Has To Be Done

Yeah. That’s what I do on my weekends – kill my boyfriends. All guys beware.

Pshh. Yeah right.

Hmm. What should I say to him? Hah. I can imagine it:

Me: Go act dead and get in a coffin. I’ll get you food daily and some water if you want some..
Him: What!? Why?! I thought you loved me!
Me: Well, I do! But I’ve been ordered to kill you.
Him: ?!?!?!?!?!! Maybe I should kill you first!!

And I’m dead.

Hmm. Maybe that’ll work? I don’t like this job anyway.. I mean, it’s not like I can quit.. I think and take a glance at my burned foot. I reach down and stroke them, as if petting them will heal them. Halfway down my foot my hand catches under a flap of dead skin and it starts peeling as I move my hand. If I hadn’t assasined people before, I would have absotively FLIPPED at that. Now, it doesn’t seem as gruesome.

That’s the thing. I’ve assasined people before. Why is this any different? Perhaps because I love him? Sigh. Hasn’t stopped me before.

Maybe this has to be done.

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