Hey, Readerland. The Ogre is back once again and Day 11 is in my sights. Time to rock and roll! All night? And party every day? Or something. Let's go.
So, what was today's topic? Oh, yeah! It was:
9. Go to Home Depot. Or Lowe's. Or some kind of hardware store. (You can visit the online
versions if you like, but the real deal will be much better.) Find in there one truly creative murder
weapon you don't recall anybody using in their fiction, then write a murder scene with that
weapon in play.
Oh, man, I'm excited for this one. This is the kind of thing I'm good at.
Anyway, we went to McGuckin's Hardware (www.mcguckin.com) here in town and had a blast. We walked over a mile through the store and went through pretty much every aisle looking at things and deciding whether they would be 'good' killing items or not. McGuckin's calls itself an 'everything' store, so there were lots of obvious choices, like guns, axes, machetes/knives, crowbars, rebar. Lots and lots of stuff. Eventually, we started narrowing things down to 'stick,' meaning heavy items to beat someone with or 'pointed stick,' which was something you could stab someone with. Finally, I came up with three items that didn't fit those categories and now I have to pick one. The choices are:
An Aerobie frisbee (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aerobie)
A Glitter Night Light (kinda like this http://www.amazon.com/dp/B000GTP618/ref=asc_df_B000GTP6181815733?smid=A1L4LS2KNDBWYV&tag=shopzilla_mp_1201-20&linkCode=asn&creative=395105&creativeASIN=B000GTP618)
An Appliance Brush (I can't find a good picture, but essentially, it's a wooden stick with really stiff metal bristles along about half the length)
The choice has been made. Let's get started.
Alan shook his head. Something had hit him really hard. He tried to reach up and touch the spot on the back of his head where it throbbed, but he couldn't move his arm. Opening his eyes made his stomach churn, but he defeated this by slowly opening one eye and then the other. He took in the scene in front of him.
The coffee table in front of his chair was covered in numerous odds and ends and there was a man sitting on the couch on the other side of the coffee table. It wasn't someone he knew. The man was watching him with interest. He was wearing an apron and rubber gloves. Alan couldn't move because he was tied to a chair.
"Who are you?" Alan asked, his voice croaking.
"Not important, Alan." The man said. "What is important is that you are going to die. Probably here shortly."
"Wait. What? Die?" Alan asked. "Why...why am I going to die?"
"Because I'm going to kill you, Alan." The man said with a grin.
"Right. Okay." Alan said, the pain in his head making him angry. "I get that. You're going to kill me. Fine. By why are you going to kill me?"
"Because your ex-wife Linda," The man said. "hired me to kill you. Something about you cheating on her. Babysitter or something. I didn't really get the details. She had money, a lot of money mind you, and she wanted me to kill you, so here we are."
"Wait!" Alan yelled. "I have money too! I'll pay you double what Linda paid you to not kill me! How does that sound?"
The man thought it over. "That sounds great, Alan, but I can't do that. You see, I have a reputation to uphold. You understand. Right?"
"This is...this is some kind of bizarre joke and I don't find it funny." Alan said, struggling against the right ropes. "Untie me right now."
"Alan," The man said. "Does this look like a joke?" The man got up and walked behind Alan.
Alan could hear something heavy being dragged across his new tile floor. Another chair appeared next to his and Samantha, the babysitter he and his wife had hired, was sitting in it. She was also tied down and her head leaned against the back of the chair. She wasn't moving. There was an extension cord trailing from her mouth and a soft light shone through the skin of her throat.
"What the Hell?" Alan yelled. "What did you do to her?"
"Part of the deal, Alan." The man said. "I kill both of you for quite a bit of money. Poor Samantha here offered herself to me in exchange for not killing her. She bragged again her oral skills. I just used the nightlight I found in your son's room to see how well she could handle something in her throat. Not very well, it turns out." he said with a laugh.
Alan started crying as he mind rebelled against the thought of dying. "This can't be happening."
"Oh, it is Alan and I think it's about time to finish up. Any last words?" The man asked.
"Will you at least make it quick?" Alan asked.
"That depends on your stamina, Alan." The man said. "If you're like a lot of people who don't want to die, this might take a while. But, some don't seem to take long at all. Ready?"
"Please, no. Don't do this!" Alan yelled through his sobs.
"Sorry, Alan. Rules are rules." The man said, picking up an appliance brush from the table. "Things are about to get messy." The man grabbed Alan by the hair and pulled his head back. "Open your mouth, Alan."
Alan clamped his mouth shut.
The man sighed and pinched Alan's nostril's shut. It didn't take long for Alan to gasp for air. When he did, the man shoved the appliance brush into Alan's mouth and down into his throat, making Alan thrash in his seat.
The man grabbed the handle with both hands and shoved the brush downward before pulling it back up and then repeating the pattern faster and faster. He finally pulled the brush free, Alan leaning forward and vomiting up blood.
"Okay, Alan. This is really going to hurt, but not for very long." The man said.
He held the brush up to Alan's eye and shoved it in as far as he could, Alan hoarsely screaming, blood pouring down his face. When the brush would go no further, the man grabbed a hammer from the table and whacked the handle end of the brush, forcing the end through the optic canal. He hit the end over and over until Alan stopped screaming and finally stopped moving. The man checked for a pulse and didn't find one at the neck or the wrists.
Satisfied his job was done, the man took off the now bloody apron and threw it over Alan and calmly walked out of the house and on to his next job.
Yeah! That was fun! Maybe it makes me a little sick, but I had a good time with that. Lots and lots of fun. It's funny. When we were walking through the store, I'd say "How about this item?" and she would ask "Tell me what you'd do with it?" That's where we came up with the 'stick' and 'pointed stick' options and things that would be too easy to use.
Also, I think I figured out that I would be better at torturing someone than outright killing them. If the FBI or Homeland Security or anybody like that is reading this, I meant fictionally and not in real life.
So, anyway, that's Day 11 in the books and all wrapped up, so now we're on to Day 12! What's in store for Day 12, you ask? Let's find out! My lovely assistant has drawn:
23. Don't write for fifteen minutes -- talk for fifteen minutes. Into a recorder (most phones come
with them nowadays). Don't just ramble: endeavor to tell a story. It can be a story you already
know or one you invent on the spot.
Ugh. This could be ugly. First off, I'm not entirely sure I can attach an mp3 to this blog. It may end up that I have to record the audio as a video, upload it to YouTube and then link to it. Or something. I will think of something and this will probably be the worst one of these yet.
So, that's going to finish up today and I will see you all tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
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