Lefty wrote a sickish story about killing your dinner
I loved his story
and so decided to write my version thereof

and here it is

Hilton was very excited because his new friend Jesse was coming over for dinner. He had just returned from the grocery store with supplies for the evening and was busy packing them out on the counter: potatoes, rice, peas, gravy and a leg of lamb to roast.

After getting the food started, he went to the dining room to prepare the table. Hilton was a meticulous man, everything had to be perfect. It took him half an hour, but it was worth every second, the table was perfect.

He dimmed the lights, lit the candles and waited. Jesse was going to be there any second now. From where he sat, he could see the road in front of his apartment. He watched in a relaxed way for Jesse’s car.

Hilton hurried back into the kitchen to check the food. Once there, he realised that the rice was boiling over. Quickly he grabbed the pot and took it off the plate. As he was busy, the bell rang. He looked up and out of the window. Jesse’s car was not in the street.

“I hope this is not some random visitor’” he thought, “not tonight”

Hilton opened the door and was surprised to see Jesse.

“Where did you park?” he asked.

“Round the back,” said Jesse. “It just seemed easier,” he explained.

The dining room took Jesse’s breath away. He had never seen such a beautifully layed out table. Scarlet place set accompanied by a napkin of the same shade on a snowy table cloth. Two long candles, throwing shadows around the room, in silver candle sticks. Silver cutlery, laid out neatly.

“Ahhh okay,” said Hilton hoping that perhaps Jesse had parked so that no one could see his arrival because he planned to stay the night. “Did you bring the wine, I could do with a glass?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Jesse as he lent forward and put his hand into the bag he was carrying.
Hilton’s eyes widened with surprise and disbelief as Jesse thrust the sharp stiletto into his throat. A bubble of blood oozed from around the knife’s handle. Jesse grabbed him as he fell and lay him on the floor, funnel and bucket already ready.

Later that evening, satiated by the roast meal he had eaten, Jesse sat on Hilton’s couch, a glass of ruby red liquid in his hand, and smiled.


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