Tuesday, July 17, 2012

10 Dead bitch

The Babushka walked home that night to a dark and cold apartment. The power had yet to be restored at Watershed Heights. She tried to fall asleep, but a loud and relentless storm crashed and boomed above her.
The Babushka tossed and turned all night, but there was something tugging at the back of her conscience. It wasn't the profound darkness that shrouded the normally night-life lit streets out her window. It wasn't the biting cold left behind by the absence of electric heating. There was something else.
At the crack of thunder, he Babushka sat up hurriedly and shot her baggy eyes to the digital clock by her bed, only to remember that the electricity was out. The clock stared back at her blankly. The apartment reeked of silence.
She then peered down at the old Russian watch on her fat wrist. 1:00 am. Exactly.
Suddenly, the Babushka heard a hallow stomp climbing the stairs of Watershed Heights.
They sounded empty, lost.
Svetlana sat and pondered. She momentarily settled back down into bed, closing her eyes. The footsteps continued to ascend. The Babushka popped open her left eye.
A hissing whisper echoed through the stairwell. "I must get some esleep," the Babushka grunted. However, she found herself being drawn from bed. Her slippers slipped on over her bunioned old feet and she found her way out the creaky, rotting door.
The Babushka peered left and right and saw the flit of a black habit turning up a new flight of stairs. It was that crazy nun bitch that lived a few doors down. Agnes Monaghan. What was she doing up this late? Nuns weren't supposed to party...
The Babushka followed. One heave of a fat arthritic thigh at a time...
By the last flight of stairs, the Babushka's asthma was really kicking in. She huffed and puffed, bending over and clutching her belly. She peered upwards to see Agnes standing at the top, stepping forward onto the roof of the building, completely unaware of the Babushka's inquisitive gaze.
The Babushka began hoisting herself up the stairs. Agnes remained in place. As the Babushka creeped closer, she heard whispering. Slowly, the whispering grew into a passionate bellow.
"GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD FORGIVE ME!!!!" Screamed the nun. Thunder boomed and Agnes stepped out into the rain, arms raised, completely indifferent to the large wet spots forming all over her habit. Then the Babushka heard a quiet sob. She stepped closer again, now also on the building's roof. The nun dropped her head, her arms still directed towards the heavens. "Christians..." thought the Babushka.
A wave of sensitivity overcame her, however. The Babushka's face twisted with empathy for this poor, lost soul. What was this strange warmth bulging from right above the Babushka's artery? That same strange force that pulled her out of bed was now guiding the Babushka's hand toward the dear nun's shoulder. A gesture of comfort.
Her hand barely grazed the back of the nun's shoulder when the crazy ass bitch started LAUGHING!!! HYSTERICS!!!! The Babushka snatched back her hand.
Agnes was hooting, speaking in tongues!!! "JIGIJIILIIILALALAAALALA!" warbled the crazed nun.
Svetlana stood open-mouthed in astonishment. The nun ran for the edge of the building and stood on her tippy toes over the great canyon of Watershed Heights.
As the dumb bitch raised her arms again, a twinkling yellow light shot down from the sky, entered her head, and lit up her entire body, like the neon signs back at Dina's Diner.
28 fuckin hours.
Then the nun fell and died.

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