Qayid Aljaysh Juyub
Do you know the feeling of being annoyed by everything and having to snap right away? The irresistible urge deep inside you to just kill the other person so that they finally shut the fuck up? Most of the time such emotions remain hidden in us and we sometimes even respond with a smile. Now let's tell the story of someone who turned theoretical considerations into practice.
It was an ordinary Tuesday morning in that period between Corona and the great climate lockdown. 50% of the Ballermann-Philistin family, consisting of husband Eduardo, sat reading the newspaper at the kitchen table, while the discontented rest amused themselves by washing the dishes.
"When are we going to buy a new dishwasher? The constant washing up is getting on my nerves! Actually, you could help me out around the house occasionally!"
Lucretia, an attractive woman in her late thirties, looked at her husband, who had little affinity for housework, slightly sourly.
"Don't get so worked up, Lucky, you're just a woman and much better suited for such activities simply because of your biological performance. Besides, there's just no money for frills that have to be bought because the lady thinks she's too fine to do the dishes. For God's sake, what's the point of having a dishwasher if you're married?"
Eduardo, uncrowned macho king, didn't even bother to look up from his newspaper.
"If your grace didn't keep buying new guns to kill innocent critters, there would be enough money already!"
The wife, kept in moderate servitude, though a sport shooter herself, didn't think too much of her husband's expensive passion for hunting. The latter now reluctantly condescended to put aside the 'Connard Kurier' and devote himself to his recalcitrant wife.
"The noble work of a huntsman has its price! A woman doesn't understand that anyway. What do you actually want? You are allowed to do your ridiculous job as a teacher and even get pocket money with extra pay, if it worked out really well in bed once! In addition, I hang you with jewelry like a Christmas tree to impress my friends and you can wear the most expensive clothes that I choose for you. You can get divorced, but don't forget that you have to pay alimony to me according to the marriage contract and that will be expensive! So shut up now and bring me another cup of coffee with extra sugar - but hurry up!"
Before we now continue our cheerful story, a few words of clarification are probably in order. Our unilaterally happy couple once met at university, where both were studying to become teachers. Lucretia, then still emancipated within limits and not yet under the thumb of the patriarchy, fell madly in love with the attractive and easy-going fellow student, throwing her otherwise sharp mind overboard. The object of desire, in turn, was guided less by hormonal excess than by practical considerations and played the perfect Romeo to his lady of the heart from a halfway wealthy background, recognizing Lucretia's potential as a future provider by a hair's breadth. Thus our gigolo for the poor, who falsely carried the self-image of an urbane bohemian, succeeded in motivating his adorer to a marriage contract, in which one of Eduardo's associates, the angularly experienced advocate Diaboli, drew up the deliberate marriage contract, which was also promptly signed by the victim, for love, as is well known, makes one visually impaired. Of course, after that the happy husband did not think about finishing his studies or pursuing any professional activity - no, he did not become a deputy of an ecologically valuable party. While the loving wife with diligence and intellect eventually worked as a high school teacher, the less loving husband busied herself squandering her fortune on all sorts of elitist diversions. Of course, her dear husband did not immediately drop the mask and continued to pretend to be in love for a few more years, but when Romeo's epigone began to collect his impoverished wife's salary, since all other means had been spent on his leisurely self-realization, Lucretia also began to suspect a shadow of the truth. After heated arguments and enlightening references to the marriage contract signed by the wife, the latter at first reluctantly submitted to her fate.
"As you wish, my beloved. You shall have what is due to you!"
With her back to her supposed lord and master, the lady of the house fiddled with the coffee machine.
"There you go, finally she's got it! Now hurry up, I don't have all day!"
Satisfied, the macho princely bon vivant of masculine grace grinned at the supposedly submissive wife.
"Here, my dear, well get it".
Pleasurably, feeling like a real man and master in the house, Eduardo drank up the black brew in one gulp. Before continuing with his reading of the Connard Courier, he decided to give the trained woman further instructions in an imperious voice.
"You should get ready now so that you don't miss the bus to work. Don't forget to pick up my delicacies at the deli, and because you've been so good today, I'll let you pick up the Texas bean stew at the low cost discounter for dinner - the one with dung beetle in it, of course, it's cheaper! Oh, and now you're going to clean my shoes and ... I feel so strange all of a sudden."
