The pick me up

Christine awoke to the sound of her alarm going off. The theme to the A-Team (*), was vibrating. Beside her, still sound asleep was her partner of one night. He had potential, if they both played their cards right, he could be a "Keeper". Just like a jigsaw puzzle, all the pieces have to fit into the right place. Christine quietly contemplated was he worth the time, or should she move on. She rose from the bed, took a hair tie from the bedside stand and silently put her blonde tresses into a pony tail and silently tiptoed to the refrigerator and upon opening the door, muttered under her breath about the interior light splaying out across the apartment. She feared waking him up, before she returned to him. Poking in for her "Jar of Rejuvenation". She placed her hand on the bottom shelve of the door to retrieve it. The place where she put it was vacant. She took a step back mulling over what she did last night. She was excessively tired last night and must have put it..........

"There it is", she thought, in the main cabinet of the refrigerator.

She took out the jar and unscrewed the lid, partaking of a long slug of salty brine that was her wake me up each and every morning. This was a ritual she had for twenty years. Just like milk and a loaf of bread, she NEEDED the jar of Olives and its savory life giving juice. Was it a mental or physical craving that permitted her to function in this manner, she did not know, but after twenty years of the ritual she was not going to try to wean herself from the habit. She inhaled and felt like a new woman. Slowly letting out her breath she felt that now, now she could take on the day. returning the jar to its rightful place, she slowly closed the refrigerator door and the light from within gradually faded

She stood there in complete darkness, and it was a few minutes before her eyes adjusted to the void and she was able to traverse back to the bed. Carefully lifting the sheet, she wiggled like a snake to get in a comfortable spot, but something was off, the bed was now cold, and she found herself alone. Fear welled up inside, and the knowledge of her routine may have been compromised.

She racked her brain. What's this guy's name? What's this guy's name. Then she remembered.

She whispered. "Bill, come back to bed.''''''

"It's a new day Christine", Bill said. She followed his voice to the corner of the room, and there he stood, dragging heavily on a cigarette, and drinking in her presence as the same time.

Curiosity was killing her. "How long have you been up? She enquired. Hoping for the right answer.

'I heard the refrigerator door shut, so I decided to have a smoke to start my day." He said coldly.

"Oh crap''' He smokes, maybe this guy isn't a keeper. I was really wishing that he was different,

Oh??? Everything all right??? She responded.

"I got a lot on my mind, People to see, things to do, places to go. you know the typical busy day. How about you?" He queried.

"I'll have to check my calendar. I have a full boat today, maybe we can do dinner tonight" She answered, knowing full well, that this man was a wash. She felt sad really, cause, he could have worked out. I wonder what other vices he has.

He tapped his cigarette out and reached out to give her a warm embrace. She allowed the hug, and she felt comfortable in his arms. But then she remembered he smokes. He leaned down and he gave her a deep lingering kiss on the lips. She felt weak and felt that warmth of being with the right person. She was happy, I can live with the smoking. Nobody's perfect. She collapsed totally in his arms. He carried her to the bed. She tried to reach up with her right hand to caress his cheek, but it would not move or raise.

"What is wrong with me" Christine said frightened,

"Bill, what did you do????", she tried to scream, but all that came out was her breathing.

He reached over and pulled the blue hair tie from her blonde tresses and threw it on the floor. He took out four red bandanas and tied each of her limbs to bedposts. He leaned ever so close to her neck and whispered into her ear. She fought the bandanas and her eyes were terrified of what was said.

Her eyebrows knitted into horrific form and she began to cry..

Bill's back became rigid and in an instant his mouth sought tenderness and almost drained Christine of blood, he left two pierce marks where his fangs had been just a second ago.

He rose from his kneeling position and dusted himself off and walked across the room.

He picked up the trash bag and paper towels began policing the room. He gathered his cigarette butt, picked up the blue hair tie, and with a paper towel, whipped Christines mouth as best he could to remove any residual DNA. Anywhere he had placed a hand or trace of himself, he whipped clean with the paper towels and put them in the trash bag. Satisfied, he then as a final act of Christines destruction he returned to the Kitchen and approached the refrigerator. He turned and looked at Christine, their eyes met. He gave a sinister laugh as if it came from the depths of hell itself. With a hand holding a paper towel, he opened the "Frig" door and extracted the bottle of Olive juice, twisted the lid off, and drank the remains of the liquid. He then shut the door with a papered hand. He tossed the olive jar in with all other trash and walked out the door. He walked one block away from Christine's apartment building and found a dumpster and with the finality of what was left of Christines life threw the trash bag in.