Gwen couldn't fully open her front door when she let me in because of the inert figure in the yellow rain slicker on her floor. I squeezed in through the available space and looked at the body.
"Is he dead?" I ask.
"I think so," she says. "He stopped wheezing a little while ago."
I walk around the body, trying not to touch it. His left sleeve is rolled up, exposing a large bloody spot on his forearm.
"That couldn't have killed him," I say, nodding to the wound.
"No," she says. "I didn't stab him, Mike, I hit him with the broom handle."
"And it killed him?" I ask. "That's some broom."
"I'm pretty sure he suffocated," she says. "I think I hit him in the gills."
I pause, looking at her, and then close my eyes and groan.
"Look at him!" she shouts, pointing. "Look at his lips!"
I open my eyes and look. They were puffy, maybe larger than normal, and a little blue. Probably like the lips of someone who had suffocated.
I stare at the ground. "He's not a fish-man, Gwen," I say. "He's not."
"He is!" she yells. "I knew you wouldn't believe me! I knew it!"
She runs out of the room and into the kitchen, slamming the door on her way.
"Look, Gwen!" I call. "It doesn't matter what he is! We need to..."
There is a loud clang, and I'm pretty sure she's thrown a saucepan at the door.
I look back at the body, trying to figure out how I'm going to dispose of what looks like a 200 pound corpse, when the odor I'd thought was the residue of Gwen's dinner suddenly intensified. I turn to see Gwen standing in front of the kitchen door with plate of ham and a fork.
"I knew you'd do this," she says, walking toward me. "I knew it, so I took a piece."
"Gwen," I say. "What did you do?"
"Eat," she says, holding out the plate. I can see a few crispy hairs poking out from the surface of the meat. "Eat, and tell me it doesn't taste like fish."
"Is he dead?" I ask.
"I think so," she says. "He stopped wheezing a little while ago."
I walk around the body, trying not to touch it. His left sleeve is rolled up, exposing a large bloody spot on his forearm.
"That couldn't have killed him," I say, nodding to the wound.
"No," she says. "I didn't stab him, Mike, I hit him with the broom handle."
"And it killed him?" I ask. "That's some broom."
"I'm pretty sure he suffocated," she says. "I think I hit him in the gills."
I pause, looking at her, and then close my eyes and groan.
"Look at him!" she shouts, pointing. "Look at his lips!"
I open my eyes and look. They were puffy, maybe larger than normal, and a little blue. Probably like the lips of someone who had suffocated.
I stare at the ground. "He's not a fish-man, Gwen," I say. "He's not."
"He is!" she yells. "I knew you wouldn't believe me! I knew it!"
She runs out of the room and into the kitchen, slamming the door on her way.
"Look, Gwen!" I call. "It doesn't matter what he is! We need to..."
There is a loud clang, and I'm pretty sure she's thrown a saucepan at the door.
I look back at the body, trying to figure out how I'm going to dispose of what looks like a 200 pound corpse, when the odor I'd thought was the residue of Gwen's dinner suddenly intensified. I turn to see Gwen standing in front of the kitchen door with plate of ham and a fork.
"I knew you'd do this," she says, walking toward me. "I knew it, so I took a piece."
"Gwen," I say. "What did you do?"
"Eat," she says, holding out the plate. I can see a few crispy hairs poking out from the surface of the meat. "Eat, and tell me it doesn't taste like fish."
I don't eat fish because I never liked the taste. I will now not eat fish out of fear.
Posted by: Enna Isilee | July 02, 2007 at 05:54 PM
That is awfully gross and hilarious at the same time.
Posted by: Katee | July 03, 2007 at 01:06 PM
Holy cow! that is VERY disturbing.
Posted by: Sylvia | July 06, 2007 at 11:21 PM