Puppy Pie

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(Currently being rewritten)

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It is a well-known fact that only psychopaths hate chocolate cake. Well, I don’t like chocolate cake, and also, I kill people for fun.

I’m not like, mean about it or anything, don’t worry. It’s super fun. I dress them all up pretty-like and we watch Bridget Jones’ Diary and I make them cry at all the good bits while I feed them cake. Oh yeah, and I’m a girl. I know it’s not relevant but I bet you thought I was a boy. So before we get back to Bridget, I’d just like you to know that yes, I kill people for fun and I have a vagina at the same time.

So anyway, there was no real trigger for me or anything. I wasn’t like abused or anything. My childhood was pretty normal. Mostly. Well, my mum did spend most of the time dressing me up for baby shows and when I got too old for them, she’d just put them on at home every day. It was so much fun! She’d give me a score for how well I did my songs and if I did well then we’d both eat a slice of chocolate cake and watch Love, Actually – her favourite movie, by the way – and I’d cry at all the good bits for her… I mean… but… If I didn’t get a good score then she’d lock me in the basement and I’d have to eat out of the fucking dog bowl while the fucking bitch sat upstairs stuffing her fucking face with all the fucking cake that her fucking bitch mouth could take…

But anyway, it was fine other than that! She’d always tell me how pretty I was and how one day I’d be so pretty that I’d scare away all the boys.

Now I know what you’re thinking: Egh. A girl-serial killer who’s hung-up that she hasn’t got a man – such a cliché. But I do! His name is Simon! Say hi Simon-

-My Name is Harold. Please just let me go.

Don’t be silly, Simon. We’re not at the good part yet. Hugh Grant is dancing on his own but oh- wait 'til he gets downstairs, Simon. Here… have some more cake.

Please, I have a wif-gghh

So anyway, where was I. Oh yeah, so I used to have a dog called Simon. He was such a good boy. Widdle fwoppy ears-

-Stop! You’ll pull them off-

-And a big sqwunchable nosie-

-pleadse sdopp-

He was such a happy boy. I used to play with him every day before I’d do my show. Then one day I played with him for too long and I forgot my dance. Well, mummy couldn’t let me get sloppy. So she made Simon into puppy pie… I’m not gonna lie. Simon was yummy- OH WAIT! Here it comes, the doorstep scene… Oh it’s so sad… Get ready to cry Simon-

-waitwaitwait. Please don’t twist that… nononono-

-AWWW-

-ARRRRRHUHUHUHUUHUH-

Awww, I know, Simon. I love how sensitive you are. Here, have some more cake-

-Uhhhuhuhuhhffhffhffhff.

There there. It’s okay. They stay friends in the end. Spoilers, I know. I hate people who spoil the ending…

…

… Well, well Simon. Time to go to the basemeeent!!!

Please, I’m begging yo- ooff!

Down the stairs we go! Enjoy the flight. Weeeeeeee-

-ARRRRRRRRRRRRGH...

… Wasn’t that fun Simon? See you’re fine. Oh no… Oh no… you- you made a mess on your dress… Mummy’s not gonna be happy… She’s gonna be mad. She’s gonna make me eat out of the dog bowl. Look at what you did Simon. LOOK AT WHAT YOU FUCKING DID!

-PLEASE GOD NO!

I’M GONNA FUCKING GUT YO- Oh dearie. I forgot my meat-cleaver. Oopsie! I’llllll be right back…

…

… Are you there? Listen, whoever you are, get me out of here. I don’t know how I got here. One minute I was loading up my groceries and this girl in a tutu jumps out of nowhere and starts miming to fucking Whitney Houston with her phone. She did actions and everything and then asked me to give her a score. I just figured if I gave her 10/10 she’d go away but she didn’t and all I remember is waking up here in a silver poufy dress with make-up caked all over my fa-

-I’MMM BAAAACCCCKKKK! And I brought my meat-cleaverrrr. Now gimme those knuckles. C’mon, open your hand.

Just… just kill me now.

Open your hands, Simon.

Just kill me.

We can’t makeses da puppy pies wivvout da kernuckles.

KILL ME!

Not ‘til after the contest, Simon!

Oh Jesus.

Now just open your hand-

Pftoo!

… Did… I… did you just SPIT on me? I can’t believe you just- MUUUUUUM…

… YEEEESSSS DEAAAR!

SIMON JUST SPIT ON ME!

Oh BAD Simon! BAD BAD Simon!

Kill me.

Oh. Oh look at him. He’s not even close to ready Bridget! Oh, and he’s all filthy! Do you want to eat your puppy pie out of the dog bowl again?

No mummy, I swear, he fell down the stairs-

-You pushed me-

-SHUT UP YOU STUPID DOG!

And you’re LYING to me now too?!

No mummy, he’s lying. He just jealous ‘cause I’m gonna do better than him in the dance contest.

I’m not dancing for you people.

I hope he’s jealous for your sake, Bridgie. You don’t want to spend the night down here, do you?

No mummy, no.

Good girl. Well… We’ll have to skip the knuckles,-

-Awww, but Muuuum-

-he needs to learn his dance routine.

I am not dancing.

Oh, you’re not? Well, how about I let Bridgie take your knuckles then, hmm..?

… fine.

Fine, what?

I’ll... dance.

Yes… Simon’s a good boy. Isn’t he, Bridgie?

Yes, good boy, Simon.

Yes, yes he is… what are you, Simon..?

… A good boy.

Alright. Time for the dance contest!

WHOOPIE! Dance contest!

Now first Simon, you have to learn your routine. I’m gonna let your hands free. Buuut… If you try anything, I’ll let Bridgie cut off more than your knuckles, okay?

… okay.

Right, now… Bridgie, put on Whitney. Simon, you’re gonna move your hands in a circle and point when she says "hour". And then do it again on "fade".

(“… Clock strikes upon the hour and the sun begins to fade”)

Good Good. And now shimmy to the left and shimmy to the right.

Like this mummy?

Yes, like that Bridgie. Now, now Simon, you haven’t got it yet… Nope… Why don’t you say “Shimmy” as you do it…

… shi-shi-shimmyuhuhuhuh…

(“And when the night falls”)

And we’re gonna clap at the end of each line. READY?

(“Ohh I wanna dance with somebody”)

*Clap**Clap**Clap*

(“Yeah I wanna dance with some-”)

Oooh we’re getting it-WAIT! THAT’S MY MEAT CLEAVER, SIMON!

MY NAME. IS. HAROLD! ARRRRGGHH- ERRRGH- ERRRR… errr… ehh...

…

...

… Does this mean I win, Mummy?

No, it doesn’t! NOW we have to go get another one! I hope you’re happy.

I didn’t mean to leave it there!

And good luck getting it out of his chest, Bridgie. He stuck it deep. Get upstairs.

No, please mummy! Ow!

Upstairs! Now!

Ow!

Don’t make me drag you up! This is why you always come second place!

OwOw. Let gooo!

This is why you scare off all the bo- WOAAHHH!

…

...

… Mum?

...

… Mummy?

...

MORE PIE FOR MEEEE! Oh- You’re still here!

So… do you like Bridget Jones?