CONFESSIONS OF A GOOD MOTHER
Boston Light Press on Smashwords
Copyright © 2012 by Ray Daniel
He said, “Baby, take off those pretty shoes. I want to see the mud squish between your toes.”
That’s when I shot him.
Truth is, I would have shot him anyway. It was part of my deal with that pus bag, Al. Still, shooting him gave me the same warm feeling I get when I throw cash into the Salvation Army bucket. The world was a better place without him.
I put my LadySmith revolver back into my purse. I prefer a Glock 26, but I had used the LadySmith in yet another motherly compromise. I didn’t have time to root around the forest floor for shell casings because I needed to pick Monica up at the daycare center. They charge five bucks a minute if you’re late. I left Mr. Toe-jam on the forest floor and walked back to my Acura MDX through the wet leaves. Carl was sitting in the passenger seat waiting for me. He always sat there. His legs didn’t work.
“Ah, the wood nymph returns,” he said.
“Shut up, Carl.”
“Did your buddy enjoy the woods?”