Hector & the Clarinets

Every time the clarinet section started playing, Hector cringed. It reminded him of his sister. The obnoxious little pest who he had been forced to live next door to for sixteen long years. She had practiced every night after dinner for twelve of those sixteen years. Yet, she never seemed to get any better.

That was what had driven him to kill for the first time. The girl next door to him in his first apartment played the clarinet too. She played fairly well. She only hit a bad note every once in a while. Every time she did, Hector felt the rage bubble up higher and higher in his throat like bile.

There had really been no other choice. Hector had to kill that girl. She would have driven him insane if he hadn't. It had been easy enough. She was small, her neck snapped as easily as a pencil in his meaty hands.

Beside him, Hector's date was engrossed in the beautiful melodies of the symphony. She did not notice him looking at her with a growing anger. She paid special attention to the clarinet section. Someday she hoped all her practice would land her a prime seat.

Victim Number Thirteen turned and smiled sweetly at Hector. She was looking forward to their good night kiss and being alone together.

So was Hector.