It has been five years, but all of the activities during these years could have been classified the same. They seemed the same to Kelly. Five years of doing the same thing? Does doing the same thing and the frequency of doing the same thing make it seem the same?
Finally, she tells herself that she believes it must be the men that make it not seem the same. If it’s not the name, if it’s not the game, if it’s not the frequency or the year; it must be the men that make it not the same, yes, the men.
But the men probably think it’s not the same, from their point of view. But it seems the same, from her point of view. After all, who else but Kelly can calculate the variables? Once these men are involved with Kelly, there is a finality that mitigates any future comparisons on their part.
So, in total, it is the same. If it is the same is now a given; then why continue? The same then is the game and the name of the game is the same, so to continue the same, that’s the name of the game? Some might say that’s insane!
Does the same motivate the continuance of the game or is there something not the same that drives Kelly’s robotic engagement in the game? So far the answer is no, the same equals the game, at least for now.
Recently, this is how Kelly passes the time driving on the Interstates when she tires of listening to her satellite radio. She becomes so lost in thought, she forgets to stop and eat.
Is it really not feasible to discuss the sameness factors with the numerous men violating her? Do their opinions factor into this whole discourse; they most certainly do not. She believes they are all the same; so why continue the game even if their opinions would probably be all the same? She knows that’s another given.
Maybe not, for the men, she’s almost positive she knows they always think it’s not the same. She sees it in their eyes as she goes down on them, her mouth filled with their shiny, erect and throbbing swensenbenders.
Their eyes tell her she is the latest three input semen receptacle for (what they perceive to be) their unique liquid juice. To Kelly, the juice tastes the same; the men shudder and moan the same, and the time frame from penetration to ejaculation is within a somewhat standardized average for each orifice. See, that too is all the same; why continue the game, if it’s all the same?
The men see it as not same, but Kelly begs to differ. They may not look the same, but they are the same, at least functionally the same. So everything is the same, the game is the same, so why continue the game?
Why are they the same? Kelly is always there and is quite alert when they peacefully fall into their satisfied post sexually conquest sleep. Ejaculated of their seminal energy, this energy (in its same liquid state) is now in her. She now has the power.
This is when Kelly takes out her Exacto knife and slits their throats from ear to ear with the precision of a surgeon.
As the blood flows, Kelly gets dressed and prepares to leave. She skillfully removes the belly button fuzz from her dying lover and places it into a plastic prescription like bottle. Down the road she then packages it up and sends it to her father in Mississippi. The packages remain unopened until she returns home for her quarterly visit. It seems that they are also the same, right down to the belly button fuzz, again, if the game is the same, then why continue?
It’s all the same, she continues to reason, the set up at the motel, the wigs, the taxi cabs, and the way she fades into the night without a trace. This well planned escape and how she finances herself (relieving the men of their cash); it’s all the same because it’s all part of the game: The Same Game.
Kelly then finally and totally realizes, without any doubt, that the game is the same, everything is the same, and the men are now the same, because they’re all dead. And when you’re dead, you’re dead.
Kelly makes the final decision and heads for home. After a few miles she stops for a donut and hot chocolate at a rest stop on the Interstate. It just happens to be a Boston cream filled donut. As she bites into the donut the cream fills her mouth…..yes it is all the same, she laughingly tells herself.
Stephen Obler is a retired NYPD officer who is currently a security consultant, private investigator and an adjunct professor at a small New York area college. His work has appeared in SNM Horror Magazine, Death Head Grin and The Flash Fiction Offensive. He is currently working on a pilot for a reality show and a screenplay for an action drama television series.