Between a Witch and a Hard Pace

With a pace of 7’ 51” and a heart rate of 152 BPM, Evan Pryor’s first mile was going well. There was no heavy breathing, no aching calf muscles, and most importantly, no exercise-related transient abdominal problems, otherwise known as ‘getting a stitch.’

Evan embarked on his soul-cleansing 2.5-mile run at 5:30 pm, just after finishing work. He found it an effective way to destress from another day spent dealing with dickheads. Evan had long ago concluded that God must have gathered all the dipshits, morons, and fucktards in the world and given them jobs at his workplace. But the attractive salary and even better medical care made it bearable, so Evan felt he could manage his daily encounters with his colleagues’ stupidity.

Evan had planned his daily 2.5-mile circuit to include a rough terrain section in Wild Woods, favourably located in Beckmead Ghyll, where Evan resided. He intentionally included this section for his cardio workout. There were a couple of steep hills (for some unfathomable reason, Evan referred to them as The Witches of Ghyllwick), and the witches always gave Evan the impression they wanted to give him a heart attack and kill him. However, he was adamant about not letting that happen, at least not until he bested his pace time of seven and a half minutes per mile. After that, the witches could kill him if they so desired.

“Come on, you bastard!” Evan roared as he neared the summit of the third and final Witch of Ghyllwick (which, for some unbeknownst reason, he named Denise). He was also fast approaching his second mile marker of his run. “You can do it, Evan! You sack of shit! Push! Push! Pppuuussshhh!” Evan howled like a deranged barbarian. He slowed his pace and checked his smartwatch. “Bollocks. Utter sweaty bollocks,” he groaned. The pace for his second mile was 8’ 12”. He was desperate to keep it under 8 minutes per mile.

With half a mile left and him grumbling irritably at the fictional witch Denise, Evan began the half-mile journey back home at a brisk jog. He vowed that tomorrow he was going to hand Denise her arse on a plate and smash his course record of 18 minutes and 47 seconds.

The biggest dickhead at Evan’s workplace was a woman named Jayne Gwent. She also happened to be Evan’s nemesis, and in his own words, she was the ‘Queen of the Karens,’ or less favourably, ‘The Bitch-Devil Incarnate.’ However, the disdain was mutual. Jayne often referred to Evan as ‘a wank gone wrong,’ and during many of their arguments, her favourite retort would be, ‘Your mother definitely should have swallowed.’

Evan and Jayne had been at war with each other for three years in a tit-for-tat affair. Both described their conflicts as minor skirmishes rather than full-on pitched battles. Each took small victories daily, but the war remained unwon by either party. Both were too stubborn to complain to HR, and neither would leave for a new job, as doing so would mean admitting defeat, a concession neither was willing to make.

Evan was finishing the last section of Wild Woods and was on the home stretch when he found himself daydreaming about ways he would like to kill Jayne. Over the years, he had concocted many scenarios, mostly involving office stationery. One fantasy involved stabbing her to death with a blue Biro—specifically blue, not black. Another, less plausible method was hole-punching her to death. The current method Evan was contemplating involved stapling her to death, but that would require a lot of staples and physical effort—efforts Jayne Gwent wasn’t worth. He was back to the drawing board. That sparked an idea: inserting drawing pins into Jayne’s feet for a slow, painful, stabby death. But that would mean touching Jayne’s feet. No, definitely not an option. Hole-punching her to death was still a strong contender.

Evan was soon jolted from his daydream by a man in the distance shouting, “You promised me! You fucking promised me, you miserable bitch! I knew I should have never listened to your lies.”

Evan stopped and paused the ‘Outdoor Run’ workout on his smartwatch. The man continued his tirade, “Did you ever have any intention of leaving your husband? You said you weren’t happy. He beat you. Abused you. I can give you a better life than he can. You know this!”

Evan recognised the man’s voice from work. He had been involved in quite a few arguments with him due to the fact that their respective departments despised each other. They worked in accounts, and Evan worked in procurement.

Evan walked towards the voice as it continued to berate the woman. When Evan was close enough, he stopped, hidden behind the trunk of a large tree on an embankment in Wild Woods. The voice, at least fifty feet below on the woodland floor, belonged to Kevin Day.

“I was told to stay away from you. But I didn’t listen. I thought they were shit-stirrers and naysayers. How wrong was I, hey? How fucking wrong…!”

“Oh, shit,” Evan whispered, alarmed as Kevin withdrew a gun and pointed it at the woman. Evan couldn’t see the woman as she was concealed by the tree trunk.

“Please, Kevin, I’m sorry,” the woman pleaded. “I will leave him. I just need time.”

Evan instantly recognised the woman’s voice. It instantly made him want to punch a toddler in the face or push an elderly man in front of a freight train. That voice could crack windows, turn fire into ice, and render erections flaccid for eternity. The voice belonged to the one and only Queen of Karens, Jayne Gwent.

“Don’t lie!” Kevin shouted, waving the gun. “I’ve had enough of your lies. It’s giving me a headache.”

Evan cautiously peered around the tree trunk to glimpse Jayne. She was kneeling on the ground with her hands pressed together. “We can still have fun, Kev. You liked our fun. Didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” Kevin scorned. “It was phenomenal. The best sex I’ve ever had.”

“And me too,” Jayne said. “Just the best.”

