Receptionist

Have you ever felt the compulsion to turn around, and wrap your hands around someones neck?

I've literally daydreamed about it.

While I type in my cubical, the sad sack receptionist chomps on her lunch consisting of cut up pears and a Yoplait yogurt. During said lunch I am overtaken with the sound of her agonizing voice as she spits and chews maliciously while talking on her cell phone with her boyfriend.

The smacking of her lips as the food is regurgitated, smoothed out further, and officially swallowed is the only sound I hear.

For this reason I have lost my appetite, developing a new taste, for carnage.

I'd love to start slow as if I were tapping my fingers across the desktop, getting a good grip around the throat. It's like holding a baseball bat and standing at home plate. You have to get a good feel for your grip before you can swing.

After I've firmly grabbed hold of her neck, I'd become repulsed by the residue left from her caked on theater makeup which I've seen rub off onto the company's telephone too many times to tell.

To cure this, I would take a pad of sandpaper and drag it across her bumpy and pitiful mask to smooth out any of the slickness. It no doubt would become irritated and turn red but woudn't bleed unless I add more pressure.

Once the heavy foundation was removed I'd regain my Vulcan grip.

I'd press firmly, feeling the veins in her neck swivel between my thumbs, watching the blood drain to her already cherry red face. Veins would convulse and make themselves known across her forehead while I squeeze and shake her marshmellowed body.

It wouldn't take long until she would finally die adding an extra two hundred pounds to the weight I'm already holding.

I'd use an industrial paper cutter from the office to hack off the limps and dispose of the body in a paper shredding bag.

I imagine her insides bleeding thick strawberry jam where there should be blood.


While dreamers daze, wishful thinkers do.

Not everything in life comes true, until she begins choking on a pear slice. I contemplate watching her die, but decide to do the most humane thing, so I leave the room for her to die in peace.