M-U-R-K-H-A-M
Thanks to @TJfluffnsnuff for the cover art.
Act: Prince
“Hey you noticed that Miss Murkham has been kinda chirpy this week?”
“Oh? Hmm… now that you mentioned it, yeah kind of. Something good must have happened.”
“What’re you two talking about?”
“Oh just Miss Murkham. You noticed that she’s been quite cheerful lately?”
“Now that I think about it, when I invited her for lunch next week, she actually said yes, which is like, really rare… I should probably book a really nice place.”
“Hah, I know why she’s so happy.”
“Oh? Well out with it then.”
“Yeah spill the beans.”
“It’s love, girls. L to the O to the V to the E. Love.”
“What like her husband brought her somewhere nice?”
“Huh, she’s married? I thought she was single.”
“There is no way someone like her is single.”
“I don’t think she’s married, but she’s definitely dating someone.”
“Oh? Come on, don’t leave us hanging.”
“Yeah! Who? Who?”
“I saw her going into some fancy restaurant with some hot guy.”
“Hot guy?”
“Details! Details!”
“Well… um… tall, handsome, blonde hair, immaculate skin, fashionable… oh! And definitely rich! You should have seen his car, Lambo-Ferrero Rocher kinda model.”
“What are you three talking about?”
“Miss Murkham!”
“Um… uh…”
“Just cars and stuff… um…”
“Oh Miss Murkham, for lunch next week, is there any type of food you fancy?”
“Huh?… Hmmm… I’ve been craving fish for a while.”
“I know just the place!”
Miss Murkham stared at her phone quietly.
She was staring at this text from her beloved.
Kali, stop calling me. I can’t see you anymore. Gwynneth and I are getting married. I forgot to tell you last time. Sorry
She didn’t understand. What did he mean by this? Didn’t they just go on a date a week ago? And now he was suddenly engaged… to the Slut no less. He never mentioned any of this during their date. Not when he picked her up. Not while they were eating. Not when they went to the love hotel. Not when he dropped her off. Not even once…
So, why was this happening?
She tried to call him, but she only got one ring followed by the answering tone. She tried to call a second time. A third time. A fourth time. A fifth time. A sixt…
“Wa… wat wong Mu… mummah?”
Miss Murkham stared at the Fluffy on the table.
Beige fur
Blonde mane & tail
Tiny wings
Stumps in lieu of legs
A puffy white diaper
Her pillowed Fluffy, Prince.
“What’s wrong? What’s WRONG? WHAT’S FUCKING WRONG!?”
Prince whimpered in a low, irritating manner, which only served to fuel Miss Murkham’s rage and she slapped her palm angrily on the table, making a loud resounding
SMACK
Prince jumped slightly.
“SOWWI MUMMAH!? HUUUUUUU NU… Nu mean tu mak Mummah angwy huu huu huuuu.”
Miss Murkham softened slightly and stroked Prince’s mane gently, her Fluffy easing at her kind touch.
“It’s okay baby… Mommy forgives you.”
Prince’s whimpers turned to soft coo-ings, and Miss Murkham continued to gently stroke his mane.
“Mommy loves you,” Miss Murkham stated warmly.
“Pwince wub Mummah! Wub! Wub!”
Miss Murkham had noticed Prince closing his eyes, no doubt focusing on the sensation. He always did enjoy her touch. Her love… So why? Why?! WHY WAS HE MARRYING THAT SLUT!?
A rush of seething rage.
Miss Murkham’s grip on Prince’s mane tightened.
“Huwties! Huwties! Mummah! Staph”
Miss Murkham lifted Prince by the mane.
“BAD UPSIES! BAD UPSIES!”
“IF YOU LOVE ME SO MUCH THEN WHY ARE YOU MARRYING THAT SLUT!?”
“PWINCE DUN UNDEWSTAN! HUWTIES! HUWTIES! PWINCE SOWWI! SOWWI!”
Miss Murkham sneered and smashed Prince onto the table, his body slamming upon the surface with a loud thud as he let out an ear-splitting shriek. This only served to enrage Miss Murkham further, who stormed into the safe room and practically ripped open a cabinet drawer.
Reaching inside, she pulled out a rather nasty looking sorry stick, with numerous sharp bumps sticking out, and stormed back into the living room. Prince immediately noticed the tool in her hand and began to panic.
“PWINCE SOWWI! PWINCE SOWWI! NU HUWTIES!!!”
Prince tried to run away, but he was quickly reminded that he only had stumps for legs and he could only scream in terror as Miss Murkham turned him on his back.
“NU HUWTIES MUMMAH! PWINCE WUB YU! PWINCE WUB YU!”
Miss Murkham sneered. Such obvious emotional blackmail. The two timing manipulative manwhore always knew the right words, but not this time.
“LAIR!” Miss Murkham screamed.
Before Prince could get another word in, Miss Murkham lashed the Fluffy’s soft underbelly harshly with the stick, tearing the fur and skin, and leaving a crimson red cut.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Miss Murkham responded with two more lashes to the same spot as Prince writhed desperately. Then she began lashing his balls.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Prince spasmed violently, wriggling with such intense motion as tears overflowed from his eyes. Yet Miss Murkham showed no mercy, lashing his entire body and especially his reproductive organs with vengeful ferocity.
“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET! THAT’S WHAT YOU GET!”
She continued lashing Prince over and over, and it took her five minutes until she had realized that Prince was no longer screaming. The Fluffy’s eyes were rolled to the back of his head and his tongue was sticking out. For a second she thought that Prince had died from trauma, but the subtle movement of his chest revealed that he was still alive. She released her grip and spat on his face, then she walked over to her Hasbio medkit and injected a Platinum Seal Fix-it-up Fluffy serum.
“FUCK!” Miss Murkham screamed.