“Oh, please,” Evan whispered, rolling his eyes. He felt the urge to scratch out his own eyes at the thought of Jayne having sex.

Kevin began to pace on the woodland floor, gesturing with the gun in Jayne’s direction. “I thought we were coming here to fuck,” he sniped. “Not for you to dump me.”

“We can still fuck, Kev,” Jayne pleaded. “We just have to pump the brakes on me leaving my husband, that’s all.”

“Liar! Liar!” Kevin lunged towards Jayne and thrust the gun into her face. “Stop lying, Jayne. You’re breaking my heart. Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you in the fucking face and bury you in the woods.”

Jayne seemed lost for words.

Evan assessed the situation. Under normal circumstances, he would have revealed himself to Kevin and startled him. Even with a gun, Evan knew he could overpower him. But these were not normal circumstances. This was an opportunity. An opportunity to finally win the war with Jayne Gwent. If the love-scorned Kevin Day shot and murdered Jayne Gwent, Evan Pryor would no longer have to endure her nonsense permanently. This opportunity was like looking a gift horse in the mouth and wishing for a book voucher instead.

“Because I love you, Kev,” Jayne smiled. “And you love me too. Don’t you?”

“You know I do,” Kevin said, thrusting the gun once more into Jayne’s face. “But what does it matter if you won’t leave your man? I can’t keep going in circles. It’s driving me fucking mad!” Both Jayne and Evan flinched when Kevin held the gun above his head and fired into the air. The gunshot echoed throughout the woods.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jayne wept. “Please don’t kill me, Kev. Please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”

In that moment, Evan had a change of heart. Hating Jayne Gwent was his life’s purpose, almost an obsession, a sport, a hobby he couldn’t shake. He convinced himself that if Kevin murdered Jayne, it would mean neither of them won their little war fairly. Kevin Day’s lover’s angst would ruin it all.

“No,” Evan whispered. “If anyone’s going to put Jayne Gwent in the ground, it will be me. I’ve put too much effort into this grudge for some limp-dick motherfucker to ruin it. Not today, Kevin. Not today.” Evan took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, put on his ‘I’m severely pissed off’ face, and stepped from behind the tree. “Oi, dickhead. Put the gun down, will you, before someone gets hurt.”

Kevin looked at Evan, completely bemused.

“Evan!” Jayne screeched. “Thank you, oh thank you. Kev’s going to shoot me. He’s lost his mind.”

“Stay back, Pryor,” Kevin stammered as Evan began to descend the embankment. “I’ll shoot you. I’ll put a bullet in that thick skull of yours.”

Evan shook his head in embarrassment. “We both know you won’t.”

“Why’s that then?” Kevin nervously gestured with the gun at Evan.

“Because you would have shot me by now.”

Kevin looked deflated. He let his arm holding the gun fall limply by his side.

Jayne fixed her steely gaze on Evan as he approached her. She didn’t seem as appreciative of her knight in shining armour as she had moments before. “You took your time,” she said icily.

“If that’s your attempt at an apology, I’ll accept it,” Evan shrugged. “I could have easily stayed hidden and let Kevin shoot you.”

“That was never going to happen,” Jayne smiled. “If I die, then who else is going to be your work nemesis? Kate Brent? No. She’s as timid as they come. Paul Nickles? He’s as placid as a crackhead.”

Evan turned to Kevin and pointed at Jayne. “On second thoughts, Kevin. Shoot the bitch in the face, or better still, pass me the gun and I’ll do it myself.”

Kevin grinned and raised the gun. “I’d say I’m going to miss you, Pryor, but that would be a lie. And after this little charade ends, I’ll be glad to see the back of you.”

“Uh?” Evan was completely baffled by the unfolding events. He had just saved his nemesis’s life, but things had taken a bizarre turn. His nemesis seemed unappreciative of his valiant efforts, and now her would-be-lover-turned-killer had just tossed his gun through the air towards his intended victim.

“You really are stupid, Evan.” Jayne caught the gun and instantly pointed it at Evan.

“Ah, I see,” Evan said as it finally dawned on him. “That’s why you said I took my time. You staged this little charade.”

“Finally, he gets it,” Jayne said. “Clever Evan Pryor.”

“Fuck you, Gwent.”

“Insult the woman who’s got a gun. Or better yet, insult the woman who hates the fucking sight of you.”

“Feelings mutual.”

“Minus a gun.”

“Obviously minus a gun,” Evan tutted. “Why kill me, Gwent?”

“I’m tired, Evan,” Jayne sighed. “I’m sick of our bullshit. It has to end. I’m not going to leave our work, and you’re not either. So, I’m taking an executive decision and ending the war.”

“By killing me.”

“Yup, the Queen of Karens is doing her bit for society.” Jayne then paused. Something occurred to her. “At work, you keep banging on about this running route you do and how you want to get below seven and a half minutes per mile.”

“That’s why you chose to stage this little charade here?” Evan asked, adding a laugh.

“It wasn’t hard,” Jayne snapped. “You do this run daily, as regular as clockwork. Like the boring fuck you are.”

“Sticks and stones, Gwent.”

“Did you manage to achieve seven and a half minutes per mile?”

“Fuck you, Gwent.”

“Fuck you too, Evan,” Jayne smiled fondly as she steadily squeezed the trigger. “I suppose a little part of me will miss you.”

“Really?” Evan asked, unconvinced.

“No…”