My Tuesday Evening

      I found it amusing, hearing his screams of pain and terror as I slowly and meticulously removed the last of his fingernails with my trusty set of pliers.  He sobbed to himself, blubbering about how sorry he was for some unfulfilled promise.  I wasn’t listening.  I quietly removed the lemon juice from the shelf and gingerly poured it over the man’s fresh wounds.  He hissed, but bore the pain well.  Too well.  I upped the ante. 
         I removed a long, metal object I had once fashioned from a rusty pair of scissors.  It's sharp, serrated edge glistens with a blood red hue and is precise in my surgical hands.  I showed the instrument to my companion and explained my purpose.  He began to beg for mercy, telling me about his family, etc.  I sharpened the blade.  He offered me money.  I aimed the device at his neck.  He threatened me.  I drove the blade home.  He shuddered, his body trembling with shock as I slowly pierced his carotid artery.  It popped like a swollen balloon, gushing the fluids of life down his body.  I saw his eyes grow dark.  I stared at him, my fulfillment sapping.  Longing for another.

WC:200