Chapter 8

                                    

                                              
  Absolutely not! I rip the pages from the typewriter. This is all-all... Just stupid! Slamming my hands down, I stomp away from my desk, pushing my chair back as a result.
                          
  How does one write such events without being there to experience it, or at least get first hand knowledge of it? 
                          
I brushed a hand over my eyes. I need sleep, but sleep is for the weak. Chuckling weakly to myself, I yawned walking back over to my desk fixing my fingers over the keys.................blah blah blah write write write words words words book chapter here (insert paycheck here) 
                          
   Sadly this was the best I had written all week. I couldn't stop thinking about them. The murderous monstrosities that lived across the street from me. Every fiber of my being wanted to rip them apart. To make them suffer what I suffered. But unfortunately there were other problems I had to tackle first. The basics for any story. Where, when, who, and how.
                          
     For the where I was thinking somewhere private. I couldn't go off in public killing people. That's how you get caught. The police would have me shot in a matter of minutes. I couldn't have that. The point of this was to make them pay, not me. I was going to have to do this at home. The basement was a good place to start. Well except for the fact that I hadn't be in there since I had moved in. It was going to need some remodeling. Now that problem was solved it was on to the when, who, and how.
                          
  As for the when, I guess I could as soon as possible really. Just have to find the right opportunities and the perfect methods. The who has already been determined, the order just hasn't been written in stone. The how? Well that's the fun part. I love to see others in pain, unless it's my dear Sage. 
                          
  Guilt races over me, but I quickly shake it off in fear that I'd lose my great ideas. Quickly typing up what I have to far I sit in thought. How to hurt those effectively when they have hurt you? Especially when you plan to get rid of them permanently?
                          
  I know exactly how to hurt those boys! Pushing myself back from the desk once more, I grab my slippers and a jacket before racing downstairs towards the basement. It gets chilly down there. Skidding to a stop in front of the basement door, I remembered how dark it is down there. I channel the spirit of Mr. Meowgi.
                          
    Marshall Underwood went through the same general routine everyday. First thing in the morning he traveled to his morning classes. Which he was surprisingly wide awake for considering he was up party the whole night before. He returns from Clinton's Corner Store down the street about mid afternoon with beer and snack galore. Sometimes there's drugs if he's feeling spontaneous. Which is almost always. After two weeks of trailing him however, I realized that it was actual the day that he didn't have school that I needed to pay attention to.
                          
   On those days Mr. Underwood was everywhere. In the morning he spent time with his lovely girlfriend. Who seemed to be incredibly sweet. He visited his childhood home where he would get into a fight with his father and leave in a fuss. Afterwards he would go to the bar where after a few drinks he would flirt with every girl in sight. This would be the perfect time to strike. Everyone's always so inebriated they wouldn't notice if I just left with him, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't notice either.  
                          
   I spent the next few days preparing the basement for his arrival.  It was covered head to toe in thin plastic tarps. So that I could remove them for cleaning later if needed. I also painted the room in bright childish colors, so if anyone asked it simply seem that I was building a children's playroom for my future children. Or well, that's what I told Levi at least. To make my lies convincing, I in short told him that I wanted the house to be ready for when I asked Sage to move in with me. He seemed to believe it, he even agreed to come over and help me paint. Which he was actually doing now. I had gotten so lost in my own world I must have forgotten he was here.