Short Story - PSYCHO
500 word prompt this time was obvious! But, I did my best to give it flavor~
PSYCHO
I see them, he thinks to himself. This couple will look perfect on my table.
Delicious thoughts of writhing skin fill Dex’s mind with red splatters, and he has to bite his lip. He tucks further into the bush, ensuring no one is nearby. He’ll never have another perfect opportunity like this. He’ll never –
“HEY!” the male yells, “CAN YOU TAKE OUR PICTURE?”
Dex’s eyes go wide as one of his targets grins at him, running up with his cell phone waving in his hand. Quickly tucking the chloroform-filled cloth into his back pocket, Dex reassures himself: this will help. This will get him closer. Surely, he’ll at least get the male.
Said male grabs him by the shoulders in a congenial too-close-for-comfort kind of way, squeezing him as he hands over his phone. Trying to keep his brain in check, Dex curves his lips like he’s supposed to and takes the phone in hand.
The male jogs back over to the girl and positions the sunset is behind them. They grin like idiots, and Dex can’t wait to pit them against each other. Let’s see how long love lasts when –
“You got this?” the man calls.
“Yeah. How ‘bout in one, two–”
And the man gets down on one goddamn knee. Dex is ramming the photo button, capturing the moment in still frames for no reason other than blind human obedience as the woman gushes. The yeses pour from her mouth when all Dex wants to hear are her weeping nos.
After a good amount of squeeing, the couple runs towards him. He holds the phone out and grasps for his back pocket but doesn’t have enough time before he’s pulled into a hug that knocks the breath out of him.
“Wait,” he tries, but is summarily ignored as they paw at him in stupid thanks. He finds himself tugged into a selfie photo in which he undoubtedly makes the most dull-witted face of his life, and with three unfortunate thumb strokes, the male proudly states that it’s been posted online.
Online…
Well, killing them is off the goddamned table.
Pissy, he yanks away, but the female is quick to soothe him. “Don’t worry. Chet is just like that.”
Of course, his name is Chet.
“He’s very influencer.”
Is that an adjective now?
“Don’t worry about it,” Dex says.
He’s pulled into a half hug again, from the female this time. “Don’t be silly! You just captured the best moment of our lives! We’re taking you out to dinner!”
Why, oh why does killing them have to be off the table!?
“You like Italian?” the male asks.
Dex opens his mouth but is cut off. “Good! Because I know a place!”
Yanked about-face, Dex is about to lose his shit when a cloth full of familiar chloroform wraps over his mouth, stuffing his brain full of cotton.
The male murmurs, “We got one, honey,” and a thrill of fear threads through Dex’s mind.
The tables have turned.
And Dex knows no more.
