Saturday Night Movie

She kissed her daughter and husband on the forehead leaving lip marks from her cherry red lipstick. She stood up, wiped the blood off her hands, and went to finish off daddy. With knife in hand she opened the closet door where daddy lay all tied up. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out of the closet, like someone might pull a book from the bottom of a big pile, so hard that when he hit the wall on the other side it cracked. She drug him into the living room were her daughter and husband lay dead each with thirteen new holes in their bodies. She pushed daddy on to the clean white couch and brought her wrinkle free, blue eyed, slender nosed face close to his. She raised the knife above her head and a wicked smile crossed her face.

Patti Miller, a 375 lbs smoker, sat on her old puke green sofa and watched this unfold on the video she had rented earlier that day. The coach Patti sat on was so beat up and overused that all the padding had been ripped out of the arm rest, the back left leg was broken off, and almost every spring in the three cushions were broken. Patti's husband, now dead for three years, brought it into the trailer home 21 years ago. With just over an hour to go in the movie Patti paused it and went to the bathroom. Patti stopped short of the toilet to take a look at her self in the mirror. Patti's face was still a little messed up from the car accident. She had a big bruise on her left cheek were it hit the drivers side door. She removed the gauze patch from her right eye to rub on the ointment. Her eyelids, which were sewed shut, twitched when she touched them with the cold gel. The eye had to be removed because glass from the shattered windshield punctured it, like a toothpick in a gra! pe. She also had stitches on the right side of her neck where a tube was inserted to assist her breathing in the hospital. She finished up the ointment, returned the patch, washed her hands, and moved on to the kitchen. With just over an hour left in the movie Patti started up a bag of popcorn, grabbed another beer, and sat back down on her three legged couch. As she popped open the can of beer, the last in a twelve pack she bought earlier that day, she also grabbed the remote and re-started the movie.

She brought the knife down into daddy 13 times, each time grunting like she was trying to pull a book from the bottom of a big pile. When she took the knife out the last time she wiped the sweat off her brow and replaced with smeared blood. She got up off daddy and pulled him off the couch by his gray hair. She laid him next to her husband. She crossed daddy's arms across his chest, like a mortician would do, and kissed him on the forehead leaving behind lip prints from her cherry red lipstick. She didn't bother to clean up the couch but she did wash her hands. As she walked to one of the downstairs bathrooms she passed the den in which earlier she had thrown her son into all tied up. Before washing her hands she used the toilet were three days ago she flushed down all her anti-depressant pills. As she was washing her hands she looked at her self in the mirror. She noticed the blood smear but did not bother to clean it. She did, however, clean four parallel scratches on her l! eft cheek where her daughter got her with the fork during the battle in the kitchen. After carefully patting dry the scratches she re-applied her cherry red lipstick and started off toward the den.

. popcorn was done so Patti again paused the movie and headed toward the kitchen. She got a bowl out of the cupboard and opened the microwave. As she opened the bag steam came bellowing out burning her right hand and her face. She immediately dropped the bag to the dirty linoleum floor, spilling half the bag, and ran to the sink. With her hand under the running cold water Patti turned on the sink side light and opened the window shade to look out. Her thoughts went back to her childhood. She opened the door to the cellar and a cool air rushed out, blew her back, and gave her a shiver. Patti, who had earlier, while trying to make breakfast, had spilled the gallon of milk and dropped the carton of eggs, was about to spend the night in this cellar like so many others. She walked down the steps into the darkness below. She looked back up and she saw a silhouette of her mother in the light above. Patti's mother threw down an apple and Patti went looking for it whi! le she still had light. She got another rush of air as her mother closed and locked the cellar doors behind her. Patti shook off this memory and turned off the water. She dried her hand, picked up the half empty bag of popcorn, and decided to let the rest go until later. She let the bowl lay on the cluttered table and went to the living room. She settled her self on the dilapidated sofa and pushed play.

She unlocked the door to the den and when she pushed it open she saw her son trying to untie his ropes. He tried to stand up put tripped and hit his head on the desk knocking him unconscious. She walked over to her son and he stuck out his feet and tripped her. She fell into the floor lamp knocking it over. The lamp crashed threw the window and fell out side and out of sight. She stood up enraged, grabbed her son by the hair, and pulled him to his feet. He let his weight fall forward on to her. She fell over and broke the family picture sending shards of glass to the carpeted floor. She kicked her son and he fell back to the floor. She pulled the knife out of her pants and once again pulled her son up by his hair. She stuck the knife in his lower back and as he arched forward she let him fall to the floor. She sat across his mid section and completed the task at hand. When all was finished she kissed his forehead leaving behind lip prints from her cherry red lipstick. She sto! od up, looked down at her son, and again that wicked smile crossed her face.

Patti forgot to put salt on her popcorn so she paused the movie and headed for the kitchen once again. She opened the fake wood grained painted metal cupboards and looked for the salt shaker. When she was unable to find the shaker in the cupboard she looked on the table and found it behind an unopened bag of tortilla chips. Patti coughed and walked back to the living room with the salt shaker in hand. She sat on the couch and almost fell backwards. She salted the popcorn to her liking and pushed play for the last time.

She grabbed her dead son by the arm pits and dragged him into the living room. She planted him next to the rest of the family. When he was settled next to his grandfather she crossed his arms across his chest. She sat down on her knife-holed bloody white couch to take a break. After sitting for a couple seconds she opened the near by end table drawer and extracted a pistol.

Patti took a sip of beer and immediately followed with a handful of popcorn. She chewed and before she was able to swallow she was already shoving in another handful. She coughed again and this time did not get her breath back. She gasped, nothing. She hit her chest, nothing. She stood up and dropped the bag of popcorn.

She checked the camber and it was full. She got up off the couch and placed herself next to her son.

Patti tried to cough but nothing came out of her closed up esophagus.

She said a prayer to God for forgiveness and understanding.

Patti got weak in the knees and fell backwards onto the couch tipping it over.

She sighed a deep sigh of relief.

Patti cried out a hardly hearable scream as her head hit the floor and cracked open.

She cocked the gun.

Blood stained the brown floor.

She put the gun to her head.

Patti again let out a barely perceptible scream and fell dead.

She pulled the trigger.