She still couldn’t comprehend it. There had to be a mistake. A typo? Maybe this was some off-color prank? What day was it? June 5th. So it wasn’t an April Fool’s joke, but was there another prank-themed day? June had what? Summer break was in June, but aside from that there were no special days she could think of. Maybe it wasn’t an international day, maybe a country specific? No, that couldn’t be right, but then what? Maybe it was a technical error? Maybe he meant to send the message long ago, but there was a connection error and it never sent, then they broke up and that’s why he wanted to meet for dinner and sex. Yes that had to be it! It was a connection error. The message must have been from months ago and it just never was sent until today. That had to be it, right? RIGHT?
God would you just shut up?
“What!? Who said that!?”
Miss Murkham looked around in confusion. Someone had spoken, but she was alone in the house.
You know very well that he wasn’t looking for a relationship again, he just wanted you for the sex.
“WHAT?! N… No!”
Yeah, let’s ignore all the obvious signs.
“Huh?! There… THERE WERE NO SIGNS.”
Don’t play dumb. The signs were all as clear as day. He didn’t want to share anything about his life, nor know anything about yours, all he wanted to do was talk about those stupid investments schemes of his.
“I… I already know all about his life, he doesn’t need to ask about mine, he should alr-”
Oh please. He doesn’t even realize you’re the head accountant. He still thinks you’re a secretary for a firm you left three years ago. He doesn’t care about you.
“HE DOES! He… He just has other priorities.”
Yeah, like a one night stand before he proposes to the Slut.
“Shut up…”
I mean, what else did you expect? Even when you two were dating, the Slut was always in his mind. ALWAYS!
“Shut up! Shut up!”
Face it, she was always the center of his eye. You were just a blight lurking in the shadow.
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”
WE MEAN NOTHING TO HIM!
“SHUT…. UUUUUPPPPPPPPP!!!”
CRASH
Miss Murkham had thrown her phone at a mirror, causing the glass to shatter and fall.
Then there was silence.
Miss Murkham looked around in confusion. No one was around. It was just her. Her and her unconscious pillowed Fluffy.
She looked at Prince, staring at the cuts that split his pastel colored fur and delicate flesh. Such a vibrant and passionate red. There was something beautiful about it. So alluring. So…
She sighed and brushed away such thoughts.
“Let’s get you patched up, Prince.”
Act: Paladin
“Did something happen to Miss Murkham?”
“You noticed it too?”
“Yeah. She feels kinda distant now, like more distant than before.”
“Something bad must’ve happened.”
“Hey, what are you girls talking about?”
“Miss Murkham… She feels kinda down, you noticed?”
“Noticed, I know fully well what happened.”
“Oh? Go on.”
“Yes, tell. Tell.”
“I saw her using her phone a couple of times. Seems she’s trying to call the same guy over and over again.”
“Who was she calling?”
“Wait, was it the handsome guy who brought her out on a date?”
“I think so… and I think he ghosted her.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
“Like avoiding calls or blocked, maybe they had a fight.”
“Maybe he’s a playboy? Bastard!”
“Did you think she got scammed? Poor Miss Murkham.”
“Maybe it was something Miss Murkham did.”
“HUH!?”
“WHAT!?”
A table in her basement. Two guests atop.
A Unicorn young mare. Roughly 7 months old. Pink fur. Black mane and tail. The familiar colors of the Slut’s cheerleader uniform.
A Unicorn foal. Roughly 4 months old. Dark blue fur. White mane and tail. A blood sibling, as per the shelter staff.
Paladin and her little brother.
“Nu… nu gib huwties tu wittle bwuddah nu mowe… pwease nyu mummah,” Paladin said nervously.
Miss Murkham continued observing the two silently. Paladin, though terrified, was standing protectively in front of her younger sibling, trembling yet standing firm. Meanwhile, Wittle Bwuddah was curled up, whimpering and shaking violently.
“P… pwease… nu… nu gib wittle bwuddah huwties
“Huuu huuu Nu wike huwties huuuu babbeh am onwy huuu huuu onwy fo huggies n wub.”
Miss Murkham scoffed softly. She had only flicked Little Brother a couple of times on the nose. They were acting like she was going to brutally torture them.
They’re so right
A small, sinister smile crept up her face and before Paladin could even react, Miss Murkham smacked the pig pony right on the cheek, sending Paladin crashing onto the table, with a squeak.
“NU HUW- BAD UPPIES!”
Miss Murkham lifted Paladin by the mane and dropped her in a plastic box, leaving the pig pony momentarily confused as she tapped the transparent sides.
“W… wut? Nu… Nu see waww?”
Paladin continued tapping the sides, looking around in confusion, but then it seemed to hit her.
“Wai… sowwi boxie? Pawadin am in sowwi boxie!?”
Miss Murkham grinned evilly, her smile brimming with malicious intent, one that Paladin was quick to recognize.
“Nu gib wittle bwuddah huwties nu mowe!”
Miss Murkham began to chuckle ominously, as Paladin began tapping the sides of the plastic box in an increasingly desperate manner.
“Nu gib wittle bwuddah huwties! Nu gib huwties!”
Miss Murkham chuckled again and turned her attention to Little Brother, the foal’s survival instinct had kicked in and it was starting to crawl away.
“Nu huwties peep peep… Am onwy wittle babbeh cheep cheep Nu… nu huwties… onwy huggies n wub huu huuu.”
Miss Murkham chuckled and slowly moved her hand to Little Brother’s side, causing Paladin to panic as she continued tapping against the walls of the plastic box.
“Nu gib wittle bwuddah huwties! Wittle bwuddah am gud Fwuffy! Gud Fwuffy!”
Little Brother attempted to run, but in typical fashion of its kind, fear would quickly take root in the heart of this careless creature, causing the foal to falter and trip on his hooves. He landed face first on the table and tumbling a few inches forward.
“Wittle Bwuddah!! Am… am wittle bwuddah otay!?”
“Huuuuuu smeww pwace hab huwties Huuu huuuu”
Little Brother turned towards Miss Murkham with a pitiful look. Tearful eyes while he held his nose with his adorable little hooves.
“Huuuuu Nu… nu huwties pwease… huu huuu Fwuffy am gud babbeh. Onwy fo huggies n wub.”
Miss Murkham smiled. A warm gentle smile yet behind the kind smile, laid cruel twisted intent, revealed as she slowly pulled out her favorite knife. Little brother looked at the knife with confusion, clearly unable to recognize the foreign object, but Paladin seemed to know fully well what it was.
