Deadly Day Dream

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“Skinny Vanilla Latte’.”

“What size?” The barista patiently waited for me to reply.


“What is your name?”

My name? I thought for a moment.  I could give them my real name, or I could go with something a little more exotic then Samantha. Plus I don’t want my name tied to a possible blood bath.

“Lexus.” I smiled and walked away, waiting for that hot cup of pick me up.

I sat down and started to survey the room. I was to choose my next victim from this ses pool of people? I really wish I could go somewhere with more to pick from, it looks like a redneck convention was let out, but I cant be picky I have to stay as low key as possible I was almost caught last time.

There were a few tables with chairs that littered the corner of the coffee shop, a few lounge chairs and an oversized green couch that took up one wall.

The first person I noticed was an older man in a tie-dye shirt, he had one of those aussie style hats you know the ones with the string that goes under the chin, the corners were bent down. His old brown slip on sandals made me laugh. On his left wrist he wore a black leather watch, that’s when I noticed that shiny bit of silver on his ring finger. Blah, married.  I’ll pass.

Behind him and to the left was a heavyset woman; she had short 50 style bangs. She was one of those women who do not own a mirror.  She had blue fingernail polish dark rimmed glasses, and large disk hoop earrings. She wore a spaghetti strap white dingy shirt with no bra, which I am 100 percent sure she needed, she had a short flower skirt to match.  To top off her mess of a look she wore blue converse shoes. She was prime pick if it wasn’t for the sandwich she was shoving in her face, which would not have been bad but a bit of the cheese lingered on her lip which was not appealing to me at all. She reminded me of a pig eating slop.

I turned sideways in my seat and noticed two older women sipping on there cold iced tea. One mentioned something about a train in a book she had picked up. The woman on the right was sporting a purple shirt; she was rather large and had on these tight black shorts.  She wore white running shoes and her hair was a dirty blonde, her friend was dressed in a black shirt, she was large but not as large as the first, she had on what my grandma use to call pedal pusher jeans, black clog flip flops, her hair seemed to be more maintained then the other woman’s it was a dark brown with a hint of blonde and red streaks through it. One smack with a hammer to the back of the head, and her boring train story would be over. I think everyone in here would thank me.

Out of the corner of my eye, closer to the counter on the couch was a small child that looked to be watching a movie on her mothers laptop, she had dirty blonde hair was wearing a white shirt with cut off jean shorts and white runners. Her mother was sipping coffee and was pouring over a stack of books in front of her.  If I got pleasure out of killing children I would have to say she would be a prime target she was not being watched and the mom was oblivious to anyone around her.

Before I finished surveying the room she walked in.

She wore a long black dress that snuggly fit her body, black flip-flops, large black glasses that hid her brown eyes. Long bleach blonde hair that was dyed black underneath.  Her hips swayed as she made her way to the counter.  She was the one the one I wanted. The one I needed to carry out my plan, this dark part of me that screamed and clawed inside of me begging to be released.  My eyes followed her as she rounded the corner and made her way into the three-stalled bathroom.  I slowly got up and grabbed my bag hoping that no one was watching me as intently as I was watching them.