The Dinner Invite

Author's Notes: This is the second part or follow-up to Intrusive Thoughts of a Psychopath. I had thought about doing more with that character and as it recieved a lot of encouraging feedback, I figured I'd continue this warped tale.

You can find the first part here:

***

I hope you don't mind if I ask you a question. It's more a theory...a thought that's kept me awake at night, that I want to run past you.

There's always someone isn't there? A righteous member of the community - one of those far-too-good individuals that will appear on the news. After a horrific double, triple or KFC 12-piece share bucket murder has occurred next door or in a house on their street. They are the kind to say "I always thought there was something strange about him...he kept himself to himself and was very awkward around other members of the community. He didn't...seem right for the neighbourhood...if you know what I mean".

You know what I mean? I mean, I'm sure you do. You're a smart man, aren't you?

Look at him...sitting there...gormless idiot. The way he walks around the street like he owns the place, helping the elderly, doing all these good deeds, I'm sure as sure that he has some dark secrets. What his wife sees in him, I'll never know. His wealth and car, likely. His glasses are always sitting on the edge of his nose, like he's a headmaster or something and his comb over his fooling no one. He does have a very punchable face...I'll give him that. She's all legs with a very kind face, dark brown hair and eyes filled with pain and wonder. I often wonder what her head or just her eyes might look like on my wall or on my bookcase.

"Well, the reason I'm bringing this up. Is that I always wondered why others before me never targeted those people first. A good spree is easier without suspicion at your door."

"Before me? Oh...slip of the tongue. I meant, I don't know why people don't target their neighbours first. Maybe it's to do with crapping on their own doorstep. Still...Anyway, enough about me...I see your petunias are coming on nicely, friend. It really brightens up my late-night viewings from my window. I admire your lovely wife here and her dedication to maintaining them."

"Thanks"

What kind of reply is a single "thanks"? He looks as joyful and grateful as someone who has just been told they have 2 months to live.

“I was delighted when you accepted my invitation to dinner. So, she's running late you said? Well, we can have a couple of beers while we wait for the special guest, can't we?”

I hate his laughter, sounds so forced. I mean, mine is forced, but his is just ridiculous. With his mouth taped shut, there'd be peace and quiet, I imagine.

I wonder about the mess he might make if I walked into the kitchen and grabbed my meat cleaver and cut his throat. Wait...that's too cliched...maybe a thousand little cuts...sounds poetic, I think? It'd ruin the sofa...but on the other hand, I have been looking to refurnish this place. So...every cloud...every sofa....

I’m not sure he would make for a particularly good first victim though, he’d be a bit too easy to overpower and then beat to a pulp. Might be fun to immolate, though. Not enough people use the term immolate in my opinion or practice it in the west enough. But then, I can’t remember if he would be my first victim or my fifth…a lot happens from day to day and leaves me losing track sometimes of whether I’m coming or going. His wife, though, she’d make for an excellent first victim. All the rags would be interested in plastering her face over their front covers. Would they use a picture of the couple together or one of her smiling on her own. I imagine she smiles a lot when she’s on her own.

“Heard anything back from the wife, yet?”

I don’t really care much – just trying to put on the pretence that I’m just like him…

"She's not texted back...but I'm sure she will be here soon. Something smells nice"

If only he knew what I could see.

*

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