David Knight sat at the kitchen table, gobbling his breakfast and washing it down with orange juice. He folded open the newspaper and viewed the front page, not exactly feeling agog. It was just another newspaper. He conjectured that the front page would probably be infested with murder, rape, or both. He didn’t so much as budge when he saw the bold-lettered heading: “SERIAL RAPIST RELEASED”.

There was a vague photo below it, with text forming an L around the left side of it. The photo was of a man of roughly 30 to 40, with spiky gelled hair and potent sideburns that stopped just below his earlobes. He had thick eyebrows and his eyes, David noticed, appeared to be deep set, even on this ragged photograph. Just below the corners of both eyes wear tattooed tears.

“No better way to start a Saturday morning,” David muttered through a mouthful of Marmite-smeared toast.

David skimmed through the article unenthusiastically. The man had spent the bulk of his life incarcerated. He was released two weeks ago. Apparently his sentence was lessened because he pleaded temporary insanity. The first thing he did, subsequent to his release, was go to church and atone for his sins. In the article they state that Tim Pratt, murderer of two innocent teenage girls, has become a very religious man. Mr. Pratt stated that he still lives with the ghosts of his past, but is turning to a righteous life now.

David snorted laughter at this (regurgitating some of his toast while at it). He swallowed again, only this time it tasted foul and his eyes became watery.

His previous perpetration, 17 years ago, was raping 16-year old Molly Glute and eventually stabbing her 13 times in the throat.

“Insanity would be an understatement,” David murmured. He pondered how they could possibly let a man like that walk.

Myra appeared in the kitchen and joined her husband. She scrounged his remaining piece of toast and propped it into her mouth. He reached for her arm but she eluded his grasp gracefully, and cackled. David got up and placed his plate in the sink. “Tell Alexy to skim through this,” he said. He tapped his finger on the front page of the newspaper. “Some savage rapist seems to be on the prowl…”

“Mmm?”

“Oh, and he is a religious man,” David added skeptically. “Now he’ll probably come knocking on our doors for money.”

Myra glanced at the newspaper wistfully, then, as if discarding the morbid thought instantly, looked up at David with a smile. “Will do, honey. Don’t forget about tonight!” She pecked him on the cheek and hugged him tight.

David grinned and rubbed his new red tattoo of lips off of his cheeks. “See you at seven.” David picked up his briefcase and was gone.

Myra took David’s vacated seat with a bowl of Rice Krispies. She pushed the newspaper aside exasperatedly, avoiding eye contact. However informative, she loathed newspapers; the world was what you wanted it to be, and a newspaper was just that bit of superfluous reassurance that it wasn’t the sunny and jolly place you perceived it to be. Myra found newspapers disquieting and pessimistic. Why did it have to be overarched with negativity? Couldn’t they write about the good stuff? Naivety was the key to bliss.

That just wouldn’t sell, would it? an objective voice in her head stated. It was true.

Baby-sitting on a Saturday night. Baby-sitting on a frickin' Saturday night. The bland prospect peeved Alexis Knight, who had been looking forward to seeing Jimmy that night at the club. This would indubitably turn out to be the most uneventful Saturday night of my life, 17-year old Alexis thought grimly, and pulled the sheet over her face, as if to repel the day. But it was good friends of her mother's (Mr. And Mrs. Heart), and docile little Alexis hardly objected. She peeked at her bedside alarm from underneath the sheets: 10:51AM it read in gleaming red numbers. She had completely forgotten to inform Jimmy of her obligations. Reluctantly she groped for her cell-phone on the bedside table, and her thumbs started tapping at the keypad.

“ hey jim. Got 2 go baby-sit tonight! Sry but we’ll make it sum othr time. Mbe you can swing by 2night if u feel like it.”

She added the address of the Heart residence, and hit sent. Knowing Jimmy, she would probably not see him tonight. Jimmy was a vivacious rugby jock, envy of the entire high school. His comeliness made many a girl’s knees go floppy. Being confined to some family house with a little kid was, as he would say, just not his “scene”. She had simply not done enough to earn one-on-one time with Jimmy. He wasn’t really seeing her yet; she intended to accomplish that tonight: to make him see her. She had a panging premonition that Jimbo would hook up with someone else tonight. He wasn’t the patient type. She let out an audible sigh and buried her face in the pillow.