Lucretia looked at her husband, whose complexion was gradually turning greenish pale, with affectionate satisfaction.
"You don't happen to feel nauseous and have a tingling sensation throughout your body?"
"How do you know? Oh God, I'm going to throw up."
Panic-induced, the parasitic patriarch's already underdeveloped thinking faculties were now completely out of whack.
"Very good! Come, my dear, I'll help you to the toilet! Your sense of balance shouldn't work so well anymore either."
Skillfully and giggling tenderly, Lucretia shipped the so to speak 'toxic' manhood into the fancy bathroom, where Eduardo collapsed in front of the toilet bowl with the last of his strength, or rather was thrown by his loving wife.
"So, my dear, let's lift the lid so you don't leave a mess when you die now."
"What have ... done."
With fading strength, the indisposed spouse pounded out the words.
"Do you think I haven't noticed how you've been cheating me all these years? I don't mean just the money, but also your countless love affairs. All right, I've had my way with one guy or another, but now I've had it with you for good!"
The future widow shook her beautiful head with amiable resignation.
"You are unfortunately unteachable, so now I had to use more drastic methods. By the way, this is 'Wuhan Wonder', a new type of fast-acting rat poison from China - so it suits you quite well. I'll close the door now, so you can die in peace. Well, in a few minutes you will be anyway, senseless. Bon Voyage!"
Mercilessly the door closed while Eduardo tried in vain to crawl to the bathroom exit.
Whistling cheerfully, Lucretia preened herself after successful hubby disposal regarding the intended rampage at her school, when the front doorbell of her family home rang.
"God bless you. I'm from the Apostles of the Permanent Apocalypse and I'd like to talk to you about your life. Have you ever thought about God?"
With interest, the potential victim of sectarian conversion efforts regarded the neatly dressed gentleman at her front door and congratulated herself for opening despite impulses to the contrary.
"Come in, my good man. I'll show you straight into the living room. See that armchair over there, that's where my husband always sits, but you may make yourself comfortable there too!"
Touched in the most pleasant way, the catcher of unsuspecting lost souls did as he was told and began with his little sayings in the heat of the moment before the little sheep to be sheared could sit down or do anything else.
"You know, dear lady, God loves you. Just as He loves all the meek and poor in spirit. For giving is..."
"Good man, slow down! You have a lot of conviction. But may I offer you something, perhaps a cup of coffee?"
Slightly irritated by the interruption, the eager preacher gave his hostess a venomous look, but then put on his rehearsed smile again.
"No, just a water, please."
"All right, then. I'll be right back."
Inwardly, Brother Judas rejoiced as he thought of all the dough he could extract from the departing housewife. It had been a long time since the fisher of men had hooked such a fat catch, and if he managed to properly plunder the woman, perhaps there would be no beating from the vicar and his powerful 'servants of God'.
"You think you're going to heaven, don't you?"
Smiling blissfully, God's Great Faker turned and looked down the barrel of a Beretta with a mounted silencer.
"Yes! Uh, for heaven's sake, what's that all about? Are you ..."
"Quiet! At least now you'll find out if that's true. If so, why don't you say hello to your God for me and let him know that I'll be providing supplies. "
"You are completely in..."
A well-aimed shot to the head silenced the hysterically rolling over voice of the preacher.
The inclined reader should know that Lucretia's now-departed husband possessed an extensive collection of illegal weapons, almost surpassing in scope that of the police chief, and meanwhile the happy widow had picked out a suitable object to suit her purposes.
After paving the way to a better world for the clergyman, Lucretia continued her styling, then provided herself with sufficient ammunition and grabbed the faded Eduardo's Porsche to apply her special teaching and reconnaissance methods to the alma mater as well. The trip went almost without incident, but an 'unconvincing' pedestrian, who was about to cross the street at the wrong color of traffic light, scratched the hood of the car and left a few streaks of blood on the windshield - but the pedagogue had to speed up quite a bit to catch the rascal. As planned, the conscientious educator arrived at the school parking lot shortly after classes had started and ran directly into her colleague Clochardmoral, whose macho airs were far below ground level.
"Well, well, colleague Lucretia. May I remark that you look like a professional with your handbag!"
