Weird Flash Fiction

Birthday Party

Lacy would like to have a birthday party. She's turning 30, after all, and that's a big deal. It should be celebrated. With other humans.

She prepares for the party with an unreasonable amount of soda, ice cream, and sandwich fixings. She fixes up the flowers in the garden and washes her tea set. She gets out the cutting board and chops up fruit. The trash is full. She could be reasonable and take it out, but she doesn't feel like it. She'd have to go into her backyard, and her neighbor's dog keeps getting in. She does not like dogs. She puts the scraps down the garbage disposal instead.

She writes a message to send to everyone. It's a nice message. She doesn't send it.

She chickens out. She doesn't need to host a  party. She's never invited anyone to the house anyway. And it's not like people would come. She doesn't go places. She doesn't meet people. She doesn't talk to people. It's better this way. Really, it is.

She chops the watermelon, because why not? She's halfway through the process when she hears glass breaking.

Glass is not supposed to spontaneously rupture. That is not how glass physically works. If glass breaks, something broke it.

That something is probably no big deal. A stray baseball. A rock. A raccoon. Normal things. She grabs her watermelon knife, just to be on the safe side, and checks it out.

Holding the knife out in front of her, Lacy steps into the bathroom, looking at the window. It's broken, alright. She reaches to pull back the shower curtain when it starts to move. She jabs the knife at the animated bath linen. Something much heavier than a piece of fabric falls into the tub.

Nothing happens. Nothing moves. Nothing makes a sound.

Of course she expects it to be a body. She won't stop expecting it to be a body until she sees that it isn't a body. She pulls back the curtain and looks into the tub.

It's a body.

"Oh, dear."

A burglar, black ski mask and everything. Burglar. Death. Killer. No birthday party. There was a lot to worry about. And what was she going to do with the body? Call the police?

No. She can't handle that. So many people. So many questions. And he was just a burglar. He can just disappear. That's fine.

She will get rid of the body. She'll bury it in the backyard. It works in the movies.

Her neighbor's dog barks. The dog that keeps sneaking into her yard. It would find a body if she buried one. She has to get rid of it inside the house. Somehow.

She returns to the kitchen and puts on water for tea. She needs some mental fortitude that can only be provided by a good cup of chamomile.

She looks at her knife. She looks at the garbage disposal. "This will work."