One Wonderful Day
How do you solve a problem like Maria? Duh, you kill the bitch. Or at least buy her a new outfit. Unfortunately, the bitch was already dead. More unfortunate, Maria was both stubborn and overconfident, she could never be told anything. I shot glares at her body as I stood over her casket, sipping red wine from a glass. She wore a baggy yellow dress that wrapped around her small frame like a Hefty bag. She'd picked that dress out months before she kicked it. I glanced around, scanning the crowd for similar reactions.
I never loved my cousin. Understatement, I hated the bitch. Underline. Exclamation. My mother had dragged me here kicking and screaming. Nobody liked her. She was a horrible person, a ghoul in every sense of the word. News of her tragic heart attack had passed through the family like the peaceful calm after an orgasm. Now before you get on your sissy high horse, know this: I'm not bitter and I was never jealous. I was jealous of what she had and squandered. My own mom had paid her more attention. And for what? I was just as pretty and ambitious, as said by my uncle as he buried his stubbled face between my twelve year old thighs during a late night visit.
I dumped the rest of the wine on her dress. Frankly, it was an improvement. Rest in hell you old bitch, I thought. My mom came to take me back to my seat.