Without suspecting what was in said red shoulder bag, the Neanderthal - all right, they probably had better manners - glanced at it and then at its wearer suggestively.
"May I ask what you mean by that?"
The addressed smiled smugly.
"Like a professional model, of course, Madam Colleague. What did you understand?"
Lucretia was not really surprised by the answer, since she had known Clochardmoral for some time and knew how he knew how to talk his way out of it regarding his sexist remarks.
"Hubert, I already understand you well and I'm really up for a whole guy today. Your kind has always turned me on and I want it now. Let's go to the ladies' room, the cubicles are bigger and there's no one there now anyway."
The verbal erotic, whose wettest dreams were obviously about to be fulfilled, lost his speech for a short moment, so that he even locked his mouth with the rotten stumps of his teeth for a few seconds. Then the fatty man in his mid-fifties, convinced of his own attractiveness, laughed ugly.
"You are all the same! You go first! You don't know what bitch is still hanging around."
A few minutes later, a grinning Lucretia and her galan almost drooling with greedy anticipation entered the empty ladies' room. Finally, the two faced each other a few feet apart.
"You can drop your pants already, then I can get it better for you!"
At record speed, schoolmasterly pantalones along with ruffled brown and white underpants went to the floor and Hubert's genitals unfolded in their modest glory.
"You whore are apparently all wet already!"
"Time for a lesson!"
With a fluid movement, the pedagogue took the silencer-armored Beretta out of her handbag and, with a well-aimed shot, pretty much shredded the noblest parts of her so 'charming' colleague.
"Man, he was small, I had to really aim. Do you have to scream like that? Good, you should be silenced, I've always wanted to do that by the way!"
A mercy shot finally ended the life of the lover disappointed in such a painful way. Before our avenging angel could leave the toilet, however, its door opened and a schoolgirl looked on stunned in terror at the scene.
"You again Mrs. Zellner. It's illegal to smoke pot in the bathroom!"
The leaf shot literally hurled the student out of the doorway.
"I guess now you won't have any problems with my orders. Thanks, at least this way I won't have to do you in class!"
Deciding whether she should now raid the corpse's supply of grass, the stern teacher decided against it, stowed her pistol and hastily moved towards the secretary's office, entering after a few minutes.
"Mrs. Draaken, is it possible to speak with Director Stark? It's a really urgent matter!"
At first, the elderly secretarial staff member looked at the woman who had entered with a look that suggested she was obviously about to spit fire. Then, as usual, Ms. Draken smiled with saccharine scorn as her limited mind realized once again that she could now harass her counterpart.
"An important matter? What a pity, but I'm afraid the director is very busy. Perhaps I can take a message to him?"
The secretary's eyes burned with curiosity, while Lucretia was absolutely sure that while the given information would be spread throughout the school by Mrs. Draaken, depending on the degree of embarrassment.
"If I say that something would be important, then you should kindly let me go ahead! You will never learn!"
"Insolence, what form ..."
A well-aimed shot literally cut off the typist's word, putting an end to her denunciatory existence.
Cheerfully and without knocking, the avid sports shooter now entered the supervisor's office, which was located right next to the secretary's one.
"Tony, my darling, I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
Tony Stark - affectionately called 'the least Avenger' by his colleagues - cringed neatly as he watched a porn movie with dominant ladies on the computer for further education reasons. The principal thanked the gods that no identifiable noise was made during the current scene by largely gagging the performers and hurriedly stopped the video.
"Oh, Lucretia, I can't use you at all right now. I'm studying a civic education piece on the preferences of teenage females. I really don't have time for you right now!"
"But I need to talk to you!"
As always when his counterpart was forceful, the principal buckled.
"So, because it's you. What's up?"
"I'm supposed to work overtime next week because colleague Kautsky is once again on a demo for climate protection during working hours. Not that I have anything against it, but can't he take time off if it's so important to him? Why do I and my colleague Zwakkeling always have to stand in for him? Colleague Lui Varken and Mrs. Babbelaar are just as qualified."
"Now, now, dearest Lucretia! Lui Varken, as we all know, has delicate health and still gets sick to me when he has to work too hard, and Mrs. Babbelaar comes again with her discrimination ploy. I am so sorry about that, dearest Lucretia! But my hands are tied and it's best you sort it out among yourselves. What's the matter, Lucretia? I don't know you like this, you're usually rather quiet!"
