Murderess Comes Out of the ClosetBy Sheri Williams (WigglyPaw)
July 25, 2008
I awake in the mornings now with glee in my heart and
the knowledge that I have gotten away with these murders!
I am very proud! Oh Happy Day!
For many years, I was just your normal, average plodding
citizen. I avoided bad language and confrontations. I
bypassed the aisles of poison in the supermarket in the
dull apathy of the righteous. No longer! I run, yes, I run
to the poison aisles knowing that I am not in the least
bit standing out by buying these deathly chemicals.
Happily, I load up my cart, whistling zip over to the
plastic bottle aisle and with carefree abandon, pay for
my purchases with a personal check. Who will care? Who
will have the passion to hunt me down as I do my
dastardly deeds? I say no one! That’s the beauty of my plot!
Do it out in the open!
On the way home, I stop for a tank of gas and see a friend
out for a walk on the local street. I wave to her, knowing
that she has no idea that she is waving to a assassin. I am
anxious already to get home, it has been too long since I
last blithely killed. I am having the desire to mix my
potion and get down to business. I have a victim in mind and
they are unaware that their time on this planet is severely
At last, at home, I get down to business. I mix in a large
bucket, the poison and water and delightedly recognize the
powerful and noxious fumes emanating from this seething
trough of annihilation. It is still a carefree day for me, I
can tell you that! Lugging the bucket out to the backyard,
I carefully place it down, gently gently so none of the
liquids spill, and turn to face my trussed and tied victim.
They are silent. The wind is still, the sun is overhead now,
the pinnacle of height over my action. I can feel the sitting ducks anguish, unspoken cries of futile agony, its crushing
desire to be free. Too late I think. Its too late! But my
mind and knowlege know better, its never too late!
With aplomb, and a vacant attitude, I begin to dip a cup into
the roiling concoction; I am flagrantly unconcerned with
the possibility of it getting on my skin, stupid dumb I know,
but at this point, with the imminent satisfaction of providing
the elixir of death to my immobilized prey,
I begin to pour.
The liquid flows out of the cup, in a clear sparkling twining
river of death. There is no stopping it now. I am watching the
way it turns and ripples and hits the mark. Success! I am in
for it now! No turning back, no retreat from this madness. I,
for a moment, glance around, but there is no one watching from
shifty curtains, moving cars...I am safe, secure in my
openness and visibility. Who would suspect that I am a killer?
Dear sweet me, always with a smile, a happy word to my friends?
If they only knew what lurks behind the facade of guileless facial
expression. If they could only see the workings of my unrelenting
With my deed done, I sit back on a chair, and watch my victim, who
has to gulp the liquid, there is no alternative. They cannot get
away or avoid taking in the poison! There is no choice! They are
bound feet and arms, their silent mouth open to the ingestion of
this noxious murderous fast potion of passion. With one last lingering
look, I watch the final silvery glimpses of the liquid disappear
down into my preys maws and I am replete with a job well done.
I don't have any guilt. None. When, I wonder, will feel the need
to repeat this murder again and again? With joy, I realize that
I can do this again in two weeks.
Without a care in the world, and feeling just so great, I walk back
to the house with my bucket, emptied now, and plan on my rest of
the day. The victim will dissolve into the soil and never leave
a mark of their ever being there in the first place! Ha! I cannot
wait till next year, and the next, when my criminality can be
unleashed again. I am perfection! That’s me-the organizer and the
For so many years, I denied my passions! I disavowed the possibility
of allowing a dark side of me to exist. I only lived for the
short durations of flush and happy times, the possibility of
such vivid color that I could not take my eyes from life. But, no longer.
My victims have become my life, my expectations of them and their
fragile beauty and my time spent with them, all encompassing. I am
taken by a tide of unrelenting passion and all my moments are spent
thinking about them. I have given myself to them and they, to me. Our
symbiotic relationship is now tied forever more, in these twines of
rope and wire, death and destruction. I love my innocent victims!
With calm mind, I casually return to the mark, and take picture
after picture, mindful of the sun behind me now, and rush into the
house to download them onto the computer where I crop, Photoshop the
extraneous out and joyfully post them onto the group of mass murderers
that I belong to. Death, they cry. They cry death death death!
Death to all Japanese beetles and their disgusting lives of destroying the
fleeting beauty of our short blooming lives of roses. Death to their
children! Death to their parents and their aunts and uncles. Death
to all of them! I am so fulfilled, so full of expectation and joy,
that I am basking in the words of congratulation on the application
of the lethal poisons that work underground to kill all the bugs
and then continue to be taken up by my beautiful roses, and further
kill off any missed beetle who dares to even nibble one of its
fragile gorgeous petals. My roses have soared to heights never
before seen by me. My poor dears have suffered so many years...
never again! Their happiness is my only care in the world. And, for that,
I delightedly will kill, and kill and kill.
Footnotes and Sources of Poisonous Pictures:July 2008;Permissions with cookies.