Comment, or don't. I'm just writing this for fun.
Making It Up As I Go...
I'm going to tell you a story. It's about a girl. Well, more like a young lady. She's just recently engaged, and just recently dead. I walked in only a few minutes ago to find her body on the floor so you're finding out about this only a little after I am. So, we're in the same boat. Actually, not so much. You're just the person reading this mess that I've found myself in. You can't be held as suspects because, in a sense, you don't exist. Atleast, not from where I'm standing. My name? Yeah, like I'm going to tell my name to you. I don't know you that well and considering that you've just walked in on my little "incident" without warning, I would find it in my best interest not to say a damn thing. I would shut up, but it seem that everything I say or think or say is being written down by some asshole. Yeah, I know about him. He's weird. But I will tell you this about myself: I'm the guy that the dead chick's engaged to...Well, was.
Chapter 1
Holy Hell...
Holy Hell...
SHIT! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shi--... Oh, what? I'm not allowed to freak out? Yeah, you find you're lover dead, in your living room, with a blade sticking out of her freakin' chest that you personally bought...the knife, not her chest (believe me, she didn't need no work but you can see that for yourself. Oh, wait. I forgot, this isn't a picture book. Meh, you're loss) and now I can't even remotely start to think of a way to get myself out of this. I highly doubt the killer didn't wear gloves...Unless, I'm lucky. I could inspect the knife and SHIT! There are no prints on the handle. Hey, maybe I wouldn't be a suspect afte-- But, that still makes me the only suspect. Uh, fuck. Okay. I'm smart, I can figure this out. Okay, first things first, gotta vomit. Whoa! Feeling a bit woozy. Come on, just...gotta...get to the bat--...Ah, DAMN IT! Stupid...eye-level cabinet doors. Oh, man. That hurt like Hell. Ugh, my ears are ringing. That's weird. Wait! Those are sirens. But I didn't call the ambulande...Oooohhhh. Heh, it's a frame. SHIT! It's a frame! So, what does one do in this situation? How many people have been in this situation? O.J....? Bad example. Um, okay. Luckily for me, late night, slept in my clothes. Well, there's one issue solved. There's a tingly sensation in my leg. Did I just piss? Oh, wait. It's my phone. I can't see the name. There's this fuzzy thing blocking the caller ID. What the Hell is wrong with this thi--Oh, yeah my eye. I answer.
"Al (Well, there you go, you know my name now. Fantastic), get to the backyard."
I know that voice. Derek? Has to be. But why is he telling me to get to the backyard? Shhh. Someone's knocking at the door...I wonder if he can see me through the window. Probably not.
"I can see you, sir. Open the door or will be forced to bust it down. "
Uuhhh...fuck. Well, time to run. Hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo... Is it really necessary to write that I'm breathing? It is? Alright...Hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo. Finally, out the door. I can see Derek. He's driving rather quickly towards my backyard. He's gonna stop, right? Nope. I duck to get out of the way. Ironic how I end up jumping into the direction of his car. As I'm flying over the roof of his car, the only thought I can think of is...Who the Hell drives a Gremlin anymore? Oh, yeah. And the other thing I was thinking was aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhh. He opens the door to signal me in. Yeah, cause I need a visual clue. Yeah, why don't you tear up my fence some more, dick.
"So," he says looking me into my eyes...well, atleast the one that doesn't have the giant, red mark on it, "do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into? You're so fucked."
"What are you talking about?" I ask him, slowly rubbing his inner thigh. I lean in to kis--...Wait. That's not happening. Ah, for fuck sake. The writer got bored. HEY! You done? Good. Anyway "What are yo--" No, already said that. Okay. Anyway.
"Your girl Amy? Yeah, she saw the murder of a Mafia stooge. That's why she got hit."
"Wha--...What!!? She never said anything abo--..."
"Yeah, no shit. Would you have?"
"S-So, what....what am I going to do?"
"I don't know. I'm just making it up as I go...(Hey, that's the title of the book...What am I talking about? What book?)"
Well, he was right about something. I'm totally fucked. Badly...
So, yeah. That's it so far. If you want more, let me know. If not, then that's kewl. Like I said, I wrote this for fun.
"Al (Well, there you go, you know my name now. Fantastic), get to the backyard."
I know that voice. Derek? Has to be. But why is he telling me to get to the backyard? Shhh. Someone's knocking at the door...I wonder if he can see me through the window. Probably not.
"I can see you, sir. Open the door or will be forced to bust it down. "
Uuhhh...fuck. Well, time to run. Hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo... Is it really necessary to write that I'm breathing? It is? Alright...Hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo. Finally, out the door. I can see Derek. He's driving rather quickly towards my backyard. He's gonna stop, right? Nope. I duck to get out of the way. Ironic how I end up jumping into the direction of his car. As I'm flying over the roof of his car, the only thought I can think of is...Who the Hell drives a Gremlin anymore? Oh, yeah. And the other thing I was thinking was aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhh. He opens the door to signal me in. Yeah, cause I need a visual clue. Yeah, why don't you tear up my fence some more, dick.
"So," he says looking me into my eyes...well, atleast the one that doesn't have the giant, red mark on it, "do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into? You're so fucked."
"What are you talking about?" I ask him, slowly rubbing his inner thigh. I lean in to kis--...Wait. That's not happening. Ah, for fuck sake. The writer got bored. HEY! You done? Good. Anyway "What are yo--" No, already said that. Okay. Anyway.
"Your girl Amy? Yeah, she saw the murder of a Mafia stooge. That's why she got hit."
"Wha--...What!!? She never said anything abo--..."
"Yeah, no shit. Would you have?"
"S-So, what....what am I going to do?"
"I don't know. I'm just making it up as I go...(Hey, that's the title of the book...What am I talking about? What book?)"
Well, he was right about something. I'm totally fucked. Badly...
So, yeah. That's it so far. If you want more, let me know. If not, then that's kewl. Like I said, I wrote this for fun.