Love SICK
You're getting bored anyway, you decide to end this experiment and give his neck a twist to finally kill him. You then take him to the kitchen and start preparing him for dinner. Sis just happens to walk in at this point. You take advantage of the situation, since you realize you never finished the poem.
"Oh hi dear! How was your day?"
"Ugh. I don't want to talk about it. Is that dinner?"
"Yeah, I would've had it done sooner, but you know how it is. Sorry babe."
"Well it smells good."
"He's a Mormon, they generally take care of their bodies, no toxic substances to worry about, might have to add some spices though, they can be a little bland."
"Well, I know you know how to cook, just keep it warm for me, I'm very tired and I'm going to sleep."
"Will do sis." You say as she kisses you and heads upstairs.
As you pull out the entrails and put them in a pot, you suddenly think up something that rhymes with "disembowel" for your poem you were trying to finish earlier.
"Blood soaked towel!" you say. "Man, I'm a doctor, a cook AND a fucking poet."
"Oh hi dear! How was your day?"
"Ugh. I don't want to talk about it. Is that dinner?"
"Yeah, I would've had it done sooner, but you know how it is. Sorry babe."
"Well it smells good."
"He's a Mormon, they generally take care of their bodies, no toxic substances to worry about, might have to add some spices though, they can be a little bland."
"Well, I know you know how to cook, just keep it warm for me, I'm very tired and I'm going to sleep."
"Will do sis." You say as she kisses you and heads upstairs.
As you pull out the entrails and put them in a pot, you suddenly think up something that rhymes with "disembowel" for your poem you were trying to finish earlier.
"Blood soaked towel!" you say. "Man, I'm a doctor, a cook AND a fucking poet."
