PUBLISHED BY DARK ELMS PRESS AT SMASHWORDS
Ben Prichard got away with murdering his twin sister. And in the end, that’s what damned him.
She was a fitness freak, Agatha Prichard was. Went for a five-mile run every morning, and followed it with fifty-five push-ups and fifty-five sit-ups. After her shower, she’d sit down for breakfast: five scrambled egg whites, three pieces of turkey-bacon, and a tall glass of lime Gatorade. It was the Gatorade that finally did her in.
Ben had heard that antifreeze tasted a lot like Gatorade. Had heard it was the cause of the deaths of many neighborhood animals. So he tested it on the neighbor’s dog—a white yip-yip mutt named Finley that Ben hated very much.
The dog lapped up the deadly antifreeze as if it were a bowl of gravy. That night, Ben muted the television (he was watching a rerun of That 70’s Show) to hear Jessica Kenny’s screams when she found her beloved pet, dead as a doornail, in their backyard.