“Nu gib wittle bwuddah pointy huwties!” Paladin suddenly screamed.
The pig pony had started banging on the plastic box again and Little Brother had begun to cry, making no attempt to run as he sat in a puddle of his own waste.
thud thud thud
The soft thud of weak hooves against the sturdy container. A sign of growing panic.
“Nu gib wittle bwuudah huwties! Gib Pawadin! Gib Pawadin! Wittle bwuddah wun!”
Miss Murkham looked at Little Brother. The little creature was sobbing softly at he sat on his rump atop a puddle of his own waste, suckling his hoof for comfort and making no attempt to flee.
A dark chuckle escaped Miss Murkham’s lips as she pinned Little Brother down with a single finger.
“Nu huwties! Nu huwties! Nu huwties!” Paladin pleaded
thudthudthud
Such an intoxicating pleasure. The sound of increasing desperation. The futility. The helplessness. It almost made her wet. She placed the knife on one of Little Brother’s legs, pinning it down as she pressed the blade down on the fragile flesh near the hoof.
Cheepcheepcheepcheep
“WITTLE BWUDDAH AM GUD FWUFFY! GUD FWUFFY AM ONWY FO HUGGIES N WUB!”
Thud Thud Thud
A symphony of anguish and despair. It filled Miss Murkham with sick, twisted delight. It was time to carve the meat.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
“NU HUWTIES!”
THUD THUD THUD
Paladin was giving her all now, charging at the plastic wall with greater force that the container began to rattle. Yet it did nothing except motivate Miss Murkham to operate with greater cruelty, with the woman cutting Little Brother’s leg in a sadistically slow manner.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
THUD THUD THUD
First the skin. It broke so easily under the blade and blood would begin to seep.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
THUD THUD THUD
The flesh followed. So fragile and soft. Like pudding, it parted so easily against the knife, as blood began to flow in greater amounts.
*EEEEEEEEE-HACK HACK
THUD THUD THUD
The muscle was tougher. She actually had to put more force as she cleaved it apart, but like the rest it split.
THUD THUD THUD
The bone was the hardest but not by that much. It quickly cracked and crumbled under the steel blade, shattering into dust.
THUD THUD TH-BAM
A different sound. Miss Murkham looked at the container curiously and was confused to see the pig pony motionless, laid on her side within the box.
“Paladin?”
Blood, seeping from a wound on Paladin’s head. Closer inspection would reveal that the horn had impaled her skull and no doubt stabbed the brain.
“No fucking way.”
The pathetic pig pony had lobotomized herself in her panic and rendered herself braindead.
“So fucking stupid hahahaha”
Such amusement. A sick delight from the stupidity of this smug, self-serving sister. This small notion of superiority. Victory.
A feeling of contentment.
You can’t seriously be satisfied just from that, right?
“Huh?”
One upping a fucking Fluffy
Miss Murkham ignored the voice. The stupid voice that didn’t know anything.
“It’s more than just that.”
Yeah you got a Fluffy to kill itself big whoop. Doesn’t change a thing.
“Shut up.”
Doesn’t change that he’s still marrying the Slut
“Shut up!”
And doesn’t change that you’ve still been left behind
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”
Doesn’t change a fucking thing
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
Miss Murkham slammed the knife on the table. That stupid nasty voice. So irritating. Why couldn’t it let her be happy. Always pointing out these unnecessary facts. So fucking annoying. God why wouldn’t it just leave her alone. Why couldn’t it just…
“SHUT! THE! FUCK! UP!”
“Mmmm… nu wike…”
A soft raspy voice. Miss Murkham turned back to the table. It seemed Little Brother was still alive. He looked like he had just fainted and was having the worst hangover in his life.
She turned back to Paladin.
The phony pig pony was looking at her.
Eyes of judging. Eyes of contempt. Eyes that looked at her with pity so long ago.
This festering feelings of inadequacy. Incapability. Inferiority.
The dark, dreadful notion of defeat.
“STOP FUCKING LOOKING AT ME!”
Paladin did not. The pretentious, pervasive pig pony was still looking at her and Miss Murkham let out a low snarl.
“I SAID STOP FUCKING LOOKING AT ME!”
Miss Murkham quickly grabbed Little Brother and dangled the foal above Paladin, the foal was in a state of panic, flailing and squirming within her grasp.
“Pipipipipipipipipipipipipi”
“YOU WANT TO KEEP LOOKING? THIS IS WHAT FUCKING HAPPENS!”
Grabbing Little Brother tightly, she began to tear the foal apart.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
Limbs, ligaments and lumps of flesh rained down on Paladin, painting the provoking patronizing pig pony in a resplendent ravishing red, as a curtain of congeal crimson cascaded into the container. Broken bones, beautiful blood and a butchered body soon befell upon the box, yet still Paladin continued staring. Miss Murkham remained still, unable to tear her eyes away.
Those beautiful baby blue eyes.
Eyes that sparkled under the sunlight.
Eyes that held such strength.
Eyes that she always envied.
“God… I always wanted your eyes.”
Then take them
Miss Murkham sneered and placed a finger around Paladin’s eye socket, and she noticed Paladin’s hoof move slightly.
Tap
A single soft tap coming from Paladin’s bloody hooves. Miss Murkham stared at the pig pony curiously. It would seem that Paladin still had the ability to feel somewhat.
Tap Tap
A simple response as Miss Murkham dug her eye under the eyelid.
Tap Tap Tap
Nails digging deeper as the finger forced their way in.
TapTapTapTapTapTap
The feeling of a finger pushing somewhere it was not supposed to go. A sickening squelch and a feeling that made even Miss Murkham cringe, as blood began to trickle from the eye.
TapTapTapTapTa-
The eye came out and the tapping had stopped. A quick incision would break the eye free and with that Paladin had become still.
Miss Murkhan stared at it silently, the hazel brown eye staring back at her without judgement.
This feeling of peace.
She stared at Paladin’s corpse.
This feeling of triumph.
