When I get home from work, I go outside and watch them – it feels perverse. Like I should tell them to rub the lotion on their skin or something.
“Killing is not so easy as the innocent believe.” – Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
I’ve said it once but I want to be clear – I’ve hunted animals before… this is different. It hasn’t exactly kept me up at night but with a 45-yo bladder, I think about it all nine times I get up to pee each night.
To make matters worse, my back has been out since I bought them (though I am starting to feel better today). Nonetheless, the constant nagging water-torture like pain has made me an emotional basket case and a real douche to live with (sorry, Jen).
I bought a 16.5″/2.5lbs Meat Cleaver to do the deed. Is this how Dexter Morgan feels?
Then there’s the other goose. Will it have survivor guilt. Will it pine for it’s little friend. Then I think, maybe I should kill them both, that way neither one will miss the other. Is that psychopath thinking? “I’ll kill you… I kill all your friends too just for knowing you!”
Maybe at the last minute I’ll flinch… or maybe I’ll go through with it and Jen will finding crying in the floor of the shower.
What if it looks at me?
“It’s a nice day, Lennie. Go ahead and take off your hat.”
“Okay, George. Are we going to have rabbits on the farm, George?”
“Sure, Lennie. Now look out across the river and imagine how it will be.”
“Just me and you, George?”
“Sure, Lennie. Just you and me.” BANG!
11 Days to go. Tick-tock, Clarice.