Slaying the Holidays

by Beatrix Hollow

Soren kisses the corpse. I can’t take my eyes away. It’s the most disturbing thing I’ve ever witnessed. Soren groans a little, then pops his eyes open and winks at me. “Now it's your turn, honey,” he chirps, pulling back with a grin. I shake my head frantically. “Uh, really, that won’t be necessary," the officer says. “Just a little kiss,” Soren insists, angling Thomas’ face towards me. “Really, no. I don’t want to see anything else,” the officer says. “Well, okay. It’s just… if you want to join…” Soren looks over his shoulder at the officer. The cop back peddles frantically. “Do that in your own house or a hotel,” he yells out before rushing back to his car. We listen to it drive away, and Soren sags. Then his head pops up, and he looks down at me.

There’s a certain Hell for people who blush when a killer calls them their wife.

but I don’t need Soren to kill minimum wage workers who fuck up my Taco Bell order. That’s about as close to an enemy as I have. Well, there was the bad date, but he already covered that one pro bono.

I could handle a bad date and a murder, apparently. But being proposed to while my perversion is revealed? Too much. God, please pick another soldier; this one has had enough battles for one night. Ugh.

he’s promised there’s an actual bed and not a hole in the ground where I put the lotion on my skin.

“Time to go,” I say, popping up from the throne. “Mrs Claus and I need to do some Christmas shopping.” “That’s not Mrs. Claus, that’s an elf!” A kid exclaims. All the other kids gasp in horror. “Mrs Claus is an elf. Interspecies marriage is legal in the North Pole.” I drag Sophie away.

My stomach feels elated, and I grimace. No breeding your therapist, you psychopath.