She listened to the silence.
This feeling of loneliness.
He was gone. That homewrecking Slut had ruined everything. She had been left behind. Alone. Miss Murkham looked at her bloody hand in silence. The peace was gone. So was the triumph. All that was left was a feeling.
This feeling of emptiness.
“I hate her… I hate her so fucking much.”
Act Picaro
“I’m worried about Miss Murkham.”
“She still hasn’t stopped calling the gigolo?”
“Not just that. She’s been saying some creepy stuff. Like I overheard saying how she wanted to cut someone up.”
“That’s disturbing.”
“Yeah… I’m worried.”
“What are you two talking about?”
“Miss Murkham.”
“She’s been acting weird… weirder than usual.”
“Rude.”
“Just saying it how it is.”
“You two aren’t alone… she’s kinda been creeping everyone out.”
“I’m worried about Miss Murkham.”
“I’m more worried about the guy.”
“Yeah… me too, kinda.”
“Huh!? Are you two serious?”
“Look, I’m starting to think that maybe… maybe Miss Murkham might’ve been the problem.”
“What!?”
“Yeah… I kinda think the same.”
“Huh!? Are you two fucking serious!?”
Miss Murkham stared at some Fluffies in an abandoned park. An assortment of bright colors with varying shades of dirt and muck, yet the one that caught her attention was a brown-furred Shit Rat beating up a neon-green stallion.
“DIS AM PWIE HEWD DUMMEH STAWWION! PWIE HEWD!”
Miss Murkham stared at the Shit Rat curiously. Prie? That name felt familiar.
“Pwie wook! Hooman! Hooman!”
One of the Fluffies was pointing at her and the Shit Rat began to glare at her angrily. Miss Murkham snapped her fingers, she finally remembered why the name sounded familiar. That infamous Prie project by Tally’s Games, the one that was purposely breeding hellgremlins, with said hellgremlins being released in the wild after an F3 raid.
Still Tally’s Games was three states away and that incident happened a while back. This was probably a second generation Prie.
“Dummeh hooman!”
Miss Murkham snapped out of her thoughts to see the Shit Rat glaring at her angrily.
“Dis am Pwie wand dummeh hooman, gib sketti n toysies.”
Two other Fluffies stepped forward, both glaring at Miss Murkham angrily, as the Shit Rat made a rather cocky smile.
“Gib Pwie n hewd sketti n toysies… Gib nao o Pwie n Toughies gib worstest huwties.”
Miss Murkham clicked her tongue.
“Did you just threaten me bitch?”
Your name is Picaro.
No, your name is Prie.
Munstah lady said your new name is Picaro
Your name is Prie.
“Hey… Picaro”
You back away terrified. Munstah lady scares you that much.
You had watched Munstah lady tear one of your Toughies into two.
And watched Munstah lady crush your other Toughies head into boo boo juice.
The rest of your dummeh hewd had run away and abandoned you.
Those dummehs.
Once you escape and find your herd, you’re going to give all of them the worstest hurties.
You just have to escape.
You try to run, but you can’t move.
You notice that the Munstah lady was grabbing your tail.
“Wet gu o Pwie pwetty tai-”
Your demand is interrupted by a boot to the face.
You make a high pitched screech as the bones in your smell place fracture against the sudden force, and you are sent flying at frightening speeds.
THUD
Your back hits against something hard and you land on your belly against the cold, hard ground.
“NU MO HUWTIES!” You managed to scream.
The Munstah lady suddenly grabs you by your mane, lifting you up. The pain of being lifted by the hair sends searing pain all over your head and back.
“BAD UPPIES!” You instinctively scream.
You try to squirm, only to be met with a punch to the chest.
You feel something inside you break, you don’t know what it is, but you know its bad.
You try to scream, but all you can make is a hoarse screech.
You feel your insides being crushed by another punch.
Another sickening crack.
You began to cough out boo boo juice.
You hate this.
Fluffies are only for huggies and wuv
Not hurties.
The Munstah wady lifts you up by the mane again.
You want to scream bad uppies but your voice fails you.
The Munstah wady grabs the back of your head and slams you towards a post.
The last thing you feel is your face smashing against the hard pole.
Stop kidding yourself, this wasn’t a present.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
He just forgot about it.
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”
Like how he forgot about you.
“SHUT! THE! FUCK! UP!”
An unwanted toy.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
Miss Murkham threw a toy gun at the wall. The BB gun her beloved had left behind. A Storm shooter 195. No, wait wasn’t it a Gaile 1911. No, a Gaile 1991 st-. That stupid ticking noise. There was something in the pipe. So fucking irritating. The dripping water. That muck that stained the walls. So much dirt and dust. Imperfection. Imperfection. Bleach and… grease? That was needed to clean the stains. Wait grease? No that couldn’t be right, it didn’t make sense. No wait her beloved had told her that grease cleans out stains. Did he, no wait, he was talking about grease in the hair. It was dirty but it looked cool. That’s what he said.
He says a lot of things
Miss Murkham frowned.
“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath.
“DUMMEH WADY! GIB MUMMAH BAC! BESTEST BABBEH NEE MUMMAH FO BESTEST MIWKIES WITE NAO!”
Such a shrill voice. Like sharp painted nails on chalkboards, finding their way into the ear and stabbing the brain over and over. No fucking mercy. No fucking rest. No fucking peace. Just wants, wants and wants over and over and over and over and o-
SLAM
Miss Murkham slammed her palms on the table and stared at the source of the voice. A nasty little Shit Rat baby with brown fur and a purple mane. Same fucking colors as Picaro, same fucking mouth, same fucking arrogant demanding attitude. Bestest babbeh, right? No fucking surprise there. She was always a vile, narcissistic bitch.
Bestest babbeh had backed away slightly and looked scared, but one of the other Fluffy had stepped in front of it protectively.
“Nu… nu huwt babbeh… pwease munstah wady… be nice wady.”
