Upset Plans

 

His voice was more annoying than I would have though by looking at him. It was nasal and unevenly toned. “Miss, you shouldn’t be out her alone so late.”

“Thank you for your concern sir. I’m waiting for a friend.” I lied, playing my role impeccably.

His face changed.

“They’ll be here soon, it’s ok.” I assured him, smiling warmly and exuding confidence.

He mumbled something and moved on.

Just as I’d expected, the park was populated, only an hour later, by a small group of young men. Five of them wandered through the grass towards me. I continued to fiddle with the cell phone, as if the ancient piece of crap was actually concerning me. Just inside my sweatshirt was one of the knives, already positioned in an easy-to-grab place. An idea occurred to me. I’d committed every murder so far with knives. It was my weapon of choice, especially since I was too young to buy a gun. I muttered “s**t.” and left for the bus stop, making sure every few yards that I was alone.

My next kill; this insanely dangerous plan to pick off gang members would need a different weapon.

The next morning, I decided to attend to my social business. My birthday was in a matter of months, and I’d not planned any aspect of my annual party whatsoever. So, what would I do, at the expense of my parents? Roller skating (thirteenth), ice skating (fourteenth and fifteenth), bowling (sixteenth), and Chuck E Cheese (last year’s) were out of the question. My eighteenth birthday was going to be adult, if I had any say in it, and sophisticated. A costume party would do quite nicely, but it was probably over my budget. Maybe a trip to a beauty parlor? No. A dance? No. Bonfire? A trip out of town? Dinner at a fancy restaurant? Movie and dinner? No, no, no, no!

Low-budget parties are hopelessly hokey. My parents put hardly any money into these special, once a year events. My list of non-hokey options still stood with only one item: costume party.

I grumbled audibly as my head sank to the table and crashed, shaking the brain inside my skull. I might as well tip cows to celebrate eighteen years of life. There was no way I could convince the parents to go expensive.

I rolled my eyes under their closed lids and raised myself back into a sitting position. I wandered to the garage, and began picking through ideas as I dug through the family sports gear. Fishing poles, bicycles, soccer balls and tennis rackets stared back at me. Then, in the corner for the basket which held all this useless crap, I spotted a piece of treasure.

A wooden baseball bat looked back at me. I picked it up and sauntered to the backyard, where I swung it against a slender tree. I smiled when I saw that it left a dent after the crack. I’d found my new favorite murder weapon.

Reviews

[Brie]

Nice! I like that we go from birthday party planning to finding a new weapon!
-Brie