Poison - Jennifer Baljko

I’m not a bad person. I really do like most animals. I grew up in a house resembling the neighborhood zoo. At some point, at the same time, there were seven people, one dog, two cats, a hamster, a snake, and three fish sharing different corners of space. The bird flew away; he knew better.

Still, I can’t control this daily urge I get to kill the neighbor and her scrappy rat-like mutt. His constant small-dog yapping makes me want kick him across the patio and over the roof, and watch him splatter to the ground just as a bus squashes his stupid little brain. The shrilly clamoring has been going on for months, and I just figured out exactly which apartment it’s coming from. The owner, with her pretentiously coiffed graying blonde locks and god-awful fire engine red lipstick, doesn’t seem to give a shit.

For a few minutes every morning, I’m lost in homicidal thoughts. I want to wring her neck, slap her silly, and torture her until she agrees to better discipline the whiny monster. As for the beast, I keep devising ways I could string up a poisonous bone and slide it down onto the balcony a few floors below. I don’t do it because I know it’s cruel. And, I don’t know how to pull it off yet without getting caught.