Thursday, January 25, 2007
New Beginning 199
Call me Mandy. No really, I insist. Amanda is cute but it’s too proper. Mandy? Now that’s young, hot, fresh. Plus, it makes things easier on guests when my great aunt Amelia comes around.
How often do great aunts come around, you might wonder. Quite often in these parts, actually. Of course, mine has been lolling around in the garden, hoping to stumble into another mystery, but even my neighbors have had theirs stop by to check on them. I think most people like to keep an eye on family, especially when said family’s town has recently suffered through the strangest set of events this side of Armageddon.
To be honest, I wished my aunt had stopped by sooner. Instead, when things started that Saturday morning, I was by myself. My husband was around, I suppose, but, let’s just say, he wasn’t all there.
No, when I awoke, there was just the smell of copper. I rolled on my side to see what it was, but something cold and wet lapped at my thigh. I didn’t quite make it out of the sheets and ended up rolling away, falling to a crumpled pile at the side of the bed. Swearing, I rose. And went silent.
A large red stain had turned our sheets into a passable Japanese flag.
Of course, it’s not like this was totally unexpected. My husband was always very impressionable. His muffled groans led me to the bathroom where his botched attempt at seppuku had left him sterile but stoic. He bowed his head and apologized profusely, while trying to stanch the flow.
I put on my dressing-gown and padded barefoot downstairs, following the trail of blood. Near the front door I found the newspaper, folded into artful representations of a crane in flight, a black bear and a ’93 Toyota Corolla. With trepidation, I passed through to the kitchen. The inhabitants of my tropical aquarium, as I'd feared, had been sushi’d to death.
With a sigh, I went over to the TV, took the rental DVD out of the player, and cursed the subliminal messages in Letters from Iwo Jima.
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: Kobayashi