around on her tongue. “Sixth,” she said with a mouthful of food. “You have to try these pankcakes. Mmm. They are simply _awesome_.”

I sighed and sipped my coffee, never understanding how murder could bring us so close together.  It was like a bonding experience, this little bit of treason.  A way of taking our relationship to the next level. We should have done this a long time ago.  It would have saved everyone a lot of heartbreak.

The coffee tasted bitter.  Like fish. I had to remember to tell the waitress, let her know that something had gone wrong in the kitchen. Not that I was surprised. Most of the restaurants in this town were crap. I guess it’s the same everywhere there’s a university. Cheap all night diners and students living on a budget go hand in hand. “Does the coffee taste funny to you?”

She smirked as she wiped syrup from her chin.

“Yeah.  It tastes a little tingly.  Metallic.”

I sipped mine again.

“Mine tastes like fish.”