‘Aisha’ – Death in Vegas


Daily Prompt: What’s the first line of the last song you listened to (on the radio, on your music player, or anywhere else)? Use it as the first sentence of your post.

Aisha, we only just met but I think you ought to know: I’m a murderer.

It started off so simply: my neighbour had a really irritating laugh, and sat outside on his terrace every evening, constantly braying his moronic chuckle. One night, I was really irritated by him so started chucking peanuts out the window at his head, but missed. The nuts fell in his glass of beer, or his food maybe; he swallowed them somehow. I didn’t know he was allergic to nuts, but it seems I didn’t really care. Because as he choked to death on his porch and his housemates ran around in a panic, screaming and crying, I sat in my room, calming watching and eating the rest of the murder weapon. The silence from that house is now blissful.

Then, in work, I ‘accidentally’ spilled my coffee on the steps as the office bitch was walking down. Her dumb cheap flappy flip-flops that she got free with some bright pink gossip magazine had no grip; her foot slipped and down the stairs she went. I heard her skull crack as it hit an edge of a step, and I knew I would nevermore have to listen to her prattle. I did quite enjoy the sound of her death rattle, though, I have to say.

After that, I got bloodthirsty. I stole some tranquilizer from my father’s veterinary clinic, intended for enraged bulls. I hit a needle in my sleeve, and went roaming the town at nighttime. I stuck men pissing in doorways, women falling off their stillettos, gropers, shouters, pukers… it was easy – people just thought they’d finally conked out.

Then I moved to public transport at rush hour. Teenagers sprawling across the aisle went first, then mobile phone yappers, music lovers, people with too much baggage… even screaming babies…

But individuals were no longer enough for me. I started leaving bombs on the buses, derailing trains, torpedoing planes.

Yes, it was me. How did I get away with it?

I am white.

I am male.

And I am filthy rich.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s