There's Something Very off About the Serial Killer That We Smuggled Out of Prison and Into Our Home...

"He's killed again." Said my wife, Barbara, as she brought in the laundry.

"For god's sake. Who was it this time?" I asked from behind my newspaper.

"Mary-Sue from two streets over. You know the one. She was here for Janey's dinner party last week."

I shook my head in non-recollection.

"Had brown hair and thick rimmed glasses."

My wife, Barbara, put the circles of her thumbs and index fingers over her eyes to represent glasses and help jog my memory as to who Mary-Sue from two streets over was... or had been.

"Ah yes. I remember now. Brown hair, thick rimmed glasses. Mary-Sue."

"That's right."

My wife, Barbara, began folding the shirts.

"In hindsight we shouldn't have invited her over at all as she was exactly his type." Barbara continued.

"He has a very particular type."

"Remind me, David, why did we smuggle that serial killer out of prison into our home again?"

This is of course the exact moment when Jeff, the serial killer, walks into the kitchen.

"Oh, hello Jeff." I say, "How are we feeling today?"

"Very well, thank you David."

"Fancy something for breakfast?" Said Barbara.

"No, I'm all right thanks Babbs. I killed last night and need to purge for the next couple of days."

"Right you are." Said Barbara, my wife.

Jeff began to pour himself a cup of tea. He put the bag in. He fingered the kettle. Then went for the milk. He put some milk in on top of the tea bag.

My hands started to shake. The newspaper in my hands was audibly rustling. Barbara caught my eye and shook her head frantically. The moment continued for an eternity.

Finally Jeff poured some water from the kettle in to his cup, and left the kitchen.

Barbara looked at me. I looked at her. One silent tear dropped from Barbara's cheek.

---

Credited to koalazeus 

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