The day I murdered seven men

The day I murdered seven men, I was grumpy. But that doesn’t tell the whole story, you see. I was very, very sleepy and I’m rarely happy when I have a bad night’s rest. I start the morning all slow and dopey, but then the smallest thing can set me off. This day – the day I murdered seven men – it was that precious little “princess”. She always acts so bashful and coy, but she’s not. She’s manipulative. She has all the guys clamouring over her and gets them to do all of her dirty work: filing, proofing a Word Doc, franking the post. The other day she even got one of them to clean and dust her desk, fully aware he has allergies! Poor sod was all puffy and sneezy. Unbelievable. She’s like it with all of them, but they just put on a brave face and whistle away their day. Well, they used to. The day I murdered seven men, I was grumpy. But I like to think I put those little guys out of their misery. Not everything is as black as coal or white as snow.

© Carl Burkitt 2016

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