I Found the Little Wench and I Killed Her!

Remember the little voice inside my head that wouldn’t leave me alone earlier today? She tried her best to avoid me. She ran through the living room, hiding behind the television. When I reached back there to grab her, she darted out the other side and ran and hid behind the chair. I pulled it back and ran after her when she flew over my head and hid behind the couch. I scrubbed her off the windows where she tried to hide, and chased her through the living room with the feather duster, but she always managed to stay one step ahead of me.

I very quietly pulled the chairs away from the table. I knew she was hiding under there. I gently placed them on the carpet and grabbed the mop and tried a surprise attack under the table but the little beotch ran away from me into the kitchen.

I know! I’ll just scald the living daylights out of her with some hot, soapy water! Yeah, that’ll work! I chased her little monkey ass up and down the walls, all around the cabinets, back and forth on the countertops and still couldn’t catch her. Then I noticed that the little shit took a crap on my canisters (it was actually a couple of drops of grease but I will swear on a stack of bibles that SHE did it!). I scrubbed the stove and the dishwasher and caught her sneaking in the freezer so I tried to scrub her out of there too but she beat me again.

Demon Boy-in-Training even tried to get in on the action and help me. He threw a ball of paper at her. I told him not to throw it near the table because my candles were lit as I passed by him in a mad dash to the bathroom. Apparently that didn’t make sense to him. He figured he could help kill her if he caught the house on fire. By the time I returned from the bathroom, his paper ball was black and in pieces all over the kitchen floor with the flaming remains in the trash can, catching the rest of the paper I had just thrown away on fire. No, she wasn’t in the trash can, but I could hear her cackling with glee at the fact that I now had even more stuff to clean up.

By this time she was tired. She was ready to drop. I had chased her little tail all around the living room and the kitchen, there was no place left for her to go. I have to admit, I was exhausted too. I saw her curled up under the window in the kitchen sound asleep. I tiptoed into the kitchen with the mop and sprayed the living daylights out of her with my trusty death mop spray…and then I squished her like the bug she is.

She’s got to be dead because I haven’t heard a peep out of her anymore today. Call the local papers and tell them I committed murder, I don’t care. All I want is a tall glass of anything alcoholic and some lotion for my poor, chapped hands. The rest of the house can just wait for another day.

I mean seriously, what’s the rush? The little beotch is dead now, so I don’t have to worry…right?

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