Housewife

Every morning, he wakes, turns to her, and asks her the same question: “How did you sleep, beauty?” And always she shows him the same contented smile. The comfort of all those years spent together is apparent in the curve of those lips. No words necessary. And then he is able to face the world. That’s all he needs. “Get your rest,” he says. “I should be home around six. But I’ll be thinking about you all day.” Oh, make no mistake. Once, there were bad times, very bad times, and they used to try each other greatly. Marriage counseling didn’t work. An open relationship didn’t work. Nothing did. And then he stumbled on the solution. Now they’re just perfect together. She feels it too. Just look at that face. He can’t resist doing so, one last loving glance, as he stands dressing before the closet. Mummification makes the heart grow fonder.

An Ear for Crime

Hickory, dickory dock,

I selected the Hickory family. I had to choose the right one. There were several families with the surname Hickory in this city, in its suburbs. I drove and drove. So many days, so many nights. I scouted. Studied houses and yards patiently. Until I saw the ones with the clock. Right there in their backyard. I knew then. They were the ones.

The mouse ran up the clock.

It was the sundial in the backyard. The clock. I placed it against the wall which I knew had the best window for a stealth entrance. By then, I knew the Hickory family’s schedule. I knew when the kids went to bed. When the parents did. The rooms were all dark that night when I stood on the sundial and leaned against the wall, next to the pretty trellis. I used the glass cutter. I unlocked the window. I was in to do my business. I must say it all went beautifully. Not a whimper, not a pleading out of place.

The clock struck one,

They actually had a grandfather clock in there. Imagine that. I heard it strike one a.m. And people say there’s no such thing as fate. There was one Hickory left alive by then. Her eyes pleaded with me. Her mouth couldn’t. Not with that gag. I had recited the rhyme enough by then, that she must have known what was coming, what that sound from the downstairs clock meant. She must have known that it was time for me to leave. Finishing time. And so I did.

The mouse ran down!

I went out the way I came in. Down to the clock and off through the backyard, racing into the shadows of the bushes and the trees. Then through dark neighboring yards. My car was parked several streets away, where it would not arouse suspicion. I must say I was pleased with the way it all went down. It was the night of the new moon. The cool dark of that night on my skin felt so nice. Thank You, Moon. It took everything I had not to steal peeks at the videos I had recorded of the Hickorys. Such fun we all had. But I waited until I got home.

Hickory, dickory, dock.

The obituaries for the Hickory family were sanitized. The news stories splashed across the front pages, and all over the airwaves and internet, were more sensationalized. Television’s talking heads were fascinated by the murders. They loved that I had left the nursery rhyme behind. They loved that I had left a sprung mouse-trap on each of their bodies. That sort of thing plays well in the tabloids.

But not all the details were released. The police like to hold some gruesome facts back. I get it. They have to play the hand they’re dealt. They have to hold those cards close. To see who knows what. So the darling public didn’t get to learn that the dearly departed indeed showed signs that a mouse had visited. None of the news stories mentioned the gnawing.

For those following my work in the press, they’ll have other rhyme crimes to read about in the near future. Unfortunately, some will be discovered out of sequence. There’s Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, that old battle-axe who writes those letters to the editor constantly. I finished that one months ago. But Mary has yet to return to her gardening . Come spring, when she finally gets back to tending her silver bells and cockle shells, she should find them. I mean those pretty maids all in a row.

I hope she writes a letter to the editor about that one.

I Wrote This Short Piece of Fiction (I Swear) While I Was Asleep

I was really typing while asleep. I remember thinking when I woke up that it would probably have all sorts of trippy leaps that made no sense. But it seemed to read okay. It's louche prose, sure. But I wanted louche.

I think it might qualify as "exciting porn" in Japan. Not sure.

Friend

Keiko followed Marissa down the hallway, but at a safe distance. She blended into the crowd of other girls changing classes. If Marissa had looked back, she would have seen Keiko just standing there, the one still point in that flux of bodies. She would have stood out. And Marissa would have seen her odd stare.

But Marissa didn't look back. She entered the girls bathroom.

Keiko waited as the girls aflutter with conversation, with graded papers in their hands, vanished into the doors of classrooms up and down the hallway. They broke up quickly, like a cloud of butterflies or a snow squall that is over as soon as it's begun

Only Keiko was left standing there. Like a statue in the hallway.

She slowly made her way to the door of the girls bathroom. She made no more sound than a cat. That's how she visualized herself as she looked down at her shoes while she walked.

She managed to open the bathroom door as quietly as it was humanly possible and crept inside.

Marissa was standing at one of the sinks, combing her hair.

"Hello, Keiko," the older girl greeted her. She never turned her head to acknowledge the other girl, and there was no way she could have seen her in the mirror. She was just always aware of everything like that.

Keiko advanced but remained silent.

"Oh, silly me. I forgot to flush," Marissa said. She still hadn't looked at Keiko and continued to fuss with her hair.

Keiko walked to the toilet stall opposite the sink at which Marissa was standing She went to flush the toilet and then realized something was swimming around in the bowl.

She gasped.

"Disgusting, I know," Marissa laughed.

It looked like a salamander. But not quite. It wasn't any animal Keiko had ever seen and she loved to look at books filled with photographs of animals. Then she got a better look at it. It looked like several seahorses glued together.

"You're not going to tell anybody, are you?" Marissa's voice was pure sarcasm. It was a threat.

Now, finally,  Marissa turned and in one quick jump was at the toilet. She used her hand to scoop out the creature swimming around in there, and brought it up to Keiko's mouth, as she forced the younger girl against the wall of the toilet stall.

Keiko tried to fight her but Marissa was so strong. She forced the creature into Keiko's mouth, and by using her hand to nearly suffocate her, forced her to swallow the slimy, jagged creature.

Keiko felt the creature scrambling around in her mouth. Then she could feel the thing making its way down her throat. She knew the moment when it reached her stomach. Marissa stepped back and smiled.

"No, you're not going to tell anyone." She smiled.. It was the same wicked smile which had first attracted Keiko to her, which had made her want her for a friend. Though her other friends had warned her. Even her mother, who liked all children, had disapproved.

"Be good and I'll tell you what it eats. Be even better and I'll tell you how to get rid of it. Are you going to be good?"

Keiko nodded in fear.

"Good. Now you better get back to class. Social studies, isn't it?"

Keiko ran from the bathroom, feeling like she was going to throw up. If only it were that simple, she thought.