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Chapter 40

Why did he die why did she also die why did they die? What is the meaning of death why are we all dying? Where did we go wrong when we never ever do anything wrong. Robbing the world in order to do what one wants? Are you joking join us you can have fun. I do not get along with fun.

"Beastly bores." Mother would whisper underneath her breath. But she was smiling the whole time.

She was getting older as well we all were there was this tiring thing about her as if she was pulling me down with her to death. I did not want to die not with her.

Fetch me that fetch me this there is no end for her demands. I know we agreed but this is ridiculous I was a young girl back than now she almost looks the same as I do.

I must go out and when she did she discovered she lost her keys her freedom past anything her purse her key inside her purse and she would cry.

The taxi drivers would not respect her. She would quarrel with the fare it is a standard fare lady. I would intervene before she was kicked out. Me too because there seemed to be something directed at me as well. I never argue with the cab fare. When she waiting for a bus the bus takes too long.

Yet she would wait for over an hour for the free taxi. I am not stupid she clinging onto something her husband dead and gone now she thinks she is not right in the head someone something had upset her. What had happened did not know the children as far as I could tell were okay. It is always the lies which take over then become so ingrained when they come out that person becomes who? Well she was a good mother except she was never our mother.

Why are you being beastly?

What I am not slightly autistic? I am not complaining for being difficult or different.

Why is it that you are also wrong too?

"I have always been in the wrong never had a right answer to any question."

"Are we talking about school?"

"What else."

My mum is dead and so is my dad we are all broken hearted."

"So you should be."

"But when my real mother died I did not even notice."

"Which mother."

"The one who died when she older than eighty."

"What she die of ?"


"Caused by delicious chocolates sent by her family,"

"So what?"

"Both legs amputated."

"Then your step mother?"

My auntie who is still alive and well. She cried so much I could not tell if it was her at the funeral but the thing was she is so besotted with her acts she was laughing behind her handkerchief because dad was fond of her his Zeks.

"Oh she poisons people. That is why daddy left home he does not have the time to cook. My step mother is not mean or nasty she just hates us all. She does not mean to when she tried to poison her step dad we thought she was just a passing through that phase but not anymore she tried to poison her own children not recently. It was twenty years ago. The children were in there having their stomachs pumped and oxygen and all that made me fear something even back than."

"What is wrong with you?"

"I am trying to share a story."

"Well get on the linear. A story moves ahead not goes forwards and backwards like a bad movie."

"I am a bad author. Who studied her subjects which are people."

"You lot have not. Having only studied genres and stuff you all lost out."

Back to the story?

As the police were getting involved they had to close some places down. There were many arrests which kept the officers busy with paper work. These are the discards which they melt into the pot when they have done with them. That is nice to know well I am sharing this out with you all.

Dad started this bustling murder business.

"Your dad is dead?"

"No he isn't."

"like some crazed thought. He does what it is known as lodger murders. You know lodges in a house the man dies because of food. He is always arguing about food it is not the ideal situation because food should be pleasant and all that."

Sheer blank expression on her face makes me stammer. I thought she knew all that?

I am very sad about her not knowing all that I have been screaming about and talking when I try to step outside of being a victim and want to become the aggressor like her. A stealer of ideas and somehow her.

There seems nothing there but a blank wall and there does not matter what I am speaking and why I am saying the worst things about humans and my family and she does nothing but lick her own pussy.

The thing I did not know she knew I got cross,. Her chain round her neck protects her. I smile so there it is like one imprisoned captive in this cage.

"I told you about that when she and the children had a poison scare?"

No I don't remember look on her face and I satisfied went towards it with wit and vigour.

"Her children bring their own food to the house. She hates housework."


"Older now and she has children past sixty."

"But you sound so young?"

"I was."

"An intellectual wife."


"She likes to read and turn her husband on."

"When he is not there?"

"She has females round for tea and cakes when they die she has nothing but praise for them."

"As the saying goes without prejudice she bumps them off."


"Have another cake."

"I won't. Health issue."

"Go on?"

"Okay just one more."

"Who is she?"

"My good friend the apple of my eye."

"Who is she?"

"Darling auntie."

"Who is married to uncle senior."

"What is she?"

"So filthy rich now."

"You know married to his daughter."

"The heiress?"

"Well yes. "

"Were they delighted at the coup?"

"Of course."

"I had no idea naturally but so I am too expect all the pitter and patter of little feet will dance nicely."

"What is your poison?"

"Well I love a good story."

"My God take a couple of thieves and education and you can rule

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