The PostPosted: January 17, 2016 | |
The post sat on the passenger seat of the ’98 Corolla. Kevin ran his hand over it. Cold. He lifted it from the seat. Heavy. He had cleaned it thoroughly both times he had used it, but he shouldn’t have kept it. Not smart, fictional boy, not smart.
He found it by accident. Meg was drunk – she was always drunk – and blathering on about her newest book being a raving success. Accolades abounded. They were sitting on the park bench where the body was eventually found.
He spied the post on the ground a few feet away. It was one of those metal fence posts made to be driven into the ground, but it had rusted and was just a few feet in length. Without a word he walked over, picked it up and then positioned himself in front of her.
He pummeled her until her faded black cardigan was wet with blood and gore, her smug face unrecognizable. It gave him a rush. It gave him satisfaction. It shut her up. It was fascinating, really, to see the insides of a person’s head.
He liked to imagine what it was like for that jogger – some lady in a too perfect outfit – finding Meg, one of her eyes still hanging by a nerve. It made him smile.
The second time was less fun but exhilarating none the less. He actually liked Dr. Shell. But he made a mistake, connecting with her in real life. She was the only one who knew the Superman behind his blog’s Clark Kent. Now, before meeting Jason, she had to go. No loose ends.
Someone would likely find her body in the morning, if her rescue dogs didn’t eat her first. The thought gave him a chuckle.
Jason had arranged this all online. They had bantered, quipped and joked. Kevin hid his loathe behind funny comments. Eventually, Jason wanted to meet in real life. Maybe grab a coffee.
In truth, everything Jason wrote made him seethe. He hated how Jason had manipulated his way to “wordpress fame.” More than 50,000 followers for his trite, uninformed “opinions.” Why did people laud him so? His thoughts, his writing were pedestrian. Nothing to be excited about.
Kevin smiled to himself imagining how one blow from this post will drop him. He will be on his knees, blood trickling down his face, looking up at Kevin. Wondering what the hell was going on. The second blow would take him out. Dozens more will finish him.
Kevin’s phone said 4:25. He saw Jason arrive, park and get out of his car. Kevin exited the Toyota and walked toward the tree, arriving just as Jason walked up.
“We finally meet.” Jason held out his hand for a shake, then saw the post. “What do you have there?”
“Just a post. A guest post.”
Apologies to those mentioned in the above. I set out to write something funny to respond to Jason’s post about not accepting guest posts and it took a dark turn. I truly love you all. Except Tommy, that guy’s a dick.