Angel: The Dog from Hell

When Gloria stepped through the door no one looked at her. Which was perfect. Perfect because tonight she was going to kill. She had been planning this move for months, maps hung in her apartment. Times and dates on calenders and little pieces of string little road ways for her plans. Pictures of the soon to be deceased, everything was planned.

Gloria was not the type to overly obsess about things. She was a slow mover, but not necessarily a good thinker. She worried that she would be caught, but had been working on not looking guilty. Her grand children would think her un-hinged, her daughter would try to put her in a home, and her son would not say a word. That of course was if they found out, she was not going to let that happened. No one was to know that she was the killer, no one.

It had all started when her neighbors, the Stevenson, having had their second child, decided that it was time to move to a bigger apartment. They still had her come over an babysit, and the old child Anna, called her Auntie Gloria, with lots of emphasis on the 'a' at the end. It was not really their fault that those new people, the new neighbors were so rude. Nor could she really blame them for moving in the first place. And it was definably not their fault for not knowing about the dog. But Gloria, felt some how that they should not have left her, should have stayed just a little longer.

Yet the real blame was with the new neighbors, primarily with the wife. She was, in Gloria's mind the most horrible woman in the world. Mary McDonald, who drank her first martini at 11:30 without fail, sooner on Mondays. Mary McDonald, who's rat faced boy had run over Gloria's poor flower beds with his bicycle. Mary McDonald, who's daughter talked non-stop to boys three years older than her, while flipping her hair and wearing too much make-up for a fourteen year-old. Mary McDonald, who went every where with that dog.

It was the dog that Gloria hated most of all. It was a small terror mix, with stubby legs and a whinny high pitched bark. This dog, named horribly Angel, was anything other than a demon. Gloria had never before hated as she hated now. She was going to kill that dog. It would be called a murder, Mary McDonald cared more for that ankle biting wretch than for her own children, definable more than her husband. If there were two things Mary McDonald could not do with out, it was her evil little dog and her martinis. After a month Gloria had had enough.

That's when the plan began. Slowly it had formed. The murder was the most important thing in the world, she was putting her whole self into it. Never before had Gloria even thought about hurt anyone or anything. She was passive almost to a fault. But that dog brought out something completely new in her and it was too strong to ignore. Gloria Evens was going to kill.

So as Gloria walked her way through the department store were Mary McDonald, she knew that today was the day. She purchased a new set of white sheets, to replace the ones she would use later. Than made her way to Mary's check out line.

"Well hello there neighbor." Mary McDonald's high pitched, slightly drunk voice bit into Gloria.
"Good morning, Mary." Gloria tried to act nice, it was hard.
"New sheet, uh?"
"Oh yes, I decided I could not put it off any longer, I just need a new set for the guest bed, before my son visits."
"When is he coming?"
"In two days." Gloria steeled herself to ask the question she needed the answer too. "How long you working today?"
"Oh until four, again."
"Well have a good rest of your day, hopefully it will pass fast."
"Thanks." Mary McDonald smiled her fake smile, and Gloria picked up her bags, smiling to herself.

That night after Mary McDonald's wailing screams of hysteria had stopped, Gloria went out back of her garage. After an hour of digging, something that in her younger years would have only taken 15 minutes, Gloria placed a bundle covered of bloody sheets into the dew soaked ground. Gloria happily filled in the hole, patted the dirt with her shovel, and with a smile on her face returned the shovel to its place and went off to bed.

Early the next morning, Gloria was smiling over her cup of coffee, when the police arrived across the way. At first she thought nothing of it, till the ambulance arrived, than she got worried. Surly Mary McDonald had not suffered physical harm from the loss of her beloved hellish dog.

Less than a week after Mary McDonald's funeral, at which Gloria Evens had shown extreme anguish, Gloria moved out of her beloved house and into the home her daughter had been trying to get her into for several years. No one understood why she had suddenly changed her mind.