Another Friday Night by D.I. Jolly

I looked down with a smug sense of satisfaction as he slid off the knife to the ground. Of course then I heard his phone go off and had to check to see who was looking for him. Let me tell you, the moment you realise you’ve just killed your ex-girlfriends new boyfriend, is a pretty strange moment. In my defence though, he did kinda deserved it. I sat down on the body and stared read her messages. Thankfully they were in the middle of a fight. There was no way I was going to turn him into a martyr though, so I sent one of the many naked phones on his phone of some other girl. Stating that she’d already been replaced, and then I got up to kick him again, really hard. What an utter dick head. Among the random nude photo I did find a picture of her though. Nothing rude, just her sweet smile and playful cowl, a look I knew really well. She used to look at me like that all the time, and suddenly a part of my brain started dig up some long dead ‘What ifs’. I had to quickly push them back down though, because there was work to be done, I needed to get rid of this body. It wasn’t my first rodeo, so to speak, but I hadn’t originally planned to spend Friday night out in the rain burying a man, and yet there I was, cold, wet, dirty. Wet cigarette, sober and staring at that complete arsehole who’d spent the last six months sleeping with or cheating on the love of my life. I swung the shovel down hard and cracked him on the head one more time before tipping him into the grave. In reality I was really happy to be the one who got to kill the fucker. God she has bad taste in men, first me then this guy. I mean, I never cheated on her or anything, but I do kinda kill people. OK, wait, I’m being a little unfair to myself. I’m not a bad guy, I just kill people sometimes, but only bad people. Take douche bag here as an example.

Four hours ago I walked into a bar to have a nice quiet beer. I sat down at the bar, got my drink and felt set to have a nice quiet evening. Maybe flirt with some girls, or get into a deep drunken conversation with a stranger. Normal solo Friday night stuff. The bar was a nice-ish place, bit of a dive bar but not too seedy. I hadn’t been there long when my ears turned towards the loudest voices in the room. I tried to ignore them, but when you’re trained to listen it’s hard not to.

“Oh man, so what happened after you left with that girl last night?”

Through the mirror behind the bar I saw douchebag put on his best big dick smile and even pause for effect, like he was in a damned high school movie.

“Ah man, total fuck up, funny story though. By the time we got back to my place she was literally, LITTERALLY begging for it, so at first I let her put my cock in her mouth. Which was great because she couldn’t talk anymore.”

Another pause hidden behind sipping his beer, but really to let his friends laugh and make encouraging comments.

“But I could see the desperation in her eyes so I decided to give it to her. Two minutes in I noticed a bit of blood on my sheets and at first I thought, score! A virgin! So I started giving it to her harder, stretch her out a bit, leave a lasting impression, you know. Then suddenly she noticed it to, stopped and started apologising. Turns out she was just on her fucking period.”

His gallery arseholes, all erupted in grossed out groans and disgusted laughs, until one of them found his human words and said.

“Oh gross man, so what did you do?”

Douchebag takes another long drink of beer, smiles again and announces with success in his voice.

“I pulled out, wiped my cock on her face, threw her clothes at her and pushed her out the door, naked.”

The arseholes erupted in cheers and high-fives, and I realised that my nice quiet night was over. There was work to be done.

Luckily for me they’d been in the bar awhile and their night was nearly over, so I didn’t have to wait long before he stepped out to go home. When I jumped him I actually wasn’t planning on killing him, I had planned to fuck him up, steal his clothes and leave somewhere public and naked. You know, an eye for an eye. His fighting style was the same as a lot of the douchebags I’d confronted over the years. In his group he was the alpha male and in his head he was the hero. So believing he had right on his side he thought all his wild swings would connect. In reality though, training and practise more often win out. Occasionally you find one that does actually know what he’s doing, but not enough to be a problem. I really didn’t mean to kill him, but he pulled a knife, again clearly thinking that having a weapon means that you automatically win. He was however wrong.

I looked back down at his phone and saw my ex’s responses, and I really did feel bad for her. First she sent swear words, then as her confidence began to crumble, which was staggering to me. She was also such a proud women, spoke her mind, and that’s what I loved about her. The thought that douche bag had eroded her personality to the point where she was asking what she had done wrong made me glad my night had taken the path it had. I pushed his car into a river and started walking back to town. I thought real hard about contacting her, saying hello asking how she was, but instead, I was texting all of douchebags friends from his phone, telling a cowardly story about running away from someone he’d screwed over. With some luck, it would make them rethink their leader and their lives. If not, well, maybe there was more work to be done.

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