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Getting Rid of Mrs. Fetter


Creeping On You
Getting Rid of Mrs.Fetter

Several months back, I never would have fathomed old Mrs. Fetter sitting here eating dinner with me. Her plump little bottom barely supported by my small and wooden kitchen chair. Crumbs were rolling down her front as she spoke and chewed at the same time. Her little dog, aptly named Fluffy, was sitting on her lap, catching the crumbs as they fell. The stupid dog was yipping like a fool, but I stayed calm. After tonight, I wouldn't have to worry about either of them anymore.

"I'm so glad you finally got a proper welcome mat for your door, Johnny" she said, her words slightly muffled by the turkey she was chewing "Isn’t it nice to be above all that riffraff? It only took two years, but aren’t you glad you finally started seeing things my way? It’s a much better way of life you know”

She’d been babbling on and gossiping about the other tenants for almost half an hour now. Just like every Tuesday night for the last several months. I would go as far to say that sitting here listening to her babble was worse torture than putting up with her high class bullshit for the last two years. It had to be done though, in the end the suffering would be worth it. Establishing the routine of eating dinner with her once a week was all part of the plan. Appeasing to her petty demands and complaints was all part of the plan.

Only a small morsel of food remained on her plate and she greedily shoved it into her mouth. For a moment she grew silent, and I grabbed my chance to get a word in edgewise.

“Greta, I’ve been dabbling a little with writing some short pieces of poetry. I was wondering if you’d let me recite some to you?” I asked.

“Been wasting your time writing poetry, have you? Explains the state of your living room I suppose.” She sniped back “Oh I suppose I can listen to a few poems before I go.”

I led her into the living room where I had everything set up just right. There was a nice recliner sofa chair in the corner, with a dim lamp and a ticking alarm clock on a small table beside it.

“Just recline back Greta, and I’ll go grab my notebook” I said as I walked out of the room into the hall. I grabbed a stack of papers from the desk that had random writings on them. Only one of them was something that I had written. The rest were merely poems I had printed from my computer. A thin textbook sat on the corner of the desk, and I picked it up and opened it to a bookmark I had placed in it. I just needed to triple check that I had remembered what to do. If I made any mistakes, I would be caught.

After reassuring myself that I knew what I was doing, I went back into the living room, and sat down on my couch. Mrs. Fetter had actually dozed off while I was gone. This was perfect, I thought to myself, she’ll be easy to put under. I nudged her awake. She startled awake and then looked at me and remembered where she was.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry Johnny, you’re chair is so comfortable and that turkey has made me drowsy. It’s not proper to put your neighbours to sleep Johnny, you know that right?” She complained

“I know Mrs. Fetter, I’m sorry. Just relax and take some breaths now. I’m going to start reading. For the best effect, try to concentrate on the ticking clock while I read. I find that with this poem especially, it helps you get right into it.” I replied as I began to read my poem

“Ticking time, tick tick tiiiick, down down downnnn. Deeper down. The clock clicks and ticks as time winds down, deeper, dowwwwwnnnnn” I read aloud, watching as Mrs. Fetter listened to my words and the clock. Her breathing was slower and her eyes were heavier. I continued reading “Deeper down, heavy lids. Falling Under, down downnn dowwwnnnn. Deeeperrrr, Doowwwwwwwnnnnn”

I started reading slower and slower, repeating the main phrase of the poem “Deeper, Down, Deeper, Down”. Soon her eyelids shut and her breathing was as shallow as can be. I stopped repeating the phrase, and said “Greta, do you hear me?”

“Yes Johnny, I hear you” she replied in a flat voice.
“That’s good Greta. What’s my real name Greta?” I asked, knowing that if she answered correctly, she was truly under my spell.
“It’s Jerry, Jerry Livingstone” She replied

“Perfect!” I said out loud. My work could now begin.
An hour later found me showing Mrs. Fetter out the door. “I’m so sorry I went to sleep Jerry, I really don’t feel bad since it’s your fault for serving turkey, but still, I’m sorry.” She said on her way out. “I’ll have to come by and read them some other time.”

“I’m sure you will Mrs. Fetter, have a good night!” I said as I shut the door. I smiled to myself and crossed my fingers. I won’t know until the morning if my plan worked. I was like a kid on Christmas night. I went straight to bed, knowing that the sooner I went to sleep, the sooner I could wake up and know whether or not my plan worked. I set my alarm for the morning and crawled into bed. I don’t even remember turning off the light, and then I was fast asleep.

I awoke the next morning to my alarm buzzing. With my normal level of annoyance, I pushed the clock off the nightstand and the buzzing stopped. I dragged myself out of bed, and staggered to the washroom, to wash the sleep out of my eyes. As I looked in the mirror and groaned about yet another work day, my excitement about last night’s events clicked back into place. I was suddenly very eager to head off to work. I shoved a breakfast of cornflakes with milk down my throat and threw on some pants and a shirt. I think it was the fastest I ever got ready for work. After I finished dressing and combing my hair, I grabbed my briefcase and headed out to door to the hallway. I walked down to the elevators and got on. I hit the button for the main floor, and waited for the slight drop before going down steadily. As I whooshed past the floors in the steel box, I fidgeted with excitement. The elevator stopped and I stepped out and my heart leapt. There were paramedics and policemen making their way out the door. Outside on the street were an ambulance and a cop car. I walked over to the security guard and asked him what happened.

“Morning Jerry, tis a shame actually.” The old guard replied “ Old Mrs. Fetter kicked the bucket last night. Can’t say I’m that sorry to see her go, but at least no one’s going to jail for this one. She committed suicide they say. Drowned her poor little dog in the toilet and then she just laid face down in her tub and she drowned. The cops suspect murder, but I overheard that they haven’t found any evidence of anyone else ever being in her apartment. Tis strange you know. Someone going out that way. I wonder what could compel a person to do that to themselves. “

I quickly thanked him for the info and turned away. I had to; otherwise my huge grin at the thought of her dead would have possibly given me away. I had done it; I had successfully gotten away with murdering her. I was smiling as I exited the lobby of the building and entered the street. I wasn’t just smiling because Mrs. Fetter had died. I was also smiling because I now had an effective way to rid my life of those I don’t align with, and I had the perfect target in mind. The days could only get better from here.

The End