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John's mum (standard:drama, 0 words)
Author: OlygsAdded: Jul 02 2001Views/Reads: 2212/1Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Im not going to spoil the story for you!

Johnís mum was about five foot eight. She had short black hair, and
spent her spare afternoons playing tennis with the other mums. She used 
to help the school at major events to organise flower displays. She 
went shopping on a weekly basis at Sainsburyís where she bought three 
loaves of bread, two packets of Andrex, a bag of dog food, a copy of 
ĎGood Housekeepingí and a selection of food depending on the menu of 
the week. She got the milk delivered. She was quite rich, but not that 
well off. She was quite happy, but not that content. 

She was a pretty ordinary mum. 

However, there was one thing different with Johnís mum Ė and this was
Johnís friend. He would sit outside the school gates every morning 
waiting for her to arrive. He had several pictures of her stuck up on 
the inside of his cupboard at school. He studied her lifestyle. He knew 
when she got up, when she went to bed, what colour underwear she wore, 
who was her favourite actor. 

Johnís friend was a nice enough bloke. He was eighteen like John and
they used to go out to the park together to play football, go out to 
the pub together on Saturday nights, and revise together for their 
A-levels. Everybody knew about the friendís strange fascination with 
Johnís mother. Some thought it strange that John was still friends with 
him. Others didnít really care. I didnít. 

Then one day I was walking through the park, and saw Johnís friend. I
walked over to say hi. Itís not like weíre great friends or anything, 
just thought as we go to the same school and everything it would only 
be polite. Then I saw Johns mum. I saw that he was walking towards her 
and she was walking towards him as well. I thought for a second they 
were going to meet each other, talk or something, but they just kept 
walking past each other. Didnít even look like they noticed. I was just 
about to go away, think nothing more of it when the friend just wheeled 
right around behind her and began following her. Bloody hell. 

Well, up till then I hadnít realized just how sick this guy was. I mean,
she was about forty-two for godís sake. So I began following him. Dunno 
what I would do. I guessed Iíd wait till the mum had gone and then show 
him a piece of me. I knew a fair bit of Aikido and though I could 
probably drop the guy. Bastard. 

Well once we had reached the river they both just stopped.  Well, she
stopped, and he stopped behind her. It looked like he hadnít been seen. 

She then walked onto the bridge and looked over the side. It was
beginning to get dark and the novelty of the sicko was beginning to 
wear off. It was damn cold. I was just going to go back when the friend 
stuck his hand down his trousers. Damn him. I was really angry about 
this guy now. I strode over and was just about ten metres away when... 

Well, sugar the guy was standing there with this two foot long silenced
pistol shooting this poor womanís brains out and all I could do was 
crawl up into a ball behind a damn dust bin. About ten seconds later 
the guy had shoved this dead cow into the back of a nearby car and was 
driving off. 

I think youíll understand that I was pretty worried at that point. Itís
not everyday you watch some poor guys mum get her brains spilt over the 
road. All I could think was how damn messy it all was. I crawled over 
to the bridge and puked into the river. 

The next day I somehow found myself lying in bed with a terrible
hangover. Pretending that it was probably a bad dream I got dressed to 
go to school. 

When I got there school was pretty normal. Went to chapel, English,
French, short break, history, double chemi. Apart from it was like I 
didnít believe myself or I was too damn afraid or something. I was 
watching this murderer parade round the school and I just couldnít do 
anything. I just watched him and thought about saying something but 
couldnít. Then after lunch I saw something strange. We were out in the 
locker room when John pulled this plastic bag out of his cupboard and 
shoved it into his friendís hands. The friend looked pretty cool about 
it. In fact he looked like John hadnít even done anything. But John was 
really up tight. He was sweating all over the place, it really was 
rather disgusting, and he was shaking and his asthma seemed to have 
developed into some kind of spluttering, wheezing killer of a disease. 
Damn disgusting. 

I didnít do jack. It was like so surreal. I didnít have a clue. Fifteen
bloody years and I havenít done a thing. Its obvious what happened. 
After that John started going out every night, when we left school he 
lived in this huge house on the hill. I saw it going on the market for 
1.2 million. 1.2 million! Bloody obvious. Oh yeah, and before you ask 
the police did check it out and they found nothing. And what do you 
expect them to find when theyíre checking out a guy who buys a 1.2 
million house at the age of eighteen. So bloody corrupt. And why didnít 
I do jack? Dunno. Didnít see why I should? Too scared? Too confused? 
Dunno, but I didnít. 

Johnís friend has moved out of the country. Dunno why, but I think he
had some trouble with the police. Canít guess what. 


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