1
Albert Shearsmith felt no regret killing the man…
The only regret he did have was that the man’s blood splashed all over his new shirt after he had slit the man’s throat.
But it was his own fault really.
He should have worn the disposable poncho like Kerry had told him to. It was one of the few times that he hadn’t listened to her. Usually he was faithful in his obedience to her.
Kerry was his everything and Albert hoped that after tonight, she would see him that way too.
Albert had killed this man for her, so he figured that she owed him something at least. Was a little love and affection too much to ask for?
And in his defense, the man’s house was stiflingly hot, so not the best place to wear a plastic poncho which would have clung uncomfortably to his sweaty sleeveless arms.
Albert reached into his pant’s pocket and pulled out the burner phone that Kerry had given him. His palms were sweaty and the phone took a nose dive into the pool of blood on the floor. From there the phone skidded under the stove.
“Damn it!” Albert cried.
He could have just left it behind.
It only had one number on it. But it was a number close to his heart, Kerry’s.
And if the police found the burner phone that could lead to some very awkward conversations.
Albert knelt down in the pool of blood that had spread across the linoleum floor of the kitchen.
He reached under the stove and could just touch the phone with his finger.
Albert laid on his belly so he could increase his reach. But, in trying to grab the burner phone he ended up pushing the damned thing further back under his stove.
“Shit!” Albert cried now.
In the corner of his eye he saw a broom next to the fridge. The broom had a long slender handle, so maybe he could push the phone close enough to grab it.
When he tried to extract his hand, Albert found that it was stuck.
He tried to yank it free, hoping the sudden motion would be enough to release him.
It wasn’t.
In a panic, he tried to yank his hand free again and again. The effort was grueling, Albert was not in the best of shape, and he began to sweat profusely.
Panting hard, he gave up and slumped further into the pool of blood.
He was not alone, the corpse of the man he had killed, watched with ghostly bemusement.
“Do you think this is funny?” Albert screamed at the dead man.
The corpse remained mockingly silent.
Hope returned, as Albert’s eyes drifted over to the broom again.
He reached for it now. His fingers lightly touch the broom handle. At his touch the broom tipped and the handle now struck him on the head.
“Son of a bitch,” Albert roared.
He rubbed his head, trying to soothe the pain, and unknowingly spread blood all over his bald head.
Now that the broom was within easy reach, Albert grabbed it and shoved the handle under the stove. It took some doing, but he was able to slide the burner phone out.
His hand, however, still remained trapped under the stove.
In his day to day life, if he was trying to solve a problem, he would have booked a mandatory meeting and let his staff come up with solutions. Thinking after all, should always be a group effort.
Alone, he would have to rely on his instincts, which were telling him now to chop off his hand.
Without thinking, he pushed up on the broom handle.
The wooden handle snapped.
Unknown to Albert, there was a metal drawer attached to the bottom of the stove. This drawer was well hidden, the color of it blended with the stove above. What he also did not know was that the drawer was filled with heavy pots and pans.
The simple snap of the broom handle was enough to knock the drawer off its track and now it’s full weight fell with a thud onto Albert’s hand, crushing it on impact.
“Jesus!” Albert screamed.
The Lord heard his screaming prayer, however, and released his hand.
Still stinging, Albert clutched his wounded hand, and clinched his teeth. It hurt like hell and he prayed no bones were broken.
Soon all his pain was forgotten when he saw the burner phone resting near his thigh.
“Finally,” Albert said quietly, “my luck is changing.”
He reached down and picked up the phone.
Albert frowned.
It was covered in blood and the casing was cracked.
When he flipped it open, he found to his delight that the screen lit up and Kerry’s number was highlighted.
Albert sighed.
After everything that had happened it would be nice to hear her voice. But she had specifically told him not to call until the job was done and he was safely at home…
Albert sighed again.
Without thinking, he called…
The burner phone rang and rang.
Albert frowned as his heart sank.
“She’s not going to answer,” he told himself. “The phone must be broken…”
As soon the words left his lips, the love of his life answered.
“It’s two in the morning,” Kerry’s voice said on the other end of the line. She sounded annoyed.