After another hour of dozing, Alexis decided to end her marathon slumber. Instinctively her hand started groping for her cell-phone again. She cocked her head toward her still-empty hand. Her peering eyes came to rest on her circular alarm clock, on which the cell-phone was teetering precariously. She stared at the seesawing phone with faint incredulity, as much incredulity as her grogginess would permit. How could she possibly have managed to balance the phone on there in her drowsy trance earlier? She let out a hoarse giggle, her vocal cords out of tune from the slumber. She flipped open her phone and gazed at the desktop. The top left of the screen only revealed the battery bar (half full) and signal strength (three ascending bars). Nonetheless, she navigated to her Inbox which, as she suspected, was empty. Jimmy was probably playing rugby, she surmised. She flipped her cell-phone shut and, just for good measure, balanced it on the circular alarm clock again. She gaped at the cell-phone, teetering to and fro like a canoe on gentle ripples. Eventually it came to a balanced halt, and Alexis decided to put her frivolous morning activities aside. She briefly pondered whether she would be having breakfast or lunch. She glanced at the alarm clock and it was on the wrong side of noon. That was some sleep, Alexis concluded. She rolled out of bed and staggered to the kitchen.

“Finally!” her mother exclaimed with just enough lightheartedness. “I see you have risen from your hibernation. I was about to call the Hearts and tell them that you’ve overslept!”

Alexis managed a weak smile. That would be wonderful, she thought guiltily.

“When mu-“ Alexis yawned profusely. “When must I go over there, mom?”

“A touch before six. We will be meeting them for supper at 6:30, daddy is coming at 7:00.”

Alexis nodded. The corner of her mouth contorted inwards, forming a dimpled wry smile, as if to express indifference… or a “bummer”.

Myra noticed her apathy, which she did not mistake for post-sleep lethargy. “Something bugging ya, pretty lady?”

“I was supposed to see Jimmy tonight,” she moaned.

Myra’s lips drew back in disgust, like some high royalty that just walked into a grimy lower-class restaurant. Her condemnation of Jimmy was no secret. Myra eased her reproachful contortion; she knew what it was like to be infatuated. She understood, but she did not condone. She stated the obvious, “Honey, we already agreed to this a week ago.”

Alexis shrugged and turned around to face the window. Dim light found her eyes and she squinted. She stooped over the kitchen counter and pulled open the curtains. She blinked rapidly in an effort to adjust her eyes. It was a silvery day outside; the sky was painted white with blotches of deep gray. The congruousness of the bleak weather induced another audible sigh from Alexis; stupid uneventful Saturday.

“There are some supplies in the refrigerator,” Myra said. “I’m heading into town, then stopping by at gran’s. I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Okay, ma. Have fun,” Alexis said without turning.

Myra headed for the doorway and paused. She felt a strange inkling that she had neglected to say something, something important.

“Ma?” Alexis muttered.

Myra had a slightly baffled expression, but nothing serious. She shook her head and went on walking.

Alexis stared her mother down with a frown. Then she eyed the newspaper on the kitchen table; rain was forecasted right throughout the weekend. It was just as well, since Alexis had planned to wear her new (short) skirt tonight. But with this weather she would have gotten frostbite. She would have worn the provocative skirt under her jeans – her mother did not approve of revealing clothing – then slip out of it as soon as she reached the club. She decided she could do it anyways, just in case Jimmy decided to stop by the Heart residence.

The inside of a house would be much more cosy than a club.

She heard the muffled “ting-ting ting-ting” of her cell-phone back in her room. It injected a tinge of vigor into her dreary disposition. Jimmy! Back in her room, her vibrating phone made a strange clitter against the alarm clock. Instantly it slid off the circular surface and plummeted down, knocking the side of the bedside table on the way. Alexis darted into her room and scooped it up. She flipped open her bruised phone; a diagonal crack, almost looking like a bolt of lightning, ran down the screen. To Alexis’ surprise she was still able to navigate to her text – it was Jimmy. The phone’s small screen was mottled with weird patches of violet and black, obscuring the message partially. She tried to decipher as much as she could, but in the end all that she could decipher was a nine, or was it an eight? And something about him going to the club first. She felt a wave of excitement wash through her. He was coming tonight! She abruptly assumed that it was an eight, after all. She extracted her SIM card and disposed of the phone. So much for my early morning frivolity, she thought.

