“Tonight, some one is going to kill us. Pick us off one by one, when we least expect it, when we think we are safe in our cozy dorms, snuggled up to our furry feline friends; the killer is going to come unnoticed, sneak up on us and before our cats can even raise an alarm, bury a hatchet in our brain and watch in rapt fascination when tissues of grey matter squiggle out of the only deep opening in heads.” I said in a silent whisper, hoping that I sound menacing enough to scare the girls.
“Ahhhh” I hear two, satisfyingly, loud intake of breaths just as Fuschia, my Persian cat, snuggles up to me demanding a belly rub.
“Jasmine, you can do better than that. Come on, this remotely sounding prophetic statement wouldn’t scare an 9 year old, forget 19 year olds.” Laura, my nemesis, spoke clearly exasperated by our incompetence to scare each other.
But then again, I knew she had it in for me. From her ordinary mousy brown hair to her spectacled black eyes; from her evident poo belly to her H&M’s clearance sale clothes; Laura was not the type who would be asked out on a date even if she were the last girl in the dorm.
And Laura knew it, but then again, bless her middle-class heart, she did try to excel in academics.
In fact she tried a lot. So imagine her surprise when Jasmine, the auburn haired, hazel eyed beauty; who wore 2017 fall fashion; sweeps in and unceremoniously drops Laura off from the pedestal of a top grader.
Well, some one had to explicitly explain it to Laura that life sucked, especially considering I had at least 207 times already, and yet she wouldn’t understand.
So here I was, scooped up in my refurbished dorm with Laura and two other pre-meds on a stormy Halloween night with our power supply cut off. Considering almost all our college mates had left for the long weekend, I had no other choice but to indulge these three samples of inferior gene pool.
“Why not, Laura?” I challenged her annoying reasoning. “Don’t you think there are people who are ailurophobes, people who have a phobia of cats which means by definition they would hate cat lovers?” I answered, holding Fuschia tightly in my laps and curling her furry tail around my index finger.
“And what better reason to be picked off one by one because of pet cats? Right?!” Laura asked.
Okay, I do reluctantly agree that this did sound quite far-fetched, not out loud though. I mean we were discussing logical reasons why and how could anyone kill us one by one that night, for fucks sake, of course.
Nina suggested that the Red Devil might, in all likelihood, kill us, especially when we go to the toilet. The Red Devil will walk in and ask us to choose between using a blue toilet paper and red toilet paper. If we choose blue he would strangle us to death, you know blue face and all, but if we choose red, he would slit our throats and we’ll be covered in red.