The grave was already dug. They decided to kill me and reap the benefits of a dead father and loving, if somewhat strange husband. Bored of my constant babble and rhetoric they had already dug my grave, and on my own damned field no less. I'd already discovered the poison, seen the internet history for the various sites that had primed them for their deadly plot - and now I'd found the freshly dug hole that they would dump me in. I had at first thought it was a joke as they had often played cruel games and very often taken them too far, but I found so much evidence of the plot and absolutely no evidence of them wanting me to know. I looked long and hard at the hole in the ground, realising that not too many people get to piss on their own graves. So I pissed on it, watching as the line of golden yellow, lukewarm urine left my dick - the piss being pretty much the only thing truly visible under the moonlight, catching the soft rays of light the way it did - it seemed almost like a ray of light from heaven - typical that the only heavenly ray of light that I would ever see would be my own beer stained urine splashing over a badly dug grave. Oh and that Madonna crap - though the two seem relatively similar now that I think about it.
I finished up, noting that the grave was somewhat shallow for a hole intended to conceal a body for long enough for them to not get caught - but then I hadn't raised the brightest family. The lacklustre way in which the soil had been piled, much of it falling back in the hole, suggested they left the heavy work to my son Sam. What a stupid child he was and now a man hoping to make a 3rd share of a million in a plot to end his father's life. It occurred to me again that leaving me in a grave in the way they had clearly planned would leave the investigation open - I didn't have missing insurance - bloody imbeciles - perhaps I shouldn't have bothered canceling the life insurance policy - it looked like they would never get it anyway. I'm fairly certain that they will film the event too and send it in to MTV before editing their faces out with a soundtrack to my God awful daughters terrible rap music - don't get me wrong - I like a little hip hop but this new shit with bleeps in place of beats and synthesisers that sounds like a robot pissed them out on his own grave, along with ethnic belly dancers creating what appears to be an oversized orgy for the music video just gets to me. On second thoughts at least the video might almost be original. Or at least real which is more than most ask for these days.
I returned home to a full house of repressed passion - I saw the TV on through the window and saw my wife sat in full evening attire - no doubt waiting to enact her alibi as the children took their places in bedrooms they should have left years ago. I almost got in the car and drove to the police station but I'd already sent them everything that they would need as to know what happened to me - second class post - so the family had a nice couple of days of lying and digging their own graves a little deeper before they came 'a knocking.
She looked through the window no doubt realising I was there and beckoned me with a shaky finger to come inside. The moon was shining on the window pane and I saw the residents of the house across the street as they looked out of the moon itself - they closed the curtains - for me this would be the moon's final act. I went inside.
The house was slightly cold - they'd turned off the heating - I guess they didn't want me to smell. I walked past the living room and heard a news reader talk about a grim winter looming for the residents of Greater London, and found my way to the kitchen at the back of the house, which, luck would have it, has a wonderful view of what I'm sure will be my final resting place. My field and my grave - a field I might add that we bought for my children's horses. The horses weren't even there anymore - we'd reported their theft but I was certain Tracy had sold them to replace the computer that created her music for her. Mandra my wife had been angry that I had even suggested our lovely daughter would do such a thing - neither of us could explain the new computer - but as with everything else in this life - logic leads to misery.
I took a bottle of wine from the rack - a 92’ Chatenuef that we'd been saving for our 20th anniversary in 2002 and then decided to wait for 2022 instead as we spent the weekend away. Mandra came in and told me she thought we were saving the bottle. I said we were but I'd like to have it now to which she simply replied "no matter".
The effort to cover up the crude plot was thinning and I was growing tired of living on the verge of death so I simply demanded that she get it over and fucking done with.
She looked shocked with a “What me!?” expression on her beautiful oh so pissing innocent face.
"Yes you - I know you're trying to kill me. Don't play dumb - I have all the evidence - the emails - idiot - the websites with all kinds of methods and the 'How To Kill For The Money PDF'?! Not to mention the fucking grave that the idiot dug."
Her face looked shocked at first and then turned to anger.
"I knew this would happen. I told them. You're always so fucking suspicious its impossible to get away with anything."
"Well I'm sorry that I stumbled into my murder plot!" I shouted.
"Always thinking that every action means something - every word must mean something - every sentence tells you something..." she went on.
"That is unfortunately what the language is for darling - and anyway - I'm not stopping you, just fucking get it over and bloody done with."
At this point the kids were downstairs teetering on the edge of the kitchen looking a mix of sinister and inquisitive.
"We can't kill him now" she hissed at them.
At that moment my darling little daughter jumped to attention with bright red cheeks and said "We fucking well can Mother - he's right there saying do it - drop the poison in his wine and he'll probably drink it - wint't you?!" She beckoned the last part at me and I gave a nod, after all what's the point of living with such a family?
"I wanted to tell his corpse that he never saw it coming - that this thing he couldn't know. Hah - I wanted to say - idiot - dead idiot. I wanted to sit on his grave and piss on it.." Tears began to well up in Mandra's eyes as she gave her heart felt speech..
"Well I just pissed on it so I beat you to it" I chimed in.
"You pissed on your own f'ing grave, Dad? Fuck yeah - can't wait to tell everyone." Said smart Sam.
I couldn't help but give a slight smirk - they are even more dysfunctional than a thousand and one of me all vying to make sense of the other thousand.
"No we can't do it now - it's wrong to kill your own family when they know you're going to do it" Mandra's logic killed me as always but I just drank on.
"You can't just decide that mum - we at least have to talk about it - he knows - what if he tells the police? What if he's told anyone? What if he does? We could all go to prison." Said my daughter Lucy.
"Yeah mum I don't want to go to juvey" interrupted Sam.
"You're 22 you'll go to prison you idiot" I said between sips of what had turned out to be a pretty disappointing Chateauneuf.
