A Letter From a Killer Fan

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Mr. Derk is one hell of a loyal customer. He uses one brand of product for cooking cleaning and killing? So what could this man be witing a letter about.

Submitted: May 24, 2012

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Submitted: May 24, 2012



J.R.Wright Corp

3487 Knoxville road

Tulsa Oklahoma


To whom it may concern:

My name is Tyrone Derk. I have been a loyal customer since 1992. Bought everything from the tropical island cleaner to your more than super high tech knife cleaning kit. As an loyal custom it is expected that such dedication should be rewarded. How happy was I to be selected in your new V.I.P program. When a chance to try your latest addition to knives and cleaning solutions, I was more than thrilled to try it out. Unfortunately I had just cleaned my house before the package showed up. So what is a guy to do? So I made a mess.

With your laser sharpen chef knife I traveled the redlight district to find the “lucky one”to help in testing the new product. Giving up hope was not an option even if it meant driving for hours. To my surprise it only took ten minutes a new personal best if I don’t say so myself. She was one of the prettier ones on the street also a newbie the perfect candidate. Long legs with thick thighs, tight stomach and bouncy huge breast. Not sure if they were real or fake but all would have been revealed later. Rule number one in being a street whore should be never get into a car right away, make him pay for your services first. It was a lesson she will learn the hard way.

Knocking her out was easier than I thought, the squeaking clean pine scented floor cleaner took her out in less than 45 seconds (44.7 to be precise). Carrying her into the house was more of a chore than I thought. The portable folding dollie snapped in two as soon as I put the prostitute one it. Much to say I was not satisfied in dragging her ass into the house. After that disaster it was time to have a drink. The cup that was on TV, you know the one that says it would keep drinks cold for hours without ice... well turns to find out ice was need for my drink after 15 minutes of being in the glass, satisfaction guarantee my ass. The ready to eat insta meals fared no better. It tasked as if I was ate flavored cardboard,the night was off to a bad start.

After that unforgivable event I went to work in carving the bitch. She was still knocked out, at least I thought. Upon getting closer her eyes open and stuck me on the head the the never- stick- saute pan that was still in the protective wrapper. It was still in her hand when i realized the handle was broken. The test that was showed on the commercial says it would never break or rust and here it was broken before use. Grabbing her hair and banging her head on the basement floor created a small mess for the trial but not big enough. Sure she was knock completely out I started to carve her with the laser sharp chef knife. All was well until it hit bone. It took great force to cut through. The bone eventually snapped and so did the knife.

So I gave up cutting her into pieces and began to look at her breast. They were so round and perky. Even when laying on her back they never charged there shape. I had to find out if they where real. Pulling out the filet-o knife, I sliced under breast and started to slice up her neck and then around her left breast. To my dispare they were fake and thus gave me a odd question. What is a cheap ass whore doing with breast implants? At this point it didn’t matter she was dead or at least dying so it didn’t matter.

In the back yard was the mulch-o-matic that was purchased for me as a birthday gift. It works surprising well, one thing though it is very loud. I suggest sharpening the blades for people who uses for other things like me. Also it is difficult to remove guts and brain matter safely, there needs to be a auto clean system like in most of your products.

But anyway back to the basement. There is finally a mess for my V.I.P package. For the first time I open the cleaning box to see that it was the small travel size container, not a happy camper. Then to make thing worse the smell was awful it did not have a tropical scent like was promised. The smell reminded me of cooked road kill, not an exaggeration, dont ask me how i know , long story.Following the less than genius instructions I started clean the basement. The product was less than satisfactory it only pushed the blood around. Thank god there was some other cleaning products and some air freshener already downstairs. In short I am not very happy with some of my products that where purchased.

I’m sure you are wondering at this point why am I telling all of this. It's quite simple I want a refund for the purchases named in this letter. Its not like you haven't given a refund before but I wanted to absolutely be sure that I get mine. It would look bad for your company to just had this letter to the police. But then again how could this be real? How can you be sure I'm telling you the truth. It turns out that the woman that i mulched has a family member that works for you. Some oneon of the board of directors might have been using heras a little play thing. You can verify all you like but the result will be the same. You have 7 days from when you received before I give you a gift of your own.

7 days later a bag of mulch came in a burlap bag with a breast implant places on top with the serial number facing up. Needless to say Mr. Derk received his refund.

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