I decided to end it all. My writing career had stagnated. There was nothing to live for. Guns were too violent, pills too unpredictable, a knife too messy. Getting hit by a bus would traumatize innocents. Smothering myself with a pillow took more willpower than I had.
Then I saw a tiny cactus in the window of a flower shop that moaned 'take me.' I did just that, got it home, stripped naked and proceded to begin puncturing myself all over, creating small rivulets of blood. This is how I'd bleed out tragically. This was one sticky obscure cactus and that mixed stickiness with the blood.
Unfortunately I'd forgotten this was the maid's day to clean. Mavis had her own key, came in, put on the light and stared at me sprawled on my recliner, bleeding and sticky.
"Mister, for a writer you can't even jerk off right. Now I have to clean this mess up. Gonna cost you extra. Move your damn leg. Nothing I ain't seen before and seen bigger."
I perked up. There was a one act play here and I'd better jump on it before the muse leaves me.
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