Cumbersome Ways to Kill a Step-Mum

Title based freely on this poem by Edwin Brock.

And then, there’s this particular fantasy where she’s driving her expensive pathetic little new car and I just pull over in a green Jaguar and when I’m right next to her on the road I put the window down and I stare. I stare straight into her little ice blue eyes. Miniature igloos. Only Eskimo's from Lilliput allowed. And then I pull my gun. I give her just enough time to grasp the fact that I’m about to shoot her. A matter of seconds. Then I lift the gun, aim straight at her head and shoot. Right between the eyes. No time to crawl under the seat, no time to scream. I pull the fucking trigger and shoot her right between the eyes. Except it’s not a real bullet. It’s more like a pistol that injects this magic potion that paralyzes her venomous tongue for life. Mute, dumb, forever. No chance of pouring her sad little bullshit into the world. Silence, sheer silence. And after I shoot she senses the trickle of blood falling down her forehead from the hole and puts a hand to her face and sees the red liquid on the tips of her fingers and turns her fake peroxided blond mane to me and gasps. Except she cannot scream. She’s mute. And I laugh (I drop my head backwards when I do it and it's loud, echoes endlessly) and step on the gas and drive away in my Jag.
And then there’s the variation to this one. In the other version I’m dressed like Daryl Hannah in Kill Bill (black pirate patch and everything, the works!) and I just slash her head off with my Hatori sword. But there's no blood or anything here. It's a clean cut and doesn't kill her, just casts a curse where she'll wander the planet carrying her severed head in her Gucci handbag. And then again I step on the gas of my green Jag, of course, and speed off. Also in this one I'm wearing the Monolo shoes I'll never own. It’s a fucking murder fantasy; just deserves some glam!