Suddenly Bestest babbeh was glaring at her angrily again. The shitty little rat had found its courage again. Of course it did, nice and safe behind its herd. The bitch was always like that wasn’t she. Always had her cronies to protect her. That gang of gutless fucks. Dumbass dickhead dipshits. God how she longed to smash their heads in front of the bitch, how satisfying it would be to s-
Miss Murkham suddenly sprinted towards the herd and kicked the stupid Shit Rat protecting little Picaro Jr.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The Shit Rat smashed against a wall.
Screeching.
More noise.
Shit Rats running in all directions.
Chaotic.
A stupid Shit Rat. One hand on its upper jaw, the other hand on the lower. Watching the mouth opening further than it had ever before. Terrified eyes pleading for mercy as a guttural noise escaped lips. Force needed to be applied. Increasing pressure. The feeling of skin ripping. Joints breaking. The sight of flesh tearing.
Like peeling skin off a potato, the satisfaction of ripping the lower jaw free and ripping the skin attached. Belly and bottom.
Brief delight, interrupted by a Shit Rat shitting on her leg.
Shattering the spine of a screeching Shit Rat with a single stomp. A second stomp would splatter the surface with shit and spleens. So satisfying.
Silence.
The Shit Rats were hiding now. Cowering behind boxes or their heads buried in their hooves. Picaro Jr. was hiding under a chair. A really tall chair that did nothing but offer shade against the light.
So. Fucking. Stupid.
Opening a toy box, she spotted Prince’s toy blocks. A collection of colorful cubes. She grabbed a bunch and started throwing them at Picaro Jr.
squeak
squeak
sque-SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
So utterly harmless. Foam blocks that couldn’t even hurt a fly, yet Picaro Jr. was acting like she was shot. She always was such an overdramatic bitch.
“NU HUWTIES! BESTEST BABBEH AM GUD FWUFFY! FWUFFY ONWY FO HUGGIES N WUB! NUT HUWTIES!”
Miss Murkham sneered and approached Picaro Jr. slowly.
The ugly little turd sniveled violently.
“Nu huwties huuu huuu nu huwties pwease.”
Not enough
Miss Murkham agreed. It was not enough. More. She had a point to make and she needed to drill it deep into the brain of the irritating bitch.
“Ask your herd to save you,” Miss Murkham commanded.
“Wa-huu huu wat? huuu Nu… huuu huuu nu huwties.”
“You’re Bestest babbeh, why isn’t your herd protecting you?”
Picaro Jr. looked around in confusion and for a second it didn’t seem to understand, but then it finally got it, looking very much offended.
“WAI DUMMEH HEWD NU SABE BESTEST BABBEH?!” It screamed with indignation “MUMMAH AM PWIE, DUMMEH HEWD! MUMMAH GIB WORSTEST HUWTIES IB NU SABE BESTEST BABBEH!”
Miss Murkham raised an eyebrow. She had never heard that line before. She heard that Prie variants were an extra shitty kinda hell gremlin, but never actually thought it to be true. Still it didn’t matter if Picaro Jr was a little more demanding than most, she was still scarier than this little tyrant. A point proven by the fact that none of the other Fluffies heeded Picaro’s call, all cowering and hiding as far away from her as possible.
“WAI HEWD NU SABE BESTEST BABBEH!?”
Miss Murkham remained silent as Picaro Jr stormed out of its hiding place, stomping its hooves angrily with cheeks in full pout.
“DUMMEHS! SABE BESTEST BABBEH O BESTEST BABBEH TEWW MUMMAH!"
Miss Murkham sat down bow legged and looked around. Not a single Fluffy had moved from their spot. Some peered at them, others continued to hide in fear, but all were silent and still. Meanwhile Picaro Jr was having a full-blow tantrum.
“BESTEST BABBEH SA SABE BESTEST BABBEH! WAI DUMMEH HEWD NU SABE BESTEST BABBEH! WEWWE MUMMAH? WAI MUMMAH NU GIB DUMMEH HEWD BIGGEST HUWTIES FO NU SABE BESTEST BABBEH!?”
Picaro Jr was spinning about angrily, jumping violently and stomping her hooves loudly, whilst the other Fluffies remained hidden, but from the corner of her eye, Miss Murkham noticed a Fluffy trying to sneak close.
Before Picaro Jr and the Fluffy could react, Miss Murkham lunged at the Fluffy and lifted it up by the mane.
“BAD UPPSIE! BAD UPPSIE! NU HUWTIES PWEASE! NU HUWTIES!”
Picaro Jr stared silently at the Fluffy, before raising her head up pompously with an upturned lip.
“Dummeh hewd nu sabe Bestest babbeh, nao dummeh Fwuffy get worstest huwties fwom meanie munstah.”
This bitch
This absolute narcissism of this psychopathic bitch. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but still it was astounding. The sheer entitlement of this noisy little sack of shit. This stupid, nasty, loud-mouthed, fugly ass dumb fuck.
The other Fluffy was screaming or something, but Miss Murkham didn’t care, she grabbed the back of this Fluffy.
And slammed its head into the hard basement floor.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The first hit damaged the snout.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The second hit broke the nasal bone.
EEEEERGHHHHHH
The third hit shattered what was left.
HSZRKKKK
The four hit forced the bone deeper into the head.
Krrrkrkk
The fifth hit tore open the skin and shredded the brain.
…
The sixth hit destroyed what was left of the skull.
…
The seventh hit turned the head into a mess of blood and bones.
…
The eight hit left a bloody mess
The ninth hit left a bloody mess
The tenth hit left a bloody mess
The eleventh hit left a bloody mess
The twelfth hit left a bloody mess
The thirteenth hit left a bloody mess
The fourteenth hit left a bloody mess
The fifteenth hit left a bloody mess
The sixteenth hit left a bloody mess
The seventeenth hit left a bloody mess
The eighteenth hit left a bloody mess
The nineteenth hit left her fingers clashing on the floor.
Miss Murkham stopped. She stared at the thing in her hand. A gory, swirling mess of flesh, life and bones held together by slivers of tissues, as her bloody fingers protruded from the sides. Reds of every shade as well as hints of pale yellow and white, ripped, compressed and mingled as one, leaving a puddle of luminous crimson on the floor. The beauty of chaos, passion and anger, all in such a refined red. Transfixing art that brought about a moment of peace.
