Little bitch. She had it coming.
I know everyone calls us freaks, but this was different. She was coming on to me, not the other way around.
I had walked into her camper after all the 'normal people' left. Went to say 'goodnight' if you get what I mean. She was fine with the sweet talkin' and the friendly massage, if you will.
But when I leaned in for a simple goodnight kiss, that bitch turned on me. Slapping me across my "filthy mug" as she called it. She called me a... she... she called me a "fuckin' cyclops!"
After all the time we'd been performing together! My so-called lovely assistant wouldn't be anyone's anything for much longer.
The show had always been a bit dangerous, and she didn't suspect a thing. A little necklace, a bouquet of roses, and a well-rehearsed apology can be pretty convincing I suppose. Nobody will miss the little bitch, and I doubt anyone can expect much accuracy from a drunken, one-eyed knife thrower.