'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy Read Online Free

threw my things into the minivan and raced to Kennedy Elementary.
    Romi ran from the door of the building into my arms. She weighed next to nothing but always managed to knock me back a few steps. I didn’t mind. In fact, her strength would be a benefit to her training. Did I really just think that?
    “Virginia!” A booming contralto filled the air. I watched as the other parents scattered as soon as they heard the woman’s voice. Cowards.
    Great. Vivian Marcy. I really hated that bitch. President of the PTA, member of the school board, and for some reason, Romi’s room mom. I had grown up with Vivian Marcy. We’d been in the same class in school, and she’d been an evil witch there too. For years I’d prayed she would turn up on my hit list.
    Unfortunately, Vivian still hadn’t pissed off anyone enough to warrant a death contract. On several occasions, I thought of taking one out on her myself, but figured I’d get busted. Bombays aren’t allowed to come up with the targets, unless it’s family. Still, hope springs eternal.
    I knew I wasn’t the only one who hated her. Since childhood she had spread her withering gaze like a thick layer of rancid mayonnaise. (Hey! That kinda rhymes!) The bitch dominated everyone around her. I had stood up to her once, early in my elementary school years. She’d managed to spread the rumor that I had syphilis cooties. None of the other second graders had known what that was, but they were convinced they’d catch it if they talked to me. So I’d punched Vivian in the nose at recess. The next day, she had come down with a raging case of chicken pox, or as my classmates insisted—syphilis cooties.
    While I’d enjoyed the fact that kids had been afraid of me, let’s just say I didn’t get a lot of play dates. Fortunately, I’d had Dak and Liv.
    My dream hit would be to give Vivian syphilis cooties. A real mean, permanently scarring kind that would give her eternal body odor and halitosis. Of course it doesn’t exist, but I keep the candle of hope burning.
    “Well,” Vivian said as she closed in, “if it isn’t Virginia. Just who I was looking for.”

CHAPTER FOUR

    “Well, dear, for a gallon of elderberry wine, I take one teaspoonful of arsenic, and add a half a teaspoonful of strychnine, and then just a pinch of cyanide.”
    — Martha, Arsenic and Old Lace

     
     
    No one, and I mean no one, called me “Virginia.” Even my family respected that. Well, except for Mom. And if you saw her practicing with her throwing knives, you’d let it slide too. Somehow, Vivian had zeroed in on this when we were kids and did it just to piss me off.
    “What do you want, Vivian?” I said in clipped tones, hoping she would get the point.
    She didn’t. “I need you to bring four dozen cookies to the Halloween party.”
    Inwardly, I groaned. Outwardly, I think I smiled, kind of like a dog when you can’t tell if it’s smiling or snarling. “But that’s six weeks away. Why not tell me later?”
    Vivian arched her perfectly waxed right eyebrow. “I just wanted to make sure you bring home-baked cookies, not just something you pick up at the last minute at Hy-Vee.”
    “What?” My fingernails carved into my palms. I toyed with hitting her in the nose again. Maybe she would get chicken pox this time too.
    Vivian Marcy crossed her arms over her St. John velvet jogging suit. “It just seems more homey and personal when you actually put in the work, that’s all.”
    Put in the work? “Vivian, they’re five. They don’t know or care if the cookies are homemade.”
    “Really, Virginia.” She actually rolled her eyes, “I’m not asking for much. Just some cookies decorated like ghosts. That’s all!” She glanced down at Romi, who was eyeing her with suspicion. Good girl. “I have to go. The PTA’s executive officers are meeting in a few minutes. Don’t forget. Homemade cookies.” With a departing smirk, she turned on the heels of her Prada sneakers and headed back into