Being Neighborly

***This is not for this prompt, but I'd submitted a story I preferred more to the 'same first sentence' prompt. Since I didn't know what else to do with it, it's here.***

Love thy neighbor. Bunch of crap. If I went on to love my neighbor as my wife Joyce was doing, I'd be naked in his arms giving him my whole body. That would be weird. At least for me. Evidently not for her, because she stopped sharing her body with me months ago. "I'm not in the mood," she'd say, or "I have a headache," or simply "Not tonight." I found it frustrating, but didn't think much beyond that. Now I know why. They played me for a fool. That's not a good thing. Now they are finding out why.

Love thy neighbor. Something I really can't seem to grasp. Never could. They explain that it isn't necessarily your literal neighbor, but anyone who needs help. No one helped Billy Fales as I knocked the shit out of him. Called him queer, which he wasn't, but I didn't care. He asked, no, begged me to stop and that power just inflamed me. If not for the teachers, I don't know if I would've stopped. I got suspended. My mom cried. My dad beat me senseless, then beat my mom senseless for being too lenient on me.

Love thy neighbor. I did. I tried. I protected Billy and his friends all that year and all the next year. They gave me their lunch money and found a means to supply me with food and candy and whatever else I wanted. In return, I left them alone and no one else messed with them either. Probably because of me. Then Billy took a whole bottle of his mom's sleeping pills. Left a note saying he was free. No one understood. I did.

Love thy neighbor. Don't steal. Hah! What fun is in the buying? I shoplifted many things: Hostess Twinkies, Snickers, whatever I wanted. I stole bikes people left in their yard too close to the road. Mostly I shoplifted girlie magazines from the backroom of the local convenience store. Built up quite a collection. My mom found them. She cried. My dad came at me. That was the last time he tried that, and so began a whole new beginning in our relationship. 

Love thy neighbor. Ironically our neighbor is also named Billy, and I wonder if it is with love that Joyce is tying him to a chair. She is crying. Sort of reminiscent of my mom except my mom didn't whore around with the neighbor. 'A mistake,' they keep proclaiming. 'It just happened,' 'we were going to end it,' and so on kept spilling out. I kept my gun trained on their still naked bodies as Joyce knotted the rope I gave her. I wondered if they played games like that? You know, tying each other up. Then I had her stuff her panties in Billy's mouth to shut him up. I'm sure he knew the taste. Hope he's enjoying it. Then I made sure Joyce wouldn't give much resistance before tying and gagging her to a matching chair. Appropriate.

Love thy neighbor. I see the fear in Joyce's eyes. In both their eyes really, but mostly Joyce's; because that's where I'm looking as I tell her the things she didn't know about me. The story of Billy – dead Billy, not wife stealing Billy. I tell her about all the past girls I fucked just because I could. Most willingly, others maybe not so much though I didn't consider it rape. Sperm depository is how I thought of and referred to them as. Nothing more. The only one whose name I cared to remember was Anna. Anna of the bowling alley. Anna who did me up royal in the back of my chevelle and gave me the clap. That Anna had to learn a lesson, and I recall each and everyone one I gave her. She no doubt does as well.

Love thy neighbor. I'm about to show them love. I retrieved my tool bag from the back of my truck and started sifting through my tools while sitting cross legged in front of Joyce. I tell her how my life changed when we met. That I really wanted to be a better person because of her. I know it's cliche, but I don't know how else to state it. I wanted the house, kids, dog, the whole bit. And I wanted that with Joyce. Joyce wanted that too, for about three-years I guess. Then we moved next door to Billy and Bonnie Brent. Cute names. Joyce took to them instantly. I tried. I really did. I wondered where Bonnie was? Clearly not a third party to the destruction of my life. 

Love thy neighbor. Bonnie came home as I finished up with Billy. Joyce struggled frantically, but I had her tied down tight. I put my finger to my lips to signal her to shush. She couldn't of course. The terror of watching me with Billy sent her over the edge. Bonnie came in through the garage entry into their kitchen and called out to Billy. He of course would not be answering. I let her come into the living room to see the naked, mutilated body of her philandering husband and the struggling naked body of my wife. I told her about their illicit rendezvous and their lack of regard for either uf us. She looked at me as if she couldn't comprehend what was happening. I hit her with my crow bar across the temple. She went down but still looked conscious, though I doubt she was. My second blow assured that.

Love thy neighbor. In that moment looking on Bonnie's lifeless body I did. I pictured her coming home first and finding Billy at MY house naked with MY wife. I thought about how she would start with Joyce first instead of Billy like I did, and the unmentionable things she would do to Joyce's body. I wondered how she would dispose of me? Hit me over the head also? Maybe a quick throat stab with my carving knife. I found it oddly erotic and got an erection.

Love thy neighbor. Fuck that. Was never good at it anyway. I popped the battery from my drill and put a fully charged one in. Gotta love ion batteries. Bits of Billy lay all over the drill and through the bit. Joyce, I don't know, she looked catatonic. Maybe she stroked out during her struggles or maybe shock put her in that state. I wondered if she'd last as long as Billy. It didn't matter. My gun lay on the floor near my tool bag. I'll leave a note so they'd know it was me. Case closed. I squeezed the trigger and heard the drill whine. Joyce began struggling again. I smiled.