I’m not a Serial Killer … I swear!

What was the last thing you searched for online? Why were you looking for it?

PROSE – DAILY PROMPT – FICTION

Once, I decided to become a writer, a decision I came to after a bit of turmoil. I say this because I decided to change my career after breaking up with my longtime girlfriend. Maybe using the phrase “breaking up” may be a bit of a stretch. Typically, when the term is used, something occurs a fight, disagreement, or mutual understanding. In my case, my girlfriend just changed the passwords and locks and stopped taking my phone calls.

Though I had become aware of the absence, I hadn’t given it much thought. I figured she was spending time with her sister. They weren’t very close, but people change and sometimes try to reconnect. After a couple weeks, I realized she had to be doing something else. So, I reached out to her without success. I pursued her for the next couple of months.

Then, one day, I decided to pack up her clothes and send them to her. However, I had no idea where to mail them to. Finally, I packed up the last remaining article of her existence in my life. Forgive for a moment; I choke up whenever I think about it. Wait. Okay, I’m better now. I picked up the journal I bought from the makeshift desk in the corner. A note fell to the floor.

I can’t believe I was ever with you … I’m joining a covenant. Maybe God will forgive the wicked sin that in you. If not, I hope I’m stricken with cancer or something…pound sand

love,

Joanie

Really? Okay, so she wanted to wish for death. Okay, okay, sister, you got it. I jumped on the laptop. Wait, how does this work? She did all the stuff on the computer. I hit the keys, and the screen remained blank. I went out on the porch and drank a beer, waiting for the girl next door. She had magenta-colored hair and one of those things sticking out of her navel. Belly-button rings, I think they are called.

Finally, she showed up, and I approached her. She swirled around and looked at me strangely.

I put up my hands to let her know I meant her no harm.

“What do you want, you old perv?”

I started to explain myself, but she cut me off.

“I’m not having sex with you; get back!”

I was shocked and stunned because I realized at this moment. The idea of having sex with appeared to be revolting to the opposite sex. “I need help with my computer!” I blurt out before she could cut me off again.

“So, this has nothing to do with sex?” she asked. I shake my head.

“Do not toy with me, mister. I will gut you.” she threatened. I began to ease a bit. I had been promoted from perv to mister. “You need what again?” she asked.

“I need help with my computer. My girlfriend usually helps me, but she disappeared,” I explain.

“Keep going.” she prodded

“Well, I found this note, but before then, I just thought she was visiting her sister or something, but the note…” I continue but stop throwing my hands in the air and walk away. In fact, I was completely flustered. I walk into my house, talking to myself, wondering how I could be such an idiot. Hell, fool even. How could I not see the signs that this woman was done with me? I suppose many men have pondered this question throughout time. There are probably some thinking this very moment.

I hadn’t noticed the girl next door walk in. She had the note in hand, reading it. I watched her. She turned and stepped towards the mantle, noticing the pictures of Joanie and me. She stared at the pictures, then picked up one. Her face flushed with anger. She turned and stared directly at me. I got a little nervous.

“Either you’re horrible in bed, or she is a bitch.” she said matter of factly. She was so calm it was a bit eerie. “I’ll help you, mister.” Her eyes turned from fire to ice right before my eyes.

“Thank you.” I swallowed. Nervously, I began clearing things off the makeshift desk. However, she cleared off the kitchen table.

“I’m gonna coffee and a printer,” she said without looking up at me. My phone dinged, and there was a message. It was a message about the type of printer she wanted. The message even told me which store to purchase it from. She was nice enough to pick one on sale.

I get to the electronics store, only to find myself lost. I looked at televisions, the only thing I understood in the entire store. Then I heard a small voice behind me, “Can I help you?”

There was a small woman. Who couldn’t be any taller than five feet, looking up at me over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. She looked to be my age, perhaps a little younger. She has the most wonderful eyes. The type that held your gaze as long as they wanted. They were pleasing and kind. She took a step back, and I did the same, feeling self-conscious. I found myself wondering if I had put on deodorant or did my breath sink. I swallowed and handed her the phone. She nodded and walked off without a word.

She hummed a tune as she walked around the store gathering things. I couldn’t quite place the tune, but I was certain I’d heard it before. I found myself humming right along with her as she worked. Finally, she had gathered everything and stopped at the counter. She waited for me to give the signal to continue. I nodded, and she rang things up. Somehow, I found my words; I hadn’t realized they had gone anywhere until I tried to speak.

“Is this a good one?” I asked

She gave me a puzzled look momentarily, then smiled as she nodded. As if she wanted to make sure I understood her or perhaps reassure me, she said, “It’s one of the best on the market for the price.” She paused as if she was considering something, “You wouldn’t happen to know a young girl with a belly ring and dyed hair?” she asked, “She’s in her late twenties?”

I looked at her strangely but didn’t reply. She confirmed my silence and continued, “Sally and I are in graduate school together.” I remained quiet letting her fill the void. “Computer Science.” She said as if that was going to clear things up. It didn’t, but I was relieved to discover I had asked the right person for help.

I paid for everything, and she scribbled her phone number on a sticky note telling me to give her a call. I returned home with everything much more than a printer, but I was confident I had everything Sally needed to complete whatever she wanted. Sitting in the driveway, I realized I was nervous because I wasn’t sure what this kid would do. Sally came to the truck and started carrying things inside the house. We finally got everything inside, and Sally went to work.

The aroma of coffee filled the house, and she straightened up a bit. With another sniff, it occurred that she had supper going as well. Before long, Sally had things how she wanted them. I sort of stood out the way. It was clear she didn’t want my help. I went into the kitchen and finished dinner. When I sat a plate in front, she looked strange, like I had committed a cardinal sin for touching her creation. With a shrug, forgiveness seemed to be granted. Hesitantly, she took a bite and then nodded her head in approval.

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Now, I never did find out exactly what Sally did. But between her and Gladys, the woman from the electronics store, they did something awful. I got a call a few weeks later from Joanie, who was actually at her sister’s after all. It turns out her credit was trashed and a bunch of other stuff. I can’t remember because I was laughing too hard. I do know I was an idiot and too stupid to do this on my own. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about, because I didn’t.

Sally and Glady talked me into writing a book about the whole thing and told me to do research on the internet. Well, one book turned two and a series of thrillers. So, if someone were to check my browser history they may think I’m up to something nefarious. I’m not a serial killer … I swear! I’m just a writer.