But then it was ruined. The puddle of rouge, stained by hints of dark yellow and brown. A puddle of vile, filthy excrement from that nasty little Shit Rat had stained the beautiful mural of life and death and the peace was gone.
“I’M GOING TO KILL EVERY FUCKING ONE OF YOU!”
Everything after that was just a blur.
The feeling of cracking teeth upon a table.
The feeling of flailing a Fluffy by the tail.
The feeling of beating and breaking every leg of a miserable sobbing creature.
The feeling of throwing boxes at screaming Shit Rats as they scattered and scrambled.
The feeling of smashing a Fluffy’s spine with a chair.
The feeling of drowning a Fluffy in its own waste.
The feeling of digging fingers into a foal’s eye sockets.
The feeling of squeezing a Fluffy’s chest until it burst.
The feeling of choking a Fluffy by the neck.
The feeling of kicking and stomping a
Stuffing corpses into the mouth of a bloated mare.
Fleeting feelings of clarity amidst a chaotic haze of red, but eventually there was none and the sanity came back.
How boring
How boring indeed. Such meaningless murders. Mindless maliciousness. Misshapen macabre. They lacked…
They lacked something.
She didn’t know what.
They lacked something.
These kills didn’t feel fulfilling.
She looked around the room. Blood stained walls and corpses littered around. The stench of rot and the scattered waste. This was not art, this was muck. Disorder with no beauty. Destruction without passion. What she had done was no better than a Shit Rat. A tantrum without any goals. Rage without direction. The fruitless, despairing actions of the powerless in the face of a cold, uncaring fate.
She pulled out her phone. A desperate aching hope that he might have called her, but nothing. Over a dozen missed calls and none were from him. She turned off the phone and saw her face reflected on the screen. Her wretched reflection. Her imperfections.
Her hair was an unkempt mess. Hair strands shooting from every direction. She turned on the camera and looked at her reflection. Hints of her natural dark orange hair tainting the dyed black. Her hair was supposed to be long, straight and black. Like those geishas she saw online, the ones he said he loved.
You know he prefers dumb blondes
She looked at her eyes. A dull, dusty green, but he said he loved her eyes. He said that they really made her stand out. She got laser eye surgery just for that, but now they looked ugly and bloodshot.
He clearly prefers other colors
She pulled the camera away and looked at a selfie she had sent him months ago. She had sent it in an attempt to seduce him, but she noticed that fat in her arms and thighs. This feeling of disgust. How could she send him that photo? He liked her women lithe and graceful. She spent years doing ballet and aerobics for that reason and then she sends him that. Such hideous imperfections of her physical form.
Yet he prefers them tall and curvy
Miss Murkham slammed her phone on the table and banged her head with her palm.
“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”
She walked in circles, realizing what she did wrong. How could she have been so stupid?
“STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!”
Did he leave her for such imperfections
He never wanted you in the first place
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”
You were just the back up
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
Cheep cheep cheep
The sounds of distressed chirping. Soft yet sharp. Miss Murkham looked around in confusion. Following the sound of the voice, she spotted some brown and purple underneath a big Fluffy.
“Oh… It’s you.”
Picaro Jr had somehow managed to survive, but it was clear the its mind had not remained unscathed, with the Shit Rat regressing back to chirpy babbeh form.
Miss Murkham looked at the tiny Shit Rat and sneered.
“You survived,” Miss Murkham stated coldly.
Miss Murkham knelt down and picked the foal by the tail.
Pipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipi
Squeaking and squirming the foal flailed by its tail.
“What was it you told me before? Stop being a baby? I didn’t hurt you too hard? Yeah that was about right, huh.”
Miss Murkham suddenly slammed Picaro Jr down on the table.
Pipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipi
Miss Murkham sneered and looked at the vulgar creature. This sniveling sack of shit. Picaro Jr had curled up like a ball. Tail tucked between its legs, whilst it suckled on one of its hooves. To think it once thought itself the top shit, now reduced to this. It was a pathetic sight to say the least, but as Miss Murkham stared at the quivering, cowering foal, she found herself thinking about her highschool days.
That one particular moment where the Bitch and her toadies had cornered her in the bathroom. The beating she had gotten that day. She forgot what happened afterwards. Someone saved her and a teacher got involved, but there was one thing she remembered.
That face.
That look of disgust from her beloved. Even for only a second that look that she was a filthy stain on the side of the toilet. That one moment in his life, where he saw her as garbage.
And it was all her fault.
That fucking bitch.
Miss Murkham clicked her tongue and stormed upstairs.
A knife, a scissor and a razor, she marched back down angrily.
Picaro Jr was still on the table. Of course she was, she had nowhere else to go and Miss Murkham slapped the Shit Rat hard.
Pipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipi
The Shit Rat was freaking out. Chirping like an alarm as it wriggled about in a panic.
Miss Murkham held it down with a finger, pressing hard enough to cause the Shit Rat immense discomfort, then she grabbed the razor.
“Time to make you ugly bitch.”
Slowly she began to shave the Shit Rat. She dug the blade deep, purposely skinning the flesh along with the fur.
Pipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipi
Miss Murkham worked slowly. Sadistically slowly. She peels the fur and flesh roughly. Each scraping motion taken with great force to ensure a prolonged pain for Picaro Jr.
Pipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipi
Tufts of brown fur laid on the table and Picaro Jr was quite a sight. Lines of pale skin along with lines of brown. Bleeding cuts and purple bruises.
Miss Murkham grabbed the scissors and pulled on one of Picaro Jr’s ears.
Pipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipip-
Snip
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Miss Murkham tossed the ear aside and sneered.
“Not ugly enough.”
She held one of the Shit Rats hindlegs with the scissor.
Snip
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
A lighter helped to cauterized the wound.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Three legs left. She looked around and saw a heavy book. Some sort of dictionary. Raising it high she waited for the perfect moment… Then she slammed the book down on Picaro Jr’s two left legs.
PIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPI
The two legs shattered under the weight. Like boneless tubes of flesh. Much more ugly, but still not enough.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Picaro Jr. was writhing in agony. The Shit Rat squirming violently as she chirped like an alarm.
For a second there was satisfaction, before Picaro Jr. began suckling the hoof of her one good leg for comfort.
Miss Murkham watched silently and sneered.
Such a simple act.
Yet there was just something about it.
This once arrogant entitled brat. Now suckling it’s hoof a baby. This nasty little shit rat, trying to act all innocent, as though her past actions had been forgotten.
That Bitch was always the same. Acting all innocent to absolve herself of sin. The school was tolerant. Sometimes willing to overlook her transgressions, and if that didn’t work, her daddy’s money was more than enough to convince them.
That thought pissed Miss Murkham off.
Really pissed her off.
She thought of that time she went to hospital, after the Bitch had given her a rough beating. She remembered the Bitch acting all repentant in front of everybody, giving that “heartfelt apology”. That apology was so fake. Insincere and snobbish, yet they all accepted it, because forgiveness was a commodity. One that could easily be bought.
It’s easier to forgive when your not the victim
Miss Murkham stared silently at the wall. The peers. The police. The principal. They all said that she had been forgiven and that everything was fine.
Even our own parents
That thought left her cold.
She could still remember what her father told her.
Kali you need to learn to forgive and forget. They paid for your medical bills and they compensated us handsomely for the… accident.
Being punched repeatedly in the chest is quite an accident, huh?
“Five hundred and fifty thousand. That’s the price of forgiveness. A little over half a mil.”
The anger was gone. Replaced by a cold, dark feeling.
She could still remember her mother screaming at her, telling to stop looking for revenge.
With this money we can get back our lives. Grow up Kali, don’t you want your parents to finally be happy?
What about our happiness?
Miss Murkham remained silent as she thought about life after that. University paid through a scholarship. Part time jobs to pay for living expenses. She didn’t want anything from them after that and over the years she distanced herself from them. They never tried to reconnect with her either. They were more than happy to keep away, as long as she sent the money monthly.
They didn’t really love us.
“No one loves us”
A disheartening statement and Miss Murkham looked up at the ceiling in defeat.
Such a depressing thought, but in truth, she didn’t care about love if it came from the masses. Co-workers and baristas. Store keepers and gym coaches. Their love was unnecessary. Even the love from her parents was unneeded.
The only love she needed was his.
The love of her beloved.
But clearly he loves her
Miss Murkham maintained her gaze upon the bare ceiling, as a single tear fell from her eyes.
“I’m so… I’m so tired of all of this.”
This sinking feeling, as though she was descending into the cold depths of the dark abyss. Her body felt heavy and her mind felt numb. This despairing feeling of loneliness and this aching thought that she would never be good enough for him.
Miss Murkham closed her eyes and rested her hands on her head.
These were the days she just wanted to drop dead and die.
“Oh stop being so dramatic, all of this over some stupid gu… huh?!”
Murkham looked around in confusion.
“Wait a minute… Wait a minute.”
Murkham looked at her hands and wriggled her fingers in disbelief.
“No way… No fucking way!.”
A cruel smile lined her lips and Murkham began to chuckle.
“Holy shit! For real?! For fucking real!?”
Murkham jumped up and clapped her lands loudly, as she began to laugh merrily.
“I’m in control! I’m in fucking control!”
Her cruel smile grew wider and she began to hop around merrily. This rush of excitement. She couldn’t believe it, and the more she moved about, the more giddy she became.
“Ohh fuck yeah! This is what I’m talking about!”
Murkham stopped. This feeling that this was temporary. Fun was limited after all. So it was best to enjoy it while it lasted.
She looked around the basement, admiring the morbid decor. Blood stained walls and broken bodies. Limbs and ligaments scattered here and there. She made a frame with her fingers and looked upon the art.
“Ah such beauty! Such raw, passionate carnage. So visceral. So emotive. A painting of chaos and death. The randomness of life… And god do I sound so pretentious. HAHAHAHA what an absolute mess. Hopefully I’m the one cleaning it!
Murkham continued laughing, but paused as her a familiar sound.
Cheep cheep cheep
The chirping of one Picaro Jr and Murkham began to smile.
“Fucking hell dipshit, I completely forgot you existed. Thanks for reminding me of your shitty stupid existence HAHAHA!”
Murkham practically lunged for the table and stared at Picaro Jr. The artificial abomination that laid on the table sure was an ugly sight. A tiny flesh bag with stripes of fur and skin, suckling its one good hoof desperately for comfort as it expelled a steady stream of disgusting waste. Murkham grinned.
“Time is but a ship constantly on the move. There’s no point looking back to where we’ve been, and there’s no point looking forward. It’s best to live in the moment and right now there lays before me a putrid, pustulent pissbag pathetically pleading for punishment. Who am I to deny such a poor creature its just reward?”
Murkham cackled and skipped to a plastic box. Inside a medikit specific for Fluffies. All the necessary equipment to deal with poor wittle Fwuffy wuffy accidents. Witty bitty shit bags just pushing the right buttons to piss people off, Murkham slammed down a box full of My Little Revival Shots Max Power..
“Miss Picaro Jr… you’re a special kinda gal, so you deserve a special kinda treatment. These shots are bound to light up your life. Wanna know what they have in these things? Let me see whistle… WOW! Whole lotta chemicals baby, Epinephrine, Sodium Metabisulfite, Disodium Edetate Dihydrate, Chlorobutanol, Corticosteroids, Excipients, and these Max Powers have an extra ingredient C seventeen H twenty one NO four… Eh I wonder what these all mean HAHAHA!”
Picaro Jr was just looking at her, and Murkham giggled, as she put on an accent.
“Just for you. I give good deal. I give huggies n wuv. You want that?”
Picaro Jr looked at her blankly, but then began to chirp slightly, and Murkham recognized slight elation in the tone. It was clear that Picaro Jr understood.
“I knew you like. Smart Fluffy, yes? You like Einstein… or no, maybe more like Weinstein, but is good. Is good…”
Murkham chuckled and the accent dropped.