Stark looked at his subordinate with mock concern, secretly hoping that she would get out of his office as quickly as possible.
"Alright, I didn't expect anything else!"
"Then we're agreed! Good luck with your lessons, then."
Lucretia, who had already half turned away, now abruptly turned to the director and, smiling, took out her pistol.
"What's the matter now, have you gone completely mad? It's not real, is it?"
Anxiously, Tony, who had little character, looked at the gun.
"Unfortunately it is! Aren't you going to reconsider about Kautsky?"
"Well, come to think of it, he should do his political activities in his spare time. You don't want to hurt me, do you?"
"That reminds me, maybe the Babbelaar should take over the service after all!"
"Sure, seems like a good suggestion to me too, so she'll do it!"
"But Lui Varken probably couldn't hurt a little extra employment either!"
"You're so right! It's about time he started working properly again!"
The armored pedogogue let out a mirthful laugh.
"You can't and never will learn, my dear! Too bad!"
With one clean shot, the passionate teacher took all future decisions away from her principal.
But now it was time to pay a visit to the teachers' lounge in the other wing of the school building. When, after 10 minutes, the trigger-happy teacher entered the mentioned room, she found there, as expected, colleagues Kautsky and Babbelaar, who were just spending a free period there. Immediately, female part of the already present teaching staff rushed to the new arrival with all kinds of news, while Kautsky was sorting leaflets in simple language, so that the sextans could understand them, for the next climate demo.
"Well, well, well, Mrs. Ballermann-Philistin.... mum-bo-jumbo...and this sexist guy dared to contradict me by looking at me after all...bla-bla-bla...Did you already know ...numbo_jumbo...and I said: that's discriminatory, now it's finally over!"
A dry sound from the Beretta's silencer ended Babbelaarsche's torrent of words forever. Meanwhile, the leaflets fell from the activist's hands and he stared in disbelief at the body of his colleague.
"Shut the fuck up if you don't want me to shut you up!"
Kautsky's reason triumphed over the rising panic and silenced his pointed screams. The gunner queen smiled, now that she didn't have to shoot this annoying do-gooder immediately, but could have her fun with him, too.
"Nice flyers, Kautsky! Maybe I can motivate you to eat them? It's good for the climate if they don't end up in the garbage, but are biodegraded! Besides, the crazy slogans are really an insult to all reason!"
Under the cheers of his environmentally conscious colleague, the activist eagerly ate his fatuously written print media.
"You really do whatever the powers that be tell you to do! Too bad for you that I'm your goddess now and don't like slimy opportunists!"
This time the deadly pedagogue made a joke of herself and downright slammed her fine-tasting colleague with the remaining bullets in the magazine. Sensibly, she slid the spare magazine into the gun and hastily made her way to her final stop.
Senior teacher Lui Varken, in his listless way, was giving a mathematics lesson, trying to teach the rather untalented 12c integral calculus according to the syllabus, when Lucretia entered the classroom and interrupted her colleague's monotonous lecture.
"Lui, my friend, maybe I should relieve you. You know, actually your health is too delicate for a teacher!"
Almost casually, the concerned colleague shot the senior teacher, who was not so blessed by diligence. The students, who had been chatting lively until then, suddenly fell silent and stared in horror at the terrible pedagogue.
"What nonsense, trying to teach you this, you are too stupid for it anyway. Some of you don't even know the rule of three. But it doesn't matter, according to the instructions of the Minister of Education, Green, you all have to get good grades anyway. Maybe I'll let some of you go. Sabine, Hamdi, Dietmar and Detlef, stand up for a moment!"
The aforementioned stood up in the hope of being the ones that this crazy woman would let go first.
"You are absolutely resistant to learning and have annoyed me the most. Your demise should be no loss!"
With four quick shots, Lucretia put her plan into action. Meanwhile, panic broke out among the rest of the student body and despite being dangerously pistol-whipped, they removed themselves from the kill zone to the cheerful laughter of their actual class teacher.
"The comedy is over, but I will be remembered for a long time! That's it and bye!"
Smiling blissfully, Lucretia put the Beretta to her temple and pulled the trigger.
© 2021 Q.A. Juyub
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