Her Nighty-Night Present

I never liked her much…

She was rude. Snotty. Downright obnoxious, now that I think about it. But none of that was every worse than when she would snatch.

Whenever I brought something home—my new phone, keys to my new (but still used) car, even carry-out that looked pretty good—she would grab it and claim it as hers. Or, worse yet, she would snatch metaphorically by going out and buying the same damned thing… Or something even better.

It was a very hot July afternoon when I bought it. It? you might ask. It is the instrument of my salvation, I answer.

That night, as I watched her doze on the lounge chair that was identical to the one I was given at our housewarming, I pulled it out of the shopping bag (which I had hidden with desperate caution so as not to have her badgering me about it). My sweaty hand almost dropped it two or three times before I was done fiddling with it, but I got it to work.

It found her. It found her right between the eyes.

“Goodnight, J,” I told her.

View this story's 2 comments.