Llamas with Hats Swap AU

Begonias

"Paul, I'm home!"

Carl had gotten back from his trip to the grocery store. He shut the front door and proceeded to go into the kitchen to put the groceries away. The entire day had been nothing short of ordinary. To tell the truth, it was actually pretty peaceful. It wasn't often he had days like that. Especially considering the fact he had to deal with Paul's usual antics every waking moment of his life.

Wait a minute. Where's Paul?

Carl froze. Once the question crossed his mind, he realized the house was a lot quieter than usual. Immediately thinking the worst, Carl instantly abandoned the groceries and went to search for his roommate. He started with the living room. Paul wasn't there. He checked the bathroom. Nope. He checked the bedroom and the basement. Carl checked every room in the house. After nearly three minutes of increasingly desperate searching, Carl still hadn't found Paul.

"Paul! Where are you?" Carl shouted.

"I'm out here, Carl!"

Oh, thank God. Carl sighed in relief as he exited through the back door. Maybe he's working on his garden, he thought.

As Carl made his way through the backyard, he began to notice several things that were out of place. Gardening tools were scattered across the ground. Clumps of dirt and mud had been slung all over every surface imaginable. The fence had a large hole in it.

But most worrying of all, however, was the series of bloody hoof prints that led straight to Paul's garden.

Carl suddenly felt the strong urge to start running. Without a moment's hesitation, he raced to the side of the house, beginning to panic.

What the hell has he done?! What could he possibly have- Oh no. Oh God, no.

When Carl reached the spot the hoof prints led to, he discovered that it was already too late. There, standing over a large pile of dirt, was Paul, covered in blood and holding a dirty shovel. Carl gawked at the sight in horror, his face frozen with a look of pure shock.

"PAAAAAAAAAUL!" The sound of Carl's voice rang loudly through the backyard.

"Hi, Carl. How was work?" Paul asked innocently, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"Paul! What did you do?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Carl."

"Come on, Paul! The backyard's a mess, there's a huge hole in the fence, and you're standing on a pile of dirt covered in blood. Don't even try to tell me nothing happened!"

"Oh, you mean all this," Paul replied, briefly surveying the mess, "I'm just in the middle of renovating the backyard."

"No, Paul." Carl shook his head in denial.

"I was about to install an outdoor swimming pool."

"No."

"I was organizing my gardening tools and I fell over."

"Really, Paul? Are you serious right now?" Carl prodded on in exasperation.

"Alright, alright! I'll tell you. Do you remember our neighbor Pat?"

"Yes, what about him?" Carl asked, hesitant and slightly afraid of what the answer might be.

"Well, his dog broke through the fence and started digging up the begonias, so I chased it around the yard and beat it to death with a shovel. This pile of dirt is here because I decided to bury it."

A moment of silence passed as Carl stared at Paul in horror.

"Paaaaaul! That's awful! What are we going to do if Pat comes by asking where his dog is?" Carl cried.

"Oh, don't worry. He isn't going to notice the dog is gone anytime soon."

"How could he possibly not notice, Paul?"

"Because I took care of him after I killed the dog. I knocked him out and I buried him alive."

"Paaaaaul! He didn't do anything to you!" Carl scolded, "Why would you ever do such a terrible thing?"

"Well, if you must know, I had an idea this morning while I was working on the yard. I've decided that I'll be making a corpse garden to bury the people I kill in. Luckily, the neighbor's dog just so happened to drop by at that moment."

"Oh my god, Paul! How could you think any of that was a good idea?"

"Well, I can't just throw everyone I kill in the basement, Carl. That takes up far too much space. And it's not like I'm always going to have the energy to climb up a ladder and dump a corpse down a random person's chimney every time I kill someone! That's way too tiring. Besides, with me burying my victims in the ground, the earth's soil will be getting the nutrients it needs."

"Wow, Paul. I seriously can't believe you right now. Why do you do this to me? Do you have any idea how painful this feels right now?"

"Don't you ever think about how I feel, Carl? I worked hard on those begonias!"

"That's not the point, Paul! What you did was a complete overreaction!"

"Well, I'm sorry that me being creative with my work hurts you so badly, Carl." Paul replied sarcastically.

"This isn't being creative, Paul! This is just sick."

"If it makes you feel any better, Carl, I could try digging them back up. I don't think I buried them too deep."

"No, Paul! That isn't going to work. It's already too late to do anything."

"Fine. Would you at least like me to fix dinner?"

"No, of course not! You're always trying to sneak human body parts into the food."

"Well, I guess that means I cut off Pat's fingers for nothing."

Carl instantly went quiet, shocked at Paul's surprisingly unexpected response.

"Paaaaaaul!"

"Oh, calm down! You have your hobbies, I have mine." Paul whined, pouting at his roommate.

"Killing people and eating their fingers isn't a hobby, Paul!" Carl growled, gritting his teeth.

Paul tilted his head up slightly and closed his eyes. "Anything can be a hobby if you do it enough times." He said it with as much pride as ever.

Carl sighed, too tired to continue yelling at the llama standing in front of him. "You know what? I give up. I'm going back inside. The groceries haven't been put away yet. I'm not cleaning this mess up, by the way."

With that, Carl turned away and went back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him. The silence left behind felt empty, yet almost peaceful in a way. Or at least, to Paul, it did.

"So, do I still get to eat the fingers, or not?"