"What the fuck?" The man's voice called into the dark with a menacing echo. Shit. Slick's cavalier attitude dissolved, replaced by uncharacteristic panic. He collected himself with a start, regarding his forked companion with more amusement than the situation warranted. "Fuckity fuck fuck FUCK," he whispered, suddenly frantic.

His eyes darted around the room, searching for an appropriate exit for himself and, he was sickened to realize, his deceased companion, for he'd made no effort to cover his tracks. It was, after all, the first time he'd killed anyone, and of course, it could be tied back to Charlie. Of fucking course.

He was overwhelmed with what felt like hatred, but couldn't possibly be -- hatred was what he only wished for when it came to Charlie. You bitch, he thought. I do everything for you, and you give me nothing, over and over again. Nothing. You ... bitch. His hands were shaking.

"What the FUCK, man?" The voice again -- louder this time -- breaking his furious reverie. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man edge closer. Fuck it, thought Slick. Fuck it. He fingered the knife in his pocket before reaching for the napkin dispenser, comforted by the weight of it in his hand. A weapon.

Charlie's laugh echoed in his ears.

Comments

[Jett]

As a (former) pick-up-and-bash sort of brawler, I can appreciate the utilization of on-hand weaponry.

Like, appreciate.

[Velma]

I like the brevity of this entry - well edited. I just couldn't stop thinking "fuckity fuck fuck FORK!"

That forkin' imagery sticks with you, man.

[cIII]

Bash someone with a Napkin dispenser, maybe get a little Stabby...use contents of napkin dispenser to clean up any Unpleasantness. That's just good Boy Scout mentality.

[foradifferentkindofgirl (fadkog)]

You know what's really lacking in this story so far? The use of the word 'fuck.' Someone should really fucking rectify that.

[ms picket to you]

Fark. I love this.