Mike

"You're like a priest, right? You aren't allowed to testify against me and shit? Not quite? Oh, fuck it. I don't care anymore. Help me out, I pay you, and then if you want you can dob me in. I'm too tired to give a shit, I just wanna get rid of the bitch.

"So, I killed my girlfriend. Weirdly, it was accidental. I say weirdly, because – but that's a whole 'nother cricket game. Let's not go there, eh?

"We were arguing because I saw her fucking the next door neighbours – gay guys, what the fuck? – on their back veranda. Both of them. High noon, bright daylight even. The backyard can only be seen from one place – ours. And we were never that interested in watching the naked, oil-slicked freak shows that went on there. Well I weren't. Wasn't. Obviously Linda was a bit more interested than I'd thought. Guess they did make me look fuckin' boring. Kama Sutra and oil and screams of ecstasy. Linda and I went for good old missionary position and I came every time and she never complained. That seemed good enough. Well, fuck me. I was wrong.

"Damn, I've lost track. Right. I killed Linda. But like I say, it was accidental. I know all murderers say that, except the freakazoids who eat people's faces while they're alive and tied up, then fry their fingers and make haggis – shit. Off topic again.

"It was accidental. Just believe me, OK? We were arguing, she told me I fuck like a jellyfish (what the fuck?), and I slapped her. Fuck, wouldn't you? Nothin' much, if she'd been a bloke she'da laughed in my face. But she fell off her stupid stilettos. That's all she was wearing, see, just stilettos and a coating of oil. Christ, she stank like a whorehouse. But she said that, and she smirked. It was the smirk that did for me, but it was the high heels what did for Linda. She went sideways and lost her balance on those tall, stupid spiky things and went down, smacking her head on that fancy 'occasional table' with a nice meaty thump.

"She died 12 or so hours later. In her sleep. We'd called a truce and gone to bed and fucked – yeah, missionary position – and fell asleep. I woke up clutching a dead-cold cadaver that wouldn't move so I could take a pulse.

"Fuck. Reliving that has me crying like a little girl. I'm off to get a beer. You might as well fuck off for the night. See you later."

I get up, wipe my eyes and show the guy the door. Maybe he'll go straight to the cops and put my arse in jail. Can she get into a jail?

****

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Music and thumping. Fuck.

"LINDA!" I yell. "Shut the –"

I open my eyes, because she's gonna do something nasty to me before I finish the sentence. I'm getting to know this bitch better than I did when she was alive. I don't like her.

No one there.

Bang bang bang.

She's outside? What the fuck is she knocking to get in for?

I shuffle out to the door and open it. A skinny bloke in glasses is standing there with his fist in the air, looking fucking stupid.

"Oh. You're back? How much did I drink last night?" I ask, holding my head, which is pounding. And what the fuck is playing on my sound system? Oh fuck, Blondie? Just what I fucking need right now.

"Fuck, dude – you've got shit timing, ya know? Sit down and shut up while I get me a chaser. And turn off that bloody music, right? If she'll let you."

****

"So, I was sounding like a utter psycho last time you were here. But you've gotta understand, mate – I'm living in a little piece of hell. In fact, I reckon demons sticking pitchforks in my arse while I stand on hot coals sounds easy-peasy right now. Because this silly bitch has more imagination than any demon. Anyone'd think she'd been studying up on interrogation techniques – minoring in Breaking The Bastard Down.

"I've had feminist crap music being played full-bore in the early morning, my TV switching channels every time I relax, the fridge and freezer being unplugged, my BBQ's exploded... I'm a man on the edge. Coffee doesn't help anymore. Besides, I have to go to the cafe to get one because she'll switch the sugar with salt just for a laugh. And you don't wanna drink coffee with salt in it. Ever tried? It's the nastiest thing I've ever tasted, and I've tasted some nasty shit. Including Linda.

"Lemme give you an idea of one of my days, OK? Yesterday. I woke up, and there was no music playing. Thank God, I think, she's gotten the hint and buggered off. So I sit up, and my foot lands in a pile of horseshit. Don't wanna know where the hell she got that from. So I swear and wipe off my foot and she pinches me on the bum while I'm doing it and I fall on my arse and set off my sciatica, like she knew it would. I hobble to the bathroom to piss, and then take a look in the mirror. My hair's blue, and my eyebrows are green, and my skin's orange. I look like a smurf, a munchkin and an oompa loompa had an orgy and I was their love-child. Shit. I get into the shower and scrub and scrub. I get out and check the mirror, and discover that it's changed... not a bit. Fuck fuck fuck. So I give up, and I go to the cafe anyway. Everyone's staring and laughing the whole way there, and then the staff are goggling and trying not to be rude.

"'Psycho ex,' I explain and grin kinda cute, and shit if it don't work – they all smile n get all sympathetic and the bloke at the coffee machine makes me a free extra-large iced coffee thing with extra cream. Then, because he's a smart-arse, puts green, blue and orange sprinkles on top. Whatever. Caffeine. Cholesterol. Sugar. Heaven. Temporarily, of course. Cos then Linda turns up, right in public. She sits opposite me and one of the staff come over to take her order. She asks for a double espresso, black, hot. I frown at her but I can hardly say, 'Bugger off, you're a ghost!' in front of everyone, can I? So I sweat it out, and her double espresso arrives. She throws it in my face and disappears.

"The staff are all gaping. Hell, they did just see a woman disappear into thin air. didn't they? I count my options and quickly look as confused as anybody else. To help matters, I squeeze out a tear or two. Not too hard considering I just had scalding liquid all over my face.

"So there you are. She's a psycho bitch, and I gotta get her outta here. You're the exorcist – how the hell do we get rid of this chick?"

****

(Trent)

I sit in the chair, listening to this pale shadow of a man pour out his crappy black heart to me, and I do my best to look sympathetic. MUSTN'T smirk! We don't want to put the wind up him. Professional pride aside, Linda would kill me if I stuff this up.