Friday, June 02, 2006

I, murderer.

I stared at it, confused at first, bewildered, fearful. Who had done this? I glanced around, half expecting to find someone waiting, sitting like a villain in a B movie, laughing, mocking. But there was no one and gradually it dawned on me, a terrifying creeping realization, there never was.
It was me.
I forced myself to say it. 'It was me!'
Somehow I had done it again, somehow-even though I had tried to resist, fought against it, consulted others, tried to still my baser instincts, somehow, despite all my best efforts, somehow...I had killed again.
There it lay, the proof of my nefarious deeds, dull, lifeless. My hands reached for it, but the moment I brushed against its limp form I snatched my fingers away. What was once a velvety soft thing of beauty, now lay filthy and rotting.
'I'm sorry. 'I said, aloud, dropping to my knees, feeling the tears build in my eyes. 'Im sorry. I'm so sorry. You were so young. So pretty, so...perfect.'
Perhaps that was it? The perfection? I professed to love it, but did I?
A cloud raced across the sun, plunging the room into shadows. I shivered. I stared at the lifeless thing before me. It hardly seemed possible that this was all that remained- this terrible husk- from what was once so majestic, so full of hope, wanting only to live, to survive, stretching always for the light...
Mea culpa.
Wake up Cat!
I had to do something, I couldn't leave it here like this, someone would see, someone would notice, they would look at me and know that I was to blame, that I was at fault, that I was a...
Don't say it.
Who could I blame?
I chewed my lip in consternation. My scalp prickled. There had to be a scapegoat, but who? No, there would be time for that later, first I had to dispose of it, hide the evidence, quick quick, think damn you!
I got up and stumbled blindly for the kitchen. Scarcely breathing I found the tools I needed.
It took a while, these jobs always do. I scrubbed the spot on the floor where it had fallen, spilling its essence on the cool hard tiles. There there, I said to it as I worked, my voice soft as a lover's whisper. I dismembered it, hacking furiously through its limbs, hurrying now. This last stage, when the decision is made, is always fraught with danger. I couldn't risk being caught now.
I lugged the plastic bag downstairs and staggered to the bin, only a few more steps. Come one come on!
Heave, one last Herculean effort.
There. I dusted my hands and stood, my chest heaving, in the sunlight. I was free, I had made it, no one could pin it on me now.
Satisfied, I made my way back to my apartment. I stepped inside the door and listened. Silence, no witness, nothing.
I mixed a drink and wandered into the sitting room, just one more thing now, the seal, the final nail. I did not look at where it once stood.
I dialled a number and rearranged my voice. I must sound convincing, harried, upset and yet mildly angry...
'Etheline? It's me. No I'm not all right, you know that beautiful plant you bought me for Christmas? Yeah, one of the bloody cats destroyed it last night. I don't know I think it was-' I paused, shit- 'the little one, you know he's not right in the head. Hum? Oh I know, it was a beauiful plant, such a shame. Bloody cats, I can't have anything with them.'
There, it is done.
I was free to kill again.


Blogger Gorilla Bananas said...

Forgot to water it? That's what happens when you put plants indoors. I would have trained the cats to pee in the flower pot.

2:11 p.m.  
Blogger Andraste said...

I recently brought my last living house plant into my office. No matter where I put it in the apartment, the little cat, the evil, plant-eating, bizarre heights-reaching, destroyer of green things, OLIVE had been getting at it. It still has half-chewed leaves and looks rather sad and pathetic, but it's alive. Barely.

House plants are overrated anyway. They just SIT there. How are you supposed to remember to water and care for them when they never fucking SAY anything?

2:54 p.m.  
Anonymous MacDara_In_The_Leb said...

I once woke up in a B&B in Scotland on the landing outside my room. At the time I was kneeling down and there was steam coming from the plant. I guess it may have died soon after.

3:09 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

I believe -due to the rot- I over watered, although I probably did this in a panic after a drought.
You know how some people have green fingers? Well I have black fingers, fingers of death, plague fingers, the four horse fingers of death and one thumb slayer.
No matter what type of house plant I find some way to kill it, even supposedly 'hardy' ones. They all last a few months and then I get cocky and murder them. It's beyond a joke at ths stage, I once even killed a cactus, although admittedly dropping it six floor was probably not that way to keep it alive. I have one plant left, it sits in the fireplace and I'm afraid to even look at it lest it wither and die before my very eyes. I noticed yesterday-in despair- that is has some yellow leaves at the base, a sure sigh that Fatmammycatitis is about to strike at any moment.

3:19 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Macdara, was there whiskey involved in your stay in Scotland?

3:20 p.m.  
Blogger LindyK said...

You know what's worse? Having a farmer dad and still being a complete failure at keeping houseplants alive... welcome to my world.

3:35 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Thanks Lindy, I had a farmer dad. And my mother can make plants grow out of thin air it seems. Wel you know what, fuck it, I don't care. I'll just keep blaming the cats and that's it.

3:46 p.m.  
Anonymous MacDara said...

fatmammycat there was lots of Whiskey and lots of Beer mostly due to lack of women.

8:08 a.m.  

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