?Running With Scissors ?

?c h a p t e r 01?

Michael gives me a mischievous look and walked out the door, leaving it wide open and my lights on. If this is his version of payback for me throwing my vibrator at him, he must not know me that well. I throw my blanket over my head in defiance because I'm not going to get up no matter how many lights are on. Somehow, despite the interruption, I find myself drifting back to sleep.

That's when the fire alarm goes off and I know, I just freaking know Michael is trying to cook again.

"Uuuuuugh! MICHAEL! I'm going to kill you!"

When he doesn't answer, I pull my uncooperative body out of bed. He's going to die a painful death- a death so bad that it will go down in history for being the worst way to die. I throw on an oversized shirt that I coincidentally stole from him and head out ready for war.

I'm going to strangle him... or maybe stab him.

No, no. That's too easy. I'm going to tie him down and use a cheese grater to...

What the heck?

As I round the corner to the living room, a cloud of black smoke slaps me in the face. I use my hands to weave my way through. It isn't as bad as the smell though.

"Michael, what in the world did you do?" He just pressed the alarm off when I walk in.

"I made you eggs." He smiles way too happy for this early in the morning and my urge to kill him gets stronger.

I eyed the black mass laying in the bowl on the counter. If he hadn't told me what it was, I probably would assume it's some kind of burnt leather. Probably tastes just as good.

"It looks like you cremated them."

His stupid eyes give me a hopeful look as he hands me a fork. All I have to do is kill him and shove his body in the closet... just a little stab and I won't have to eat the burnt remains.

Knowing my murderous ways that double before 10 am, Michael takes a preempted step back and smiles at me.

Looking between him and the bowl, I sigh and take a cautious bite. It crunches like a chip and tastes like the bottom of a shoe but I swallow anyways as a sign of how far I'd let our friendship take my morals. Yes, morals because it is completely wrong to eat something like that.

He chuckles at my expression and I'm tempted to throw my bow at him. He grabs a dishtowel and starts to fan the smoke around- reminding me it's there.

All I need is a knife and then I can-

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" My eyes move from the sharp end of my fork to his hands where a steaming cup is waiting for me. I put my hands out and cradle the cup as if it were the key to life- which it is.

He grins at me like the idiot he is when I take my first sip and sigh. "Done killing me in your head?"

He knows.

Of course, he knows. After five years of death threats and growling at him anytime I'm woken up will give one insight. Not wanting to disappoint, I grumble incoherent words and continue to sip the hot liquid of the Gods. He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I slant my eyes at him.

"Why are you still here burning my groceries?"

"I figured you didn't want to be late for work." He helps himself to a cup of coffee- black coffee like a serial murderer.

"What are you talking about? I have," I look up at the wall clock. Thirty Minutes!! "Holy crap!"

I jump up from the bar and hightail it to my bedroom, grabbing the nearest top and a skirt that matches and tossing them in a bag. Since It's impossible to wear a skirt while on a bike- a lesson I learned the hard way- I pull on some skinny jeans and boots for the ride. I'd have to finish getting dressed at work like most days. Before I run out, I glance in the mirror and cringe at my bed hair. There's no way I'll have time to fix it so I pick one of my many wigs and put it inside the bag.