was ready to leave.
“You have a nice day now, Mrs. Gavin.”
I could smell something was off. Something coming from the living room. Maybe she ate beans yesterday. How could I know?
I opened her front door slowly and peeked out at the street. No one was around. I took a moment to step back and look at Mrs. Gavin before leaving her home. She hadn’t been too talkative during the last part of my demonstration.
She still sat on the couch although she was leaning to the right a lot more now. Must’ve been her bad hip. The sun was higher. It touched her below the knees, showing off her varicose veins nicely. They were so prominent that it almost looked like the blood was on the outside of her body.
I shook my head. Maybe I had a premonition of her death? Maybe I was looking at death?
I turned away not caring for the smell coming from her.
The street remained empty. I stepped out and shut the door behind me. I was clean as I’d washed my hands in the bathroom after masturbating on her carpet in front of her. No one could tell what went on in that house. There were no witnesses whatsoever.
I offered her a carpet shampoo for free. She took it. I gave her a bottle of Carpet Fresh. She allowed me in. I did everything right. I did steal her shoes, but is that a crime worthy of a death sentence?
I put the Kirby in the trunk of my car and drove home.
It was later that night, about 3:15am when someone knocked incessantly on my apartment door. I remember it was exactly 3:15am because that’s when that guy kept waking up in the Amittyville Horror movie.
“What the fuck?” I yelled through the door. “Who the hell’s out there?”
“Police. Open up.”
My heart sank, my stomach dropped. How’s that? Why would they be here? What could I have done?
Realizing I had no choice, I opened the door, even though I was still in my underwear.
Four police officers stood behind two men in business suits. One of the suits looked just like David Caruso on that television police show. The other cop looked like an asshole with his goatee perfectly trimmed and his earring dangling down like a faggot. I would later find out he was. An asshole and a faggot.
“Trevor Ashton?” asshole asked.
“Yeah, that’s me. What’s up?”
Asshole motioned with his hands to the four uniforms behind him and they rushed me, grabbing my arms and handcuffing me.
“Hey.”
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Eleanor Gavin. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney…”
“I know my Miranda rights. Shut the fuck up and tell me why you’re arresting me. What do I have to do with this woman?”
They pushed me against a wall so hard that I lost my balance and fell to the carpeted hallway of my apartment building. I could tell the superintendent wasn’t using a Kirby.
Asshole leaned down to me and whispered his evidence in my ear like he was asking to fuck me.
“We found her body bludgeoned with a meat tenderizer and a rolling pin. She was torn apart on her living room couch. It was so bad that her abdomen was literally shredded, evacuating her bowels on the carpet. One of her neighbors spotted your car out front. It took us over a dozen hours to track you down through your license plate number, but we did. And guess what?”
He stopped and smiled at me. My heart was pounding so fast I thought he could hear its drum roll as well as I could.
“We found the killer’s DNA all over the house. Hairs in the bathroom and kitchen sink. Fingerprints are still being lifted in her kitchen but you wanna know what the best part is? The killer’s semen is still in her carpet, and some dripped on her corpse. We retrieved a fresh sample from her right breast an hour after she was killed. Well, what was left of her breast. My guess is, we’ll find out that semen is yours.”
I panicked. Of course I panicked.
“You have a nice day now, Mrs. Gavin.”
I could smell something was off. Something coming from the living room. Maybe she ate beans yesterday. How could I know?
I opened her front door slowly and peeked out at the street. No one was around. I took a moment to step back and look at Mrs. Gavin before leaving her home. She hadn’t been too talkative during the last part of my demonstration.
She still sat on the couch although she was leaning to the right a lot more now. Must’ve been her bad hip. The sun was higher. It touched her below the knees, showing off her varicose veins nicely. They were so prominent that it almost looked like the blood was on the outside of her body.
I shook my head. Maybe I had a premonition of her death? Maybe I was looking at death?
I turned away not caring for the smell coming from her.
The street remained empty. I stepped out and shut the door behind me. I was clean as I’d washed my hands in the bathroom after masturbating on her carpet in front of her. No one could tell what went on in that house. There were no witnesses whatsoever.
I offered her a carpet shampoo for free. She took it. I gave her a bottle of Carpet Fresh. She allowed me in. I did everything right. I did steal her shoes, but is that a crime worthy of a death sentence?
I put the Kirby in the trunk of my car and drove home.
It was later that night, about 3:15am when someone knocked incessantly on my apartment door. I remember it was exactly 3:15am because that’s when that guy kept waking up in the Amittyville Horror movie.
“What the fuck?” I yelled through the door. “Who the hell’s out there?”
“Police. Open up.”
My heart sank, my stomach dropped. How’s that? Why would they be here? What could I have done?
Realizing I had no choice, I opened the door, even though I was still in my underwear.
Four police officers stood behind two men in business suits. One of the suits looked just like David Caruso on that television police show. The other cop looked like an asshole with his goatee perfectly trimmed and his earring dangling down like a faggot. I would later find out he was. An asshole and a faggot.
“Trevor Ashton?” asshole asked.
“Yeah, that’s me. What’s up?”
Asshole motioned with his hands to the four uniforms behind him and they rushed me, grabbing my arms and handcuffing me.
“Hey.”
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Eleanor Gavin. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney…”
“I know my Miranda rights. Shut the fuck up and tell me why you’re arresting me. What do I have to do with this woman?”
They pushed me against a wall so hard that I lost my balance and fell to the carpeted hallway of my apartment building. I could tell the superintendent wasn’t using a Kirby.
Asshole leaned down to me and whispered his evidence in my ear like he was asking to fuck me.
“We found her body bludgeoned with a meat tenderizer and a rolling pin. She was torn apart on her living room couch. It was so bad that her abdomen was literally shredded, evacuating her bowels on the carpet. One of her neighbors spotted your car out front. It took us over a dozen hours to track you down through your license plate number, but we did. And guess what?”
He stopped and smiled at me. My heart was pounding so fast I thought he could hear its drum roll as well as I could.
“We found the killer’s DNA all over the house. Hairs in the bathroom and kitchen sink. Fingerprints are still being lifted in her kitchen but you wanna know what the best part is? The killer’s semen is still in her carpet, and some dripped on her corpse. We retrieved a fresh sample from her right breast an hour after she was killed. Well, what was left of her breast. My guess is, we’ll find out that semen is yours.”
I panicked. Of course I panicked.
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