Celebrate!
Today's Five-Minute Freewrite is so special because it is the 100th daily prompt, and 
Thank you 
Devil Dog
It was Saturday morning and there was blood everywhere. Which sucked big time because I’d had plans to go to a concert in the park and that was not going to happen now. Just my luck Uncle Billy--the drunk fuck--would fall off a ladder today.
That ladder had been in the garage forever. Just rotting away. I told the mad old fucker to leave it until we could buy a new one from the store, but he just wouldn’t listen.
It was my fault, really. If I’d gone to the damn store and gotten him another fifth, he wouldn’t have been searching the attic space for possibly hidden bottles to quench his thirst. You could say I was the one to blame.
Or I was the one to thank.
It was kinda funny how it happened though. There he was perched atop the ladder reaching out, straining, fumbling for the non-existent booze bottles when the dog came careening past.
He’d always hated Muffin, the stupid ass purse dog my step-mother carried around everywhere she went. I’d always hated Muffin too--one thing we had in common--but now? Muffin was alright with me.
Muffin had come flying around the corner yapping and hit the side of the ladder. As Billy reached out to grab the side of the attic space, the ladder toppled and he plunged down, landing on Muffin and ending those infernal yaps for good
The evil stepmother was gonna be so pissed about Muffin.
Probably about her brother’s blood all over the white tile too, but mostly about Muffin. I started to think what could be done to get me out of this shit storm when I spied one of her million freaking scented candles.
So without further ado, I grabbed one and lit it. You need a nice atmosphere when cleaning up uncle and dog guts, you know. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed the bleach and popped on a nice classical music CD.
I hadn’t gotten through the first roll of paper towels when my bitch step-sister got home.
“Holy shit! What the hell did you do, you psycho freak?”
“Calm down, I didn’t do anything. But the cops will probably look at it just like you did.”
“What have you done to Muffin?” she exclaimed in horror. “He was mother's favorite and my little snuggle monster.” She sighed, and looked at me in that annoying way that big sisters do.
“Give me a paper towel then, let's clean up this mess.”
Fin
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