untitled, possible book,

When I saw her, I knew she was the one.

Big hair, big laugh, she caught my attention straight away. Now, having chosen, I was looking at her in a different way.

I could see she was all make-up and fancy clothes, nothing as special as  she  thought she was. She had probably spent hours trying to cover up her unremarkable visage with shit that made her, in the end, look like a cheap hooker!

Did she realise how utterably ugly she looked now? I would never understand how or why women could do this to themselves. Painted, padded, preened. I mean, did they honestly think we would fall for them, head over heels, the more flesh they showed, or the more paint they plastered?

Wasn't the thrill of it all in the chase, not the cleaning? But i suppose the way men thought these days, bulging tits and short skirts was enough! Well, so be it....
But i had had enough.

I was sick of the constant beauty commercials. The creams for eternal youth, the shampoos that promised golden fleece, moisturisers, balms, age defying concoctions that would eventually fail, leaving deserts for skin. Let them poison their bodies with additives, colours, preservatives, agents and emulsions.

Why didn't they just go to some backstreet skin-butcher and replace anything they didn't approve of?  Surely, by now, there was some boffin somewhere, in a 'clinic', doling out cheap expensive perfect body parts? Well, this one had no need now!

I was here.

As the bile that had risen in my throat subsided, I finished my beer, and stood up from my perch at the bar.

I could see her looking my way, a sly wink, suggestive smile. I gave her my best smile back. Lovely white, clean, perfect teeth, behind nice firm full lips. She turned toward me as I approached, and I quickly gave her the once over.

Fake Jimmy Choo's, painted toes, soft calves, round knees, half her heavy looking thighs. She wore a tube of Lycra from her armpits to her ass, holding that part of her up and out. Her wobbly chest giving the elastic a good workout at the front. I didn't need to study her face and hair. It would be just the same as all those commercials, or all those magazines.

Boring.


A couple of hours later we were walking back to my place. It was so easy. Just mention where  lived, and she was mine. So predictable. I let her in the lift first, and pressed 'P' for the penthouse. I'm sure she was half way to coming when I did this! They're all the same...

I opened the door for her ( I was a gentleman after all) and let us in.
"Would you like a drink?" I asked.
"Oh yes, WOW! look at this place!" she gushed.
Always the same reaction!
"Vodka? Ice?" I said to her back as it walked accross the hardwood floor to the windows.
No answer.
Always the same.
Typical.
Too interested in her surroundings to notice anything else.
So, leaving the drinks on the bar table, I strode over to where she was, and in one swift move, swung the blade in a wide arc, slicing through her neck, ending up facing away from her. Her head never moved.

I turned to see the dark dripping line accross her neck spread. I let the sword drop to the floor and caught her just as she began to fall. One arm around her waist, the other pressed down on the top of her head. we stood there, like a loved-up couple, gazing out at the spectacular cityscape outside.

"Now, honey, lets get you fixed up" I whispered in her ear.

It was SO easy....