I have nothing to report this week, dear readers, except for the fact that I am writing this with a British accent.
I may also be very drunk.
In the last six days I’ve
impaled my kids’ security guard, and poisoned Heather’s cousin Janet so that my
bloody assistant would leave me alone for a few days. I’m quite proud of my
spontaneity but I may have taken one of those kills too far.
Because no one is safe
anymore, not even at school, my children apparently need more and more security
– not that it seems to be doing them any good. I managed to walk all the way
through the school, impale the security guard with a prop sword – which is a
messy task, by the way…in case you were thinking about it – and walk away
without anyone stopping me or even seeing me. I fear for my niece and nephew’s
I killed him for good
reason, mind you. He was extremely rude to Sandra when she forgot her lanyard –
because the best way to keep track of high school children is to tag them and
force them to walk around with a name tag – and made her pay a ridiculous fine
out of her own pocket. He treated them like children and insisted that he’s
“keeping them safe”. I’m assuming the school saw the error of his ways because
at the vigil today, the principal announced that Administration and the Board
of Education were entering into talks about how to better protect their
children since there were flaws in their current systems.
For my dear readers who
have children in public school: you’re welcome.
Now I know you’re probably
wondering how I took it “too far”: it was perfectly executed – mostly – I got
away with it in a semi-public location, what could possibly have gone wrong?
Children. Children are
always the answer to that question.
This time it wasn’t really
my children, though. According to my now very quiet nephew the security guard’s
body was discovered by two fourteen year old girls who went to get props out of
the closet. They’re now traumatized beyond reason so the school brought in
grief counsellors and let them loose on the classrooms of impressionable
They called me a monster.
At least that’s what the children tell me. They came home excited about all the
things that had happened at school; how they had a short day and even that was
made short by an extensive visit by a child psychologist who talked about the
horrible things that I, as the killer, had done and how no one deserves to die
in such a horrible way.
Clearly they’ve never met
that man who cut me off on the highway last month.
In any case, the parents
were required to come to the vigil today, to support their children in this
difficult time – I snort. They offered champagne. I drank. James drove home.
I’m writing this. Then I think it’ll be time for a nap.
I mean, how can they
possibly call me a monster? I did that school a favor. If I can walk in how
many lunatics and perverts can just walk into that school? They should be
thanking me. Instead there’s just another police investigation and a warrant
out for my arrest – as the ‘yet-to-be-determined’ Security Guard Stabber.
Yeah, that’s my name now.
I overheard one of the news
stations today, doing their report and they gave me a name – for the one murder they think I committed.
You understand now why I
drank a little more than was totally acceptable for a high school function?
I guess I had a few things
As always, dear readers,