Read Online The Egg Said Nothing by Caris O'Malley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Caris O'Malley
Ads: Link
you.”
She looked me in the face, likely searching to see if I was telling the truth. I heard a sound from across the room. Her eyes went wide, and the sound of pounding footsteps echoed in my ears. There was an embarrassing scream, and I watched as the head of a shovel came down on Ashley’s face. She didn’t have time to cry out. There was a solid thunk; she fell limply to the floor. I crawled frantically over to her.
Her beautiful face was a mass of blood and bruising. Her nose was pushed into her face, clearly broken in several places. The skin around her eyes was brown and purple. Her teeth were smashed, the adorably chipped tooth lost in a row of jagged edges. I felt for a pulse; there was none. Tears streamed down my face. My beautiful Ashley.
She was dead as fuck.
~Chapter 11~
In which the narrator calls a telephone psychic.
“Come here, you bastard!” I yelled, climbing to my feet.
“Oh, fuck!” my double said. His eyes darted frantically, searching for an escape route. He knew as well as I did there wasn’t one.
“Look what you did, you bitch!” I screamed, my voice hoarse with exertion. I started toward him. He backed up towards the window and looked at it, brow furrowed in worry.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not going to throw you out. I just want to talk to you a little.”
He didn’t seem convinced. I took another step towards him, holding my hands out innocently in front of me, doing my best to look like a poor, misunderstood and slightly deranged nice guy.
“Come on over here.” I gestured at the couch. “Let’s sit down and talk about this.”
“It had to happen!” he said, stumbling over his words. “You know that!”
“Oh, yes. I know.” My tone was reassuring. “That’s all in the past. I just want to talk about puppies with you. What kind of puppies do you like?”
“We’re the same person, numbnuts! We like the same kind of puppies! You don’t need to kill me,” he said. “You need to kill yourself.”
“Remind me what kind of puppies we like again. I can’t seem to remember.”
He looked nervous, scared even. “We don’t! We don’t like a certain kind!”
“Right, right. I know that,” I said. “But if we were pressed, what kind would we like?”
“I don’t know!” he shouted.
“Oh, come on. What’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”
“Fuck! I don’t know!” he said. “Chihuahuas!”
“Chihuahuas?” I asked.
“Yeah, fucking Chihuahuas! Just get on with it!”
“Get on with what? I’m only trying to talk to you about puppies.”
“No, you’re not. You’re getting warmed up to launch into a big psychotic speech,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” I argued. “What sort of speech would I give?”
“You’re going to tell me about how we love puppies but hate ankle biters. And sometimes the things we love the most are the things that are worst for us. And, even though we love ourselves, sometimes we bite our own ankles. Just fucking get on with it,” he said.
He got my speech rather well, stole my thunder, really. I was at a loss for what to say; I had invested a lot in that speech. “So, what’s next?”
“You chase me towards the window around the right side of the couch, and I run towards the bedroom. I slip on the eggshells. You catch me, and...” he trailed off.
“And?” I asked.
He looked at his feet, mumbled something.
“What was that? I didn’t catch it.”
“You choke me to death,” he said.
“I do?” I’d considered making a break for the shovel, but now I didn’t have to. “Well, let’s get on with it then.” I started walking slowly towards him around the left side of the couch.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“What?” I asked innocently.
“You went around the wrong side! Go back!” he screamed, his face turning red with anger.
“Huh?” I asked. “Oh, look at that. I guess I did.”
“Stop fucking changing
She looked me in the face, likely searching to see if I was telling the truth. I heard a sound from across the room. Her eyes went wide, and the sound of pounding footsteps echoed in my ears. There was an embarrassing scream, and I watched as the head of a shovel came down on Ashley’s face. She didn’t have time to cry out. There was a solid thunk; she fell limply to the floor. I crawled frantically over to her.
Her beautiful face was a mass of blood and bruising. Her nose was pushed into her face, clearly broken in several places. The skin around her eyes was brown and purple. Her teeth were smashed, the adorably chipped tooth lost in a row of jagged edges. I felt for a pulse; there was none. Tears streamed down my face. My beautiful Ashley.
She was dead as fuck.
~Chapter 11~
In which the narrator calls a telephone psychic.
“Come here, you bastard!” I yelled, climbing to my feet.
“Oh, fuck!” my double said. His eyes darted frantically, searching for an escape route. He knew as well as I did there wasn’t one.
“Look what you did, you bitch!” I screamed, my voice hoarse with exertion. I started toward him. He backed up towards the window and looked at it, brow furrowed in worry.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not going to throw you out. I just want to talk to you a little.”
He didn’t seem convinced. I took another step towards him, holding my hands out innocently in front of me, doing my best to look like a poor, misunderstood and slightly deranged nice guy.
“Come on over here.” I gestured at the couch. “Let’s sit down and talk about this.”
“It had to happen!” he said, stumbling over his words. “You know that!”
“Oh, yes. I know.” My tone was reassuring. “That’s all in the past. I just want to talk about puppies with you. What kind of puppies do you like?”
“We’re the same person, numbnuts! We like the same kind of puppies! You don’t need to kill me,” he said. “You need to kill yourself.”
“Remind me what kind of puppies we like again. I can’t seem to remember.”
He looked nervous, scared even. “We don’t! We don’t like a certain kind!”
“Right, right. I know that,” I said. “But if we were pressed, what kind would we like?”
“I don’t know!” he shouted.
“Oh, come on. What’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”
“Fuck! I don’t know!” he said. “Chihuahuas!”
“Chihuahuas?” I asked.
“Yeah, fucking Chihuahuas! Just get on with it!”
“Get on with what? I’m only trying to talk to you about puppies.”
“No, you’re not. You’re getting warmed up to launch into a big psychotic speech,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” I argued. “What sort of speech would I give?”
“You’re going to tell me about how we love puppies but hate ankle biters. And sometimes the things we love the most are the things that are worst for us. And, even though we love ourselves, sometimes we bite our own ankles. Just fucking get on with it,” he said.
He got my speech rather well, stole my thunder, really. I was at a loss for what to say; I had invested a lot in that speech. “So, what’s next?”
“You chase me towards the window around the right side of the couch, and I run towards the bedroom. I slip on the eggshells. You catch me, and...” he trailed off.
“And?” I asked.
He looked at his feet, mumbled something.
“What was that? I didn’t catch it.”
“You choke me to death,” he said.
“I do?” I’d considered making a break for the shovel, but now I didn’t have to. “Well, let’s get on with it then.” I started walking slowly towards him around the left side of the couch.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“What?” I asked innocently.
“You went around the wrong side! Go back!” he screamed, his face turning red with anger.
“Huh?” I asked. “Oh, look at that. I guess I did.”
“Stop fucking changing
Similar Books
