She set the empty bottle of glue on fire, and hurled the flaming glob at the portrait
of some family member long gone, making it fall to the floor a burning mess. She walked back into the kitchen and
retrieved a sharp steak knife, with which she began scraping over the boy's legs, tickling herself with the sensation
of the blade going just under the skin. She grabbed a handful of other knives out of the drawer and ran back to
the boy's room, where she lay down and finished masturbating yet again. She was beginning to lose the sensitivity
by now, so she just pulled the boy's pants up, lamenting the passing orgasm. She didn't get them very often, so
she really appreciated it when she did.
Phylazim lay back on the floor and tossed a steak knife up so that it almost touched the ceiling, and burst into
maniacal laughter as it came back down, and plunged into his chest up to the hilt. "Wheeeeee!" she cried
as another knife plummeted down towards her, embedding itself in the boy's lung with a loud "SPLORCKTCH!"
She continued doing this, until the boy's chest looked like someone had been trying to play lawn darts on it, and
done quite well. She pulled all the bloody knives out and giggled at the tickling sensation as she gurgled through
the holes in his chest, laughing. She kept one and took it about the house with her, scraping and stabbing herself
casually so as to keep the laughs coming.
She decided to go back into the kitchen and blow up the sink. Yeah, putting the kitchen out of commission would
be a good finale, she decided. She poured cleaning chemicals down the drains of the double sink, carefully noting
how many parts of each were needed for a good hefty explosion. Wonder how those morons at the local TV station
will explain this, she wondered. Just a little more bleach --
The back door slammed. Someone had come home! "Jeremy," an older, femanine voice called out in a singsong
tone, "come help me unload the groceries, dear."
Agh, his mother, she thought. Drat. "Uhh...I can't right now mom," she stammered, "I'm uhh...cleaning
the sink!" Yeah, I'm cleanin' the sink, alright. Heheheh.
"Oh that's so nice of you!" the mother said, walking into the kitchen, "c'mere and give your mother
a hug!"
"NO!" she shouted, stopping Jeremy's mother in her tracks with sudden fierceness, "the uhh..fumes,
you shouldn't get too close."
"Oh alright dear," she said, the all too chipper tone back in her voice, "you just make sure you
don't get those chemicals on yourself."
Phyzalim looked over the shoulder of the boy she had posessed and smiled amiably, until Jeremy's mother went back
out to unload groceries. When she was out of view, he ran into the laundry room and grabbed the iron, setting it
in an impromptu trap above the back door just in time to watch Jeremy's mother hit the floor in a crumpled heap.
"Heheh," she giggled, "bitch went down!"
She drug the body indoors and crammed it in the dishwasher and put it on "pots and pans."
"Now, back to business," she muttered, about to toss the boy's lit Zippo down one of the drains, when
she heard a knock at the front door.
"How can I work with all these interruptions?!" she complained testily as she put the lighter back down.
She noticed a small skull and crossbones engraved on the back. Hmmm, that's funny, she thought, on her way to answer
the door.
Opening it, she was perplexed to see the punk from next door. "Duude!" he exclaimed as he prodded at
Jeremy's wounds with his finger, "wicked make-up!"
"So is your mom gone or what, dude?" the kid inquired, craning his head around to look inside the house
as Phylazim stood, pondering, "you gonna come over or just hang around here jerkin' off to the Shroud of Tourin?"
He chuckled at the last bit, and lightly punched Jeremy's shoulder.
"Oh," Phylazim muttered, realizing the truth, "why you guys need me?"
"Duude, don't be like that," he punk pleaded, "you know Razor and me only got the cheap stuff, you
always have the good shit, plus you know how to roll a joint way better than either of us. C'mon, we got some mint
schnopps that my sister left here after she left last week and the new Mental Chaos album. We're gonna get some
sluts and have us a party!"
Phylazin drew a heavy sigh as she looked down at the wounds she had inflicted on the boy's body. Damn, score one
for the pit fiend. Oh well, might as well go over and get wasted and laid before this body expires, she thought.
"Okay dude," she spoke in the correct dialect, "but you gotta come in and help me find my stash,
I misplaced it.."