Woods at night

I thought I’d just kill her and dump her in the woods like the rest of them. She fit the profile: young, blonde, cleavage and thighs showing, a necklace I could take as a keepsake. She got in my taxi drunk and told me where to go. Everything was going to plan.

But when I told her, after we’d missed her turning, that it didn’t matter, I wasn’t taking her home, I was going to slit her throat, she just looked at me, face all scrunched up and perplexed and said:

Oh, do you have to? I mean, apart from the fact that my mum’ll get worried – don’t worry about that, she worries if I put two sugars in my coffee instead of one – it is a bit of cliché, don’t you think, a taxi driver dumping someone in the woods? Couldn’t you be a little more imaginative?

And, anyway, do you really want the police to put all that effort into investigating a cliché? Surely they’re bored of it by now. And the expense. The forensics, the detectives, the paperwork. And then there’s the money the press will put into reporting it. If they bother. Girl dumped in the woods. There may be a point where they can’t even be bothered to report on it anymore. And I might be that point. I’ll be a sideline, an in-other-news.

Don’t you want to be famous? Don’t you want to be known like the Zodiac killer or Son of Sam? Aren’t you supposed to want that? Or is that where you break with the cliché? You’re the middle-management of murderers. Neglected, forgotten, forgettable, replaceable.

Although, now I think about it, this middle management vibe is just another cliché, isn’t it? When they eventually arrest you, everyone’ll say, oh, it’s always the quiet ones. He was a lovely chap, always working in his garden. I didn’t think he could hurt a fly. And I’ll – look at the way I’m dressed. They’ll say I was asking for it and then someone else’ll say, you can’t say that. A woman has a right to dress any way she likes.

Can’t you be black? Or a woman?

And I had to admit she had a point.

But like the man says, you can’t argue someone out of something they didn’t argue themselves into. It might be a cliché, but people still love looking at sunsets.

They found her three days later, throat slit, necklace gone, her tongue cut out. She deserved that. She talked too much. And you’ve got to give the cops something new, haven’t you? A sign that I’m maturing. Just like she said. A cliché.


37 thoughts on “Just Because It’s A Cliché Doesn’t Mean It’s Not Going To Happen

  1. Loved it! I like the fact that the girl really just goes on and on with rationalization of the reasons not to kill her. It makes her not a cliche’, and I find that refreshing.

    • Thanks for that. I hadn’t really thought about it that way. It fits with the line about arguing someone out of something they didn’t argue themselves into. She’s trying to argue him out of it. She can’t

  2. Charming. I like how despite leaving it old hat he still managed to keep it lightly fresh in the face of his own madness.

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