Chapter 12; Drivel Delirium
Chester sat in a dusty
bedroom in Neighborhood Crane looking out the window facing a large
brown barn. He had barely slept the last few nights from the unfamiliar
noises and quiet. He was perplexed the two bothered him. Why the quiet
before a soft animal noise kept him tossing and turning, supposing
living in barracks and then a trailer had accustomed his senses to
reject country living.
A knock on the wooden
door preceded Van's entrance. She carried two cups of coffee and handed
one to him with a smirk. He grimaced back, taking the much-needed shit for coffee then went back to gazing out the window.
"Ask." She teased, standing to his left.
Chester turned, wanting
to say something rude but didn't. She looked happy. After everything
they'd seen and done, he supposed a few days of hiding in a house with
six people wasn't so bad. Initially, Chester had questioned why Van did
A man and a woman were having drinks when they got into an argument about who enjoyed sex more. The man said, "Men obviously enjoy sex more than women. Why do you think we're so obsessed with getting laid?" "That doesn't prove anything," the woman countered, "Think about this; when your ear itches and you stick your little finger in it, wiggle it around, and then pull it out, which feels better- your ear or your finger?"
There were seagulls squawking in the air when I caught sight of the lovely petite woman I would later know as Dee. She wore all black, not uncommon most days but the veil over her face didn't flutter one iota when a gale wind swept off of the sea while the preacher pronounced the couple getting married husband and husband.
Uncommon to wear funeral wear to a wedding.
Very intriguing to a man such as myself.
Later I caught her trolling the couple once I sussed out her name and connection to the wedding. I myself was a distant cousin of the groom and only attended because I had been in the area. She had not been part of the wedding, only wandered up on the beach already attired like a widow in mourning.
She is beautifully broken and a murderess.
I introduced myself at my cousins funeral a month later when grabbing her by the neck and sticking her with my favorite drug cocktail which allowed enough time for transportation and to sit her down prettily in an outdated dining r…