The rest of the day became an interminable wait for her meeting with Jimmy. As her traitorous little alarm clock struck 5:00, Alexis started dressing and painting and embellishing and whatnot. Suddenly this Saturday night seemed more eventful than she initially thought. If she could get little Brian to sleep early, she and Jimmy may just have some alone time. The mere thought exhilarated her. After 45 minutes, Alexis was flaunting in front of the mirror. She wasn’t puffed up with vanity like the other girls but, she had to admit to herself, she looked ravishing. She was wearing her short skirt underneath her tights jeans, a pink sweater and a cardigan, still leaving enough space for her full cleavage to be exposed. Her lips were painted scarlet and her black hair was tied back into a ponytail. She bloated at her aesthetic outer, then vacated the house. The Heart residence was a mere 5-minute walk away. Alexis gazed at the celestial gloom above. The earth was domed with dense gray clouds, dark gray clouds. Lightning hissed and darted through the ominous clouds, glaring brilliant blue. Soon these clouds would be squirting rain. Not just rain, torrents. She quickened her walk in hopes to miss the impending storm that was rumbling above.

She reached the Heart residence, still dry, and was let in immediately. Mrs. Heart welcomed her with a smile and thanked her for the favour. Thank YOU, Alexis had thought slyly but guiltily. Mrs. Heart went on and played out the cliché of explaining that Brian liked this and he disliked that and what his favourite toy was and that she could watch TV and all that. To Alexis’ utter exultation, Mrs. Heart also mentioned that Brian wasn’t one for late nights. Her luck had turned suddenly and substantially. She greeted the Hearts and walked into the living room, satisfied. Brian was splayed out on the couch, watching cartoons.

“Heya, little buddy.”

“Hullo!” Brian yowled.

Alexis grinned, then turned toward the TV. “What are you watching?”

“Tom and Jerry,” Brian said, returning his gaze into the television. He let out a shrill chuckle as Tom yet again eluded Jerry’s exaggerated attempt at capturing him.

Alexis always thought that beneath the amusing cat and mouse game, the cartoon was rather brutal. Jerry chased poor little Tom with the intention to eat him alive. Did kids know that? Alexis slumped onto the couch, and watched the malicious Jerry hurtling after Tom. She decided that she would call Stacy and tell her all about her and Jimmy’s meeting. Soon she learned that the house phone needed an activation code before it could be used. Little Brian did not know this code. And her cell-phone, well, her cell-phone was not a cell-phone anymore. She silently scolded herself for her stupid balancing trick that morning. She couldn’t contact anyone. But, at this point in time, the thought was more annoying than alarming to Alexis. She retreated to the couch to continue watching Tom and Jerry. Poor Tom. Poor old Tom.

Time passed and the already gloomy day turned to dusk, and dusk turned to night. Outside lightning grumbled angrily, and it was just then that the menacing clouds erupted. Torrential rain plunged down like a sheet. Cape Town was soon a soaked and a wet affair. Lightning started lashing, but luckily it was far away. Alexis was always frightened when lightning came too close. That deafening, roaring sound it made. The clock read 7:57, and she had just put little bloodshot-eyed Brian to bed. The timing was a thing of perfection. And then it happened.

She was slightly startled by the resounding doorbell, which was followed by a loud smack of lightning. But her surprise turned to excitement and, after slipping out of her jeans and cardigan, she scurried to the door. Must be Jimmy!

She opened the door and saw a bleary figure, hooded. A mere silhouette. The rain thumped down and lightning cackled. A storm was raging.

“Come inside!” she exclaimed. “You must be freezing.” She ushered Jimmy inside, swung the door shut, and locked it. She looked at Jimmy excitedly. The culmination of her Saturday was standing right in front of her. That Saturday that looked so bleak and uninviting this morning. That weekend-spoiling Saturday.

This may well turn out to be the best Saturday of my life, Alexis thought.

Alexis’ body practically trembled with excitement and lust and infatuation. She could hardly contain her bliss.

She pushed Jimmy’s hood off and inspected his face. She saw the face now, clearly illuminated by the ceiling light.

The first thing she noticed were tears.

But these weren’t real tears.

These were tattooed tears.

Back in the living room, the 24-hour Tom and Jerry special was still running.

Jerry had Tom cornered.