Murder

It was my Saturday, that Saturday, the weekend where all hell decided to visit the very door that I’d walked through. Yeah, I know, I can hear you looking at me with your questioning eyes. You can keep the words to yourself as you’re going to get nothing from me, apart from this story, the following words and reasons. I'm going to tell you about the Bitch, the Cat, the Rat and the Monster.

The Bitch, that woman all the guys want and dream about. Real provocative with her prerogative of only doing the best. You know her name. There’s always one out there, next to you, with those side glances and smiling eyes. What goes around, comes around and she did just that. We got busy, making plans and doing what two people often did.

Clothes everywhere, the very night before, with the many promises and words spoken after the event. You can’t blame her for being a bitch. You just can’t. She’s worked hard for her body. Those defined curves that need none of my words. Anything I could say would be meaningless as she’s heard all of them before. Instead, we did what comes naturally. She can move. Up, down, back and forth, under or over, she knows that she’s that bitch. The bitch with the scheming and lip biting.

She had every intention and intent. She had all the weapons to show, on show, even when covered. Murder your heart or cripple your mind, she could do all of that and more.

The Cat, the smooth one amongst all of us, gathered within this very room. He knew the words, gliding into all of the rooms, saying all the right things and vanishing again. The schemer, the realiser, the dressed to impress politely scented individual. If you left him alone with your lover, your Mother or your other, he’d know what to do. You probably wouldn't blame him.

That knack, the smack to the side of your head, as he easily manipulates you into doing whatever he wishes. You’d stand beside him, fight alongside him, whilst knowing that he might not do the same for you. The best man, even on his wedding day, as that level of smooth never really fades.

Yeah, you know it, he’s probably got his fingers into all the drawers and motivations. He’d never cry you a river as, instead, he’d save all the tears for himself.

The Rat. That damned rat. The snide filled, preposterously exaggerated slime ball. A part of me wants to like the man, talk to him, yet every word just seems to push me away. He’d sell your soul, your house, your life and your love for a dime. Honesty never seems to feature in his vocabulary, let alone life or thoughts.

He’s the type of loser that would book you a ticket, a great big beautiful ticket, that went the other way. He’d probably snigger at his own deeds, while wishing you’d fall off a bridge. No. He’s never going to be a part of anything resembling a normal person.

The Monster. Finally, we’re here, near the end of my story. The dead one, on the floor, blood all over the expensive carpet. He’s that narcissist. You know the type. Always right, never wrong, living a lie in all shapes and forms. Your opinion, my opinion, mean jack to this type. If you’re looking to impress him, then forget it, as a part of his brain is no longer in his head. There’s also a hole in his chest. Maybe he rubbed the wrong person the wrong way. His snide, smarm filled idiocy rotting away any respect he might have had, if he wasn't a grade A monster.

We all hated the guy. He ridiculed all of us, belittled our ideals, our thoughts and everything about us. I don’t care. Any of the people in this room could have done him in. All with alibis, all spoken for, safe, secured and ever so forgetful. Nothing sticks and nothing would. Yeah, I know, I'm going to smile tonight and walk away from all this.

You see, between you and I, I did it. I'm the quiet one, the calm one, the man with no title or description. I wear the polite smile and use the sensitive charm to my own benefit. I’d help anyone, for anything. I’ll hold the door and carry your bag. I’ll say the right thing, just at that moment, all the while showing my sensitive side. I'm the one that you’d never expect to do anything like this.

Yeah, you hear me. It’s the people like me that you have to worry about, wonder about, as I scheme and deduce the avenue of attack. I’ll rip your arm in two, tear your life apart, walk away without a scratch and laugh as I do it all again and again. I'm the interesting, intelligent, seductive lover of many but lifetime partner of a few. Don’t doubt me, as he did.

Just look at them. Standing there, all shocked. Not because the Monster’s dead, but because they never got to him before I did. He never saw it coming. The brutality, the madness released into the world as the raw energy broke him in half. He tried, he really, really tried, but he never had a chance. Each strike, permanent, precise, with the final two blows made with certainty.

The Bitch, the Cat, the Rat and the Monster have nothing on me. I'm not normally noticed, yet liked by all, as I'm known as the Nice one.

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