35 SHADES OF PURPLE

Chris put the rope down carefully with shaking hands, his arms ached from the strain but it had to be done despite the scratch marks down his back. There comes a point when things just go beyond, and then, a man has to act, a man has to show his dominance, to show his power.

                Now, Sally lay before him on the bed, her eyes staring towards the ceiling, she didn’t move, she couldn’t now, not now, now she was the quiet one, the submissive, now she understood the power that a man can have and he wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood over her.

                He could leave her there now, there was no escape, no where she could go, she wasn’t going to leave the bed unless he allowed it and he gently pulled her negligee back down over her legs, brushing an imaginary fleck of lint from the scarlet red material, there seemed no point in it but he hadn’t meant it to go this far, but after the fist initial squeals and the failed attempt at resistance, he’s found he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop until he’d finished, despite the noises she made.

                He left the room, looking thoughtfully back at the bed, back at Sally. He’d have hell to pay later, but that was later, for now, the house was quiet again as though the walls had held their breath. His friends at work would understand, they’d discussed things like this before, they’d told him he should take charge, show her who was in charge, at the end of the day he worked the hours and paid the bills, so it was only fair he had his own way.

                He boiled the kettle and poured himself a cup of Earl Gray, the adrenaline of the previous actions still pumping through his veins and the spoon clattered against the side of the china. He’d not meant to be so animalistic, so primal, but the clothing she’d worn had been to lead him on, to soften him up, well, he’d certainly showed her.

                He walked back upstairs listening for signs of movement, but he’d done his job well, and as he walked back into the bedroom, he was pleased to see she was still in the same position he’d left her in. The rope mark round her neck looked deep and nasty, but when she’d asked him to go shopping for carpets, damn her, she knew he hated shopping, and that’s when he’d strangled her, could you believe there were over 35 bloody shades of purple to view, that would have taken hours and there was a footy match on the TV tomorrow.

CHICKENS

George pulled his balaclava down over his face and quietly opened the gate. He felt excited and nervous at the same time, which for George, was possibly the most things he’d done at once, ever.

            As he tiptoed down the gravel path towards the chicken coop, he smiled to himself on the perfection of his plan. His boss, Big Mike would be happy when he heard what he’d done, this was the crime that would give their gang the recognition and praise they needed. Yes, Big Mike would be very pleased indeed.

            When he reached the end of the path he stopped and checked the house for any signs of movement and he crouched down behind the car as he watched the windows, holding his breathe so he could hear any sounds other than his own. Finally, satisfied that he’d made it this far without being discovered he moved swiftly towards his target.

            Slowly pulling open the door to the coop, he slipped silently inside, his night vision goggles down and in place as he surveyed the task ahead of him. The coop contained over a hundred bantam chickens, all sitting silently on their nests. 

            George reached into the first cage, and with hands like slabs of meat he wrung the first ones neck. Hardly a noise came from it as the life left its body, and he dropped it before moving onto the other one. After an hour he’d managed to silence almost all of them, and sweat beaded on his forehead below the Balaclava. The thought of so many dead chickens didn’t bother him, but the physical effort of wringing so many necks made his hands ache.

            Eventually, with all the chickens now dead, he slipped back out of the door and back to his car, feeling proud of a hard job well done. Big Mike was going to be so please, so happy that not only had he done what was needed on his own, but he’d planned it too. Maybe he’d get the Rabbit he’d been after now, and he so wanted that rabbit.

            Although it was early he knew the gang would be around so he drove straight to the hideout and parked outside. The old warehouse looked deserted, but he knew they’d been in the cellar, and he giggled to himself as he pushed open the door and slipped inside.

“I done it, Boss, I done it.” George bounced excitedly as he stood before Big Mike. “I done what you wanted. Now the `Gambinos` will have to take us seriously.”

            “Calm down, George.” Big Mike removed the cigar from his fat lips, “What have you done. I thought I told you to clean out the bins, where have you been, and why are you wearing that balaclava.”

            “I killed 125 of them, Big Mike. I done it on my own. I did it for you.”

            “What!” Big Mike stood up. “You killed 125 what?”

            “Chickens.” George smiled “I killed 125 chickens like you wanted, you said you needed to impress the Gambino family. So I went and did it.”

            “You Idiot!!!” Big Mike did not look happy. “What I said was that in order to get in with the Gambino Family, we had to plan a murder most foul.”