The S Project: I, the Killer. Earlier this month, I stated that I couldn’t even fictionalize myself as a killer.  Something happened today to change my mind.

“Have you heard of that new reality show, America’s Most Smartest Model?” she asked.

I twitched. Well, to be more accurate, my left eye twitched.   “Yes, I have heard of it,” I replied, “and there’s a reason I don’t watch it.”

The incomparable Izzybella giggled.  “Every time I hear the name of that show, I think of you.”

Jehara laughed. “The models on that show do sound really dumb. ‘Yes,’” she said, mimicking one, “‘as America’s most smartest model, I would say’ blah blah blah.” She and the incomparable Izzybella laughed together.

My left eye twitched some more.

The incomparable Izzybella, always one to beat a dead horse long after it, lucky beast, has stopped twitching, said, “Today Carol said something was quite unique. It made me think of you, too, and I giggled.”

I saw red. I dropped my bag. I ran across the room and ran at her with full force.  “YOU! MUST! NOT! MODIFY! AN! ABSOLUTE!” I shrieked over and over.  “YOU! MUST! NOT! MODIFY! AN! ABSOLUTE!”

I became aware of Jehara screaming at the top of her lungs. My hands were clasped convulsively around the incomparable Izzybella’s neck, and her face was purple.

“What have I done?” I sobbed.

The incomparable Izzybella fell to the floor.

Jehara stood over her corpse and shook her head sadly. “She was the most unique person I ever met.”

I slowly turned around. “YOU! MUST! NOT! MODIFY! AN! ABSOLUTE!”

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