Chapter 4

“AHHHMMMM... AHHHHHMMMM... AAAAHHHHMMMM...” 

Jewell tried to breath through her eyelids, like the book had instructed.  She could hear a faint sound somewhere in the distance, maybe a ringing.  She maintained Position Four and tried her best to astro-project herself to Nirvana, or wherever the hell she was supposed to be able to go... that warm, quiet, soft place the Maharishi had spoken of.  She dared not open her eyes, because the damn office would be there.

The ringing continued.   Ignore it... There was no turning back now, she'd bought the leotards and paid for the retreat weekends, so by God she was going to get some peace, even if she had to kill somebody to do it!     

            “AHHHMMMMM... AHMMM— GOD DAMN IT, LUTHER, ANSWER THE FRIGGIN’ PHONE!  JEEEZUZ!!!!" 

A hand appeared from underneath the covers of her bed and fumbled for the headset.  The phone disappeared under the covers, and Jewell discerned a couple of grunts and she thought, possibly, an uh-huh or two.   A distinctive thud told her the phone had fallen on the carpet.  Luther’s wheezing/snoring made her realize that whoever the caller was, she'd have to wait to find out if Luther cared to share the message with her.  She hated it when he took her messages.  If it wasn't bad enough that he knew her business before she did, there was a better than even chance that he wouldn't remember it at all.

            "Luther..." she whispered, hoping to rouse him. He didn't move.

             "Pssst... Hey, Luther..." Jewell repeated, a little louder now. Nothing.

Shaking her head in disgust, Jewell got up from the floor, walked over to her bedside table, opened the top drawer and grabbed the pistol.  Straddling Luther's unconscious form, she positioned herself facing the head of the bed, picked up the glass of water sitting on the table, pulled back the blanket, and poured the water on the sleeping lump trapped beneath her.   His body started to convulse in reaction, but she waited.  Open your eyes, dammit.  Now grinning maniacally, she pointed the pistol at his forehead.

Staring through dead mackerel eyes, Luther howled like a wounded animal and scrunched a pillow over his face, his body trying to contort itself into a fetal position.  Jewell smiled and pulled the trigger, firing into the pillow.  The sound of the blast caused dogs throughout the neighborhood to begin barking frantically.

            "What's the matter, hotshot, can't take a little cranial aeration?  What a wuss..." 

Looking out from under one corner at her, Luther's expression captured the incredulous stare of a victim, a helpless waif wondering if this broad had finally gone totally ape-shit!