Potted

I shot the sheriff
But I did not shoot the deputy

Music is blaring. I wake up and groan. I’d been dreaming about fucking Anna Kornikova. I wake up to the same old nightmare. Except different, because the dead chick’s an imaginative bitch. New Rule #1 – Don’t date women who paint. Arty-farty doesn’t just equal freaky in the sack, it also equals nasty genius revenge. I know what I like, and I don’t like bitch.

I shamble out of bed and don’t fall over. Nothing on the floor. No Linda in sight. Huh. She’s slipping, if Bob Marley’s all she can do to me. I get to the sound system and turn it way down so I can hear myself think. I hear a loud banging on the front door. Fuck. Some of the neighbours have finally gotten sick of the noise. Fine. I paste a shit-eating grin on my face, thread my way through the plant pots to the front door, and open it.

Cops.

Fuck.

They’re looking shocked, which scares me a little.

I look down. Fly’s unbuttoned, for a start. My dick’s waving hello in the breeze.

“God, sorry!” I say, putting him away and straightening myself up. “Rough night. Umm… can I help you?”

One of them tears his eyes away from the lounge room behind me.

“We’re responding to a noise pollution complaint, sir – may we come in?”

The other guy’s still looking shell-shocked, staring at my lounge room. I motion them in, and turn to look at whatever’s got the bastard enthralled.

IT WAS NO ACCIDENT

is written all over the walls Shining-style in red paint. Fuck.

At least the plants are hiding some of it.

Wait – plants in my lounge room?

A few dozen mature cannabis plants. In pots. Oh, FUCK.

****

The cops booked me, of course. Best thing to happen to them all month, I reckon, cos it’s generally the cops in disgrace who pull ‘noise pollution’ duty. So we went down to the station and I docilely gave my details to a fat balding cop who looked like he hadn’t stirred from behind his desk for a few years. But I stayed polite and obedient, even when Linda appeared behind the fat guy and stuck her tongue out at me. Even though I desperately wanted to be childish too and stick my tongue out at her. That’s about the only revenge I can get on the stupid bitch right now.

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7 Comments

  1. Thanks for the laughs, Naomi! This poor wretch is hilarious. Trent isn’t quite as funny in Vibes. I am beginning to want to know about Linda’s perspective. She wants to find her body. Does Mike even remember where he put her?

    Nice stuff.

    Cinda

  2. I read this one out to B. I had to after the massive guffaw that emanated from my mouth and echoed around the house.

  3. Cinda – I’m glad you enjoyed it 🙂 Linda’s perspective is coming… she has to learn to type with moderately insubstantial fingers. Apparently vengeance-stuff is easy because it’s fueled by rage…

    Sasch – LOL. Glad it amused 🙂 Did he enjoy it?

  4. Oh I love those lines about the plants.

    Justice. Sweet, blaring justice. 😀

    • It gave me a giggle to write it, too 😀

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  6. Just discovered your site via the web fiction guide and am really enjoying what I have found here.

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