“I hear that one hit of these Little Revival babies sends your heart beating faster than a locomotive, and that’s for a full grown… Let’s see what five does to a foal.”
Murkham opened the box and laid five shots elegantly in front of Picaro Jr.
“How should I do this? One by one would be sadistically fun. Each shot granting you more energy than your body could handle, quickly expediting the train to death, and you’d be fully aware. Each shot speeding up your impending doom and… wait a minute. What the fuck am I thinking? You’re fucking dumbass Shit Rat. You’d have no comprehension. Let’s just do this then.”
Murkham suddenly grabbed all five shots and stabbed them into Picaro Jr.
PIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPI
The alarm of delicious delightful despair. Such a rush and Murkham hummed merrily as she push down on the five injections.
PIPIPIPIPIPI… PI… PI… SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Picaro Jr had begun shaking so violently that she was practically vibrating on the table. Her eyes began to bulge out of their sockets, as blood began dripping from her nose.
Then all of sudden.
POP
Like a balloon, Picaro Jr suddenly burst. A puddle of spew and entrails splattered all over the table and some got on Murkham too.
Murkham stared in disbelief, then clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“Seriously. That’s fucking it!? Boooooring. Shit. I th-”
Miss Murkham looked around in confusion, then stared at the puddle of gore before her.
“What?”
She didn’t understand what was going on. She blacked out and now there was… this? She examined her surroundings carefully and noticed a couple of injections on the table.
“I… I didn’t use this.”
She looked at the injections with concern, then massaged her forehead. Maybe she was just too stressed out. She took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Those dark feeling were mostly gone. Just this feeling of immense dissatisfaction. She stood up and walked back upstairs.
“Better clean this all up before they become permanent.”
Finale
“Hey! There you are, are you alright? I heard what happened with Miss Murkham.”
“Oh… yeah… I…”
“I can’t believe she threatened you.”
“Ye… yeah…”
“Oh there you are! Are you okay!”
“Oh… I’m…”
“She’s a little shaken up.”
“What the hell’s wrong with Miss Murkham!? Seriously, pulling out that knife!”
“Ye… yeah…”
“God, I know she was going through some stuff, but this is too much.”
“Y… yeah… I… I didn’t mean to offend her.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I… I just… I told her that she could do better than that playboy. She’s hot enough to get any guy out there.”
“Eh?”
“And… and… well, she just lost it.”
“What the fuck.”
“Seriously, what the hell.”
“I didn’t me-”
“You did nothing wrong, gurl! You were just giving life advice!”
“Yeah! You have nothing to apologize about!”
“But…”
“God, Murkham needs some serious help and this ain’t your fault.”
“I… just…”
“It’s fine gurl, but seriously fuck Miss Murkham.”
“Yeah fuck her.”
“I hope she gets some help.”
“Seriously?!”
“You’re too nice, gurl.”
A car laid parked at the side of the road, near the edge of a cliff.
Sat on the hood of the car, Miss Murkham stared out, as she contemplated on her life, or rather the new development in her career. Immediate termination for her violent actions.
Not even a suspension or warning
“Don’t be dumb, I lost control and acted irrationally. They had every right to fire me. We’re lucky that Atirez didn’t press charges.”
Silence. The voice in her head had no retorts, and Miss Murkham enjoyed the view of the dazzling sunset. The vivid orange shimmering under the blueish-green sea, against a pale blue backdrop. It was beautiful.
Now what?
Miss Murkham shrugged. What was she supposed to do now? She had no idea. Her boss had recommended therapy, but she already knew what was wrong with her. Her beloved was not by her side. How was she supposed to be whole when her other half was missing?
Is it weird how calm this all is?
Miss Murkham thought about it, and she had to agree. She was feeling rather calm given the circumstances. This outburst would no doubt affect her future prospects. Other jobs asking why she was fired. She could fib it, but what if they called her boss to verify?
Seems we won’t have any work any time soon, huh?
“Yeah… seems so.”
An odd feeling. Not anguish, but relief. This wave of calm.
We got no strings… to hold us down…
“To make us fret…”
Or make us frown…
“We had strings… but now we’re free…”
There are no strings on we.
A dozen seagulls squawked as they flew overhead, and Miss Murkham swore she could hear the sound of applause.
Freedom.
No more commitments to a job she hardly cared about.
No more fake smiles and obliging colleagues she barely knew.
No more acting like everything was fine, as she wandered through life aimlessly.
Now we’re free.
Miss Murkham pulled up her phone and looked at her banking apps.
“Seven hundred and fifty two thousand in savings between two bank accounts. Five hundred twenty three thousand in stocks and bonds.”
House fully paid for. No more debts.
“Freedom… to do what we please.”
What do you wanna do though?
“I… I…”
What did she want to do? Miss Murkham didn’t know. She had been living life just for the sake of living. No hobbies. No passion. The only thing she loved was… him.
“Ullysse”
The handsome prince charming, huh?
“I… I want him.”
But he doesn’t belong to you. He belongs to someone else.
“He… He… That’s because I’m not good enough. I’m not good enough for him yet.”
Well we have plenty of time to make ourselves better now.
“I’m gonna beat her. I’m gonna steal my beloved back from that Slut.”
That’s gonna take a lot of work
Another thought. Another woman. Seething rage at an injustice that still hadn’t found any resolution.
“The Bitch. I’m gonna find her… and I’m gonna kill her.”
Now we’re talking. Find her and hunt her down.
Miss Murkham grinned.
This feeling of vigor. The drive of a purpose. The mundane life she once lived, no longer holding her back. She now had a mission.
We’ll need to grow stronger and we’ll need to prepare.
“Improvement of body and mind. We’ll need to strengthen mind and muscle.”
Recon too. Hunting blindly is something that only idiots would do.
“Locations. Weakpoints. We’ll need to obtain proper equipment. It’ll take time.”
We have plenty of time.
Miss Murkham chuckled. It would seem that getting terminated was the best that happened to her this year.
“No more strings… and now we’re free.”
To become a hunter. A life of glee.
This was only the beginning.
M-U-R-K-H-A-M