“Who is this?” She hissed.
“It’s me,” Albert answered.
“Who is me?” Kerry asked, still annoyed.
That gave Albert pause. She didn’t even know who he was.
“Who is it, honey?” Another voice on the phone said now. Judging by his deep voice, this person was definitely male.
“Some creep,” Kerry said now.
“A-Albert,” Albert stammered. “Shearsmith. From HR.”
“Oh,” Kerry said with a giggle. But even Albert could tell that her laughter sounded forced. “Let me go into another room, so we can talk privately.”
A muffled conversation between Kerry and the unknown man followed.
Albert did hear Kerry say, “Someone from work.”
Then finally, she was all his again.
“Okay,” Kerry said. “It’s safe to talk.”
“Who was that man?” Albert thundered.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
“Nobody, sweetheart,” she finally said. “You know I only have eyes for you.”
“Tell me,” Albert screamed.
“He’s just someone to keep me warm at night,” Kerry purred. “I was thinking of you the entire time we did it.”
Albert was started to think… but no, thinking for himself was a dangerous path to follow, better to do just what she said.
“I still love you, baby,” Kerry told him.
That pacified him, as the woman knew it would.
“Is he dead?” she asked now.
“Yes,” Albert said. “I’m just cleaning up.”
“I knew I could count on you,” Kerry purred now. “What would I do without you?”
“I want what you promised me,” Albert snarled.
“Now?” She asked, laughing nervously. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Albert hissed. “I want it now! Not on Monday when you say you forgot or you’re too tired. Now!”
“It’s so late,” she said, pretending to yawn.
“Well maybe if you hadn’t tried to sue someone for sexual harassment, only to find out the man was a homo, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Albert snapped. “And now I’m having to clean up your mess, so he doesn’t sue you into the ground or get you fired.”
Kerry sighed, disgusted.
“Fine,” she said. “Take off your pants and close your eyes.”
The corpse of the dead man lay next to Albert in the pool of blood. The dead man watched as Albert took off his pants.
“Is your dick out?” Kerry asked, completely disinterested.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Okay,” she said now, still completely disinterested. “Touch yourself while you think of me naked. Are you doing it?”
“Oh yeah,” Albert cried. His voice is breathy as he engages in this act of self love.
“I’m thinking of your tits.”
“Oh baby,” she said, with a yawn. “You’re so big.”
Albert cried out. His ejaculate splashing all over him and into the pool of blood underneath him.
The sinful act left him panting. It had been the best ten seconds in his 50 years of life.
“Don’t call me again,” Kerry hissed and hung up.
It had been the worst ten seconds of her 25 years of life.
Albert gasped, trying to catch his breath. Despite being tall and lean, he was out of shape.
He turned his head, only to be greeted by the dead man’s vacant eyes.
“Christ!” Albert cried and scrambled to his feet. He had been granted a small mercy, as the blood had started to congeal making the wooden floor less slippery.
And yet…
Albert’s pants and underwear were still around his ankles, which caused him to trip over his own feet. He fell face down onto the wooden floor, breaking his nose.
The corpse of the dead man was now treated to the sight of Albert’s exposed bare bottom.
Wearily, Albert got up. Blood flowed out of his nose like a river. His fingers now searched for something that would staunch the flow.
Using the sink to steady himself, Albert got to his feet. He grabbed at a roll of paper towels that hung on a wire rack just above the sink.
Albert pulled, wanting only one or two paper towels to staunch the flow of blood that still poured from his nose.
But the paper towels would not tear away and he ended up unspoolling almost the entire roll.
“Damn it!” Albert cried. “Am I cursed or something?”
He gave the paper towels one final tug.
The force he exerted caused the screws to give way and now the wire rack fell, hitting the faucet on the way down.
The impact caused the faucet to break and now water jetted up from the broken pipe.
“Oh come on!” Albert cried.
Defeated, Albert slumped down to the floor.
His eyes drifted to the dead man.
“Go ahead and laugh,” he said. “People have been laughing at me for most of my life.
Albert lowered his head and wept into his hands.
