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Kill Darlene

September 11, 2014

The tea and toast were stone-cold, but I didn’t notice. How could I, when they were there? I stared at my relatives. There are certain disadvantages in being the only female in a Family of Immortal Assassins and Tricksters who all possess wicked senses of humor and low thresholds of tolerance for boredom. “Well speak up!” I demanded. My nephews cringed beneath my fierce glare. “Just which one of you thought it would be fun to play Let’s Kill Darlene” this time?” My cousins shuffled their feet nervously. My brothers coughed uneasily. My uncles stared at the floor. “I’ve put up with a lot of annoyances over the years. I have been shot, hung, strangled, smothered, drowned, bludgeoned, incinerated, electrocuted, exploded, crushed, buried, exsanguinated, trampled, decapitated, and even defenestrated. But this is the final straw! Poisoning my tea! You all know that cyanide ruins the taste!” I raged at them.

In response to Writing Challenge: Kill Your Darlings
In this multi-day writing and editing challenge, we’re putting your red pen to the test. Each day, 10% of your post gets the axe.

Originally this post was 305 words long, I’ve edited it down to a lean, mean 150.

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