The family all looked at me, daughter with crossed arms and full lips, son with far too much acne to see his bitter red haired expression and my wife, in full evening wear, jewellery strapped around her various limbs, hands on hips, bust pushed up to an inch below her dart like chin.
"Don't you have somewhere important to go?" I asked.
"If you must know I'm meeting my alibi. I've also been having an affair with him and he's in on this too."
"You intend to use your affair as your alibi? And you'll admit to this?"
"Of course. They wouldn't ever think that was a lie - think about it."
"And just to be clear - you are doing this for the life insurance money, right?" I asked in a moment of true inquisitiveness.
"Why? What else do you have?!" They said in unison.
I shook my head and continued to drink watching as they carefully removed my keys from the table in front of me and proceeded to go about their business - my wife making a blatant call to her alibi and continuing her philosophical discussion about the complexities of murder when they're on to you, my daughter glued to her mobile phone and my son taking bottles of beer from the fridge and watching TV in the other room while occasionally shouting aloud ideas such as:
"What about if we kill him while he sleeps? Then he won't know we're killing him!"
"We should just bury him we don't need to kill the old bastard - then it's natural causes."
I listened and watched for another 10 minutes or so until I needed to piss, this time I headed for the bathroom, and pissed in each of my wife’s and daughter's shampoos and various toiletry bottles, though I was dismayed to find none belonging to my son and so opted to piss in my own - the little bastard. The smell of eucalyptus, wine and urine filled the air - oh what it is to live. When I left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen my three deaths sat at the kitchen table waiting to impart what is undoubtedly a grandiose revelation unto me.
"Richard, we need to talk about this. Please sit down,” My wife patted the seat next to her but I sat instead on the kitchen counter emulating my rebellions past - though apparently whoever made these things no longer paid any attention to the details of comfort.
"I think that you are a very unhappy man, Richard. You poke around with your little books, sleep at strange times and are clearly unhappy with your family. We have two young children who have so much of their lives to live and by being so suspicious you could have deprived them of a life lived in comfort."
"I see - and they couldn't get jobs or something to try and supply the life that they so badly want?"
"Don't be so selfish, Dad. I'm an artist - and I have more than 500 fans on Twitter now!" Cried my daughter.
"Yeah and I have ADD so I need the money." Said smart Sam.
"We have tried to be a good family, even buying a poison that will make you fall to sleep before any pain occurs. I've done everything for you."
"You cheated on me. I only stayed with you for the kids and because.. well I love you. Or loved you Im not certain yet whether I can love my would-be assassin."
"Oh Richard - how could I not cheat on you? You used to be so exciting. Always inquisitive, sensitive, caring and experimental in the bedroom ...but now you just ask questions, you're emotional and need to be around me knowing everything - always wondering what I've been doing...and you know.. Asking me to do stranger and stranger things - enjoying riskier things in the bedroom"
"Ah I see....you're saying I've changed?"
"Exactly and we don't want you anymore but you've really damaged our plans. I mean - how could I kill you, or ask my children to kill you when you know exactly that we will?"
"What does it matter?" I sighed into my wine.
"Because it's not right. I wanted it to be smooth without the thoughts of you feeling, albeit wrongly, that you'd been betrayed. Sleeping like a child and slowly fading as we cover you with dirt and piss on you. But even that you've managed to that take away from us. You pissed on your own grave, Richard! What kind of a man does that?"
Sam let out a chuckle and as he did my daughter seemed to answer the question in one series of actions. She poured a glass of wine and put a small medicine bottle of what I can only assume is poison next to it.
"Suicide." she said.
"Oh my," Gasped my lovely wife "suicide suits you Richard. Everyone would expect it - you have a fascination with things like that. Always reading those little horror books, constantly writing poetry and reading about real life tragedies - they'd expect it from you. You're a perfect fit for suicide."
"And that's what you want is it?"
"Yes!" The three said again in perfect unison.
"Okay." I said.
"It's getting late kids - it's already past 11- why don't you go to bed and I'll let you know when everything's ready" said Mandra watching as they left and ascended without problems - just like they were 7 again.
"Leaving just me and you." she pointed at me and nudged the wine closer. As I jumped down onto the chair beside her.
"What is that stuff?"
"It's something that will take you away... Just like I'm sure you always wanted." And with that she leaned forward and kissed me hard and passionate in a way that I hadn't felt for a long time.
"Add one drop from the vial and drink the fucking wine," she demanded as she went to her knees before me "don't worry I'll say goodbye just the way you like it."
I picked up the glass and added the droplet of liquid and drank the whole lot in one gulp. She looked at me with a look of complete shock on her face. "I didn't think you..." She started before proceeding to unzip my trousers.
A few minutes later and she was still there, though my head started to become dizzy, a little bit of nauseousness passed through my body, and the light began to shimmer. The sensation below my waist became something closer to pins and needles and then there was nothing.
My eyes felt groggy and sunlight hurt them as though I’d been asleep for days. The words "I think he's coming around" swirled around my head in a series of dizzying echoes.
I slowly began opening my eyes to what seemed to be my bedroom. I moved, my body ached and it felt like my back was bruised and cut, my wrists were weak as though they'd been tied but stopped when their voices filled my ears which were clearly sore from whatever they'd drugged me with.
"Happy birthday!" they exclaimed as I woke up to a room full of wine, chocolate and those three.
It was an elaborate, swiftly and rather wonderfully executed joke. We all talked, ate and drank, they reminding me that it was what I liked, espionage and suicide, interesting stories of love, lust and foul play, and that it was my own slice of adventure in an otherwise boring life... But I didn't smile with them... Not until Tuesday when I overdosed on whatever had put me to sleep, and the police came knocking to take away my beautiful family and their freshly washed hair.
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