#13 - Red on Red

      You are buying a shower curtain to wrap the body in.

      The salesman asks if there's anything he can help you with.

      You say, no.

      You say no because if you were to ask for help, the salesman would recommend a shower curtain to you and you would have to tell him, that no, that's not quite the right one. The one he is recommending is a perfectly fine shower curtain and, assuming you need a shower curtain to, curtain your shower, you would have no problem purchasing this particular model.

      Instead, you need a shower curtain to wrap the body of your son's grade four math teacher.

      And so he leaves and you're standing alone in the shower curtain aisle at the local Zellers. You are bad at this sort of thing. You killed him with a chalk board eraser, but took twice as long because you hesitated mid beating. You are far too conservative at killing people.

      You are the Stephen Harper of murderers.

      You suppose that an honest conversation rather than a bludgeoning would've saved you a trip to the mall, but hey, you had to mail a letter anyway.

      You sigh deeply. You're trying to narrow down your selection. There are far too many shower curtains to choose from in this day and age. You decide that a red shower curtain is important. A red shower curtain will have less of a contrast with red blood.

      This is a mistake most murderers make. They wrap the body in a white bed sheet. Then when the cops find the body, they're looking at a terribly blood stained white sheet. The contrast leaves more of an impression, adds years to the sentence.

      Ok, you think, red.

      You guess that a vinyl shower curtain would be a good choice, probably will hold things together better, be more waterproof.

      Alright, you breathe a sigh of relief, this isn't so hard, this is actually pretty easy. You're making good time, you might even have time to swing by the snack aisle and grab some cheese-its on the way out. Grab some snacks for later when you're home watching who's line is it anyway? reruns, with your feet on the coffee table, and the dog beside you on the couch.

      You can't believe how great the black guy is at making up songs. He should make an album, you think.

      "He should make an album," you say to the dog.

      And the dog, smelling the invisible blood on your hands, doesn't dare disagree.

2009 Broken Chair