The building was dark. Windows were broken. The parking lot still had pockets of rain. He wanted to drive on the lot and get a closer look, but a police car was parked near the rear detached garage. Know-it-all, nosey bitches. Now what will they do? He repeated this several time in the quiet of his car, while wondering and hoping the fire got a couple of them.
All burnt to a crisp, everyone looks alike. The same with cats; how he hated cats. He had burnt a couple of them to a crisp in his time. Just the thought of that damn cat flying through the air and scratching him made him want to at least spit on a cat. The school ended his misery when the principal called to say they would call DFS if he came to school with any more fresh scratches. He got the last laugh when he set that cat on fire along with her three new kittens, then watched them burn to a crisp. She was clawing the air as she burned to death.
He listened to the morning news in hopes of needed encouragement. There was no news of a fire, so there must not have been any deaths. Just a fire, no news, because nosey bitches burned to a crisp would be the lead and repeated story. His White Castle coffee had gotten cold, so he dropped his butt into the cup and opened his car door and set the cup on the ground. Closely watching the building from a safe distance, he saw another police car pull up. They parked side by side and talked for a few minutes. The first car pulled away and headed in the direction of the Normandy police station. He pulled off, too, and followed behind the police car. When the car turned into the station lot, he continued up Natural Bridge until he reached the little street. Such a neat, well cared for street for such a nosey old bitch, he thought, as he passed Ms Moo Moo’s house with the yellow police tape across the door. He smiled as he remembered how she ran out of answers a couple of days ago.
A door opened across the street and an elderly woman stepped onto her porch, as his car left Ms Moody’s driveway and moved away at a leisurely pace.
YOU ARE READING
A Sister's Place
RomanceThe phones ring day and night. Desperate women calling seeking shelter after incidents of domestic violence and/or sexual assault. It is the responsibility of founder and director, Irene Jefferson, to keep the doors open. Recently injured and in nee...
