Author Topic: Tales from the Derpside: Knives  (Read 411 times)

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    • Lyca
on: 06:08 PM, 04/25/18

I'd been living in the Murder House around 4 months with no issues. (apart from me and Dennis constantly pranking each other) Crazy Maria was busy doing 16 hour shifts at the A&E in Queen Mary's Hospital at Golders Green. Me and Dennis were still working as Station Supervisors on the London Underground. (and yes, I know it should be Dennis and I but who the fuck talks like that in real life? sounds kinda pretentious if you ask me)

Anyways, me and Dennis were great friends. We both 100% mutually friendzoned each other from the start, and we both shared a love of pranks. Sure they got a little out of hand sometimes, but it kept us both on our toes.

At 26 Dennis was almost 7 years older than me and the only issue I had was that he would take my stuff sometimes. For instance if I bought a pizza and put it in the fridge for when I got home from work, I'd come home, open the fridge and see a note saying "Lyca, I took the pizza, here's £20 buy another one" and there would be a £20 paperclipped to the note he'd written in the fucking fridge. He did it with everything, mostly when he'd had a few beers. He once drank a quarter bottle of brandy I'd been saving and I was so mad I'd punched him, right in the arm as hard as I could. Dennis had just laughed and he had the kind of laugh that made me laugh too. Both of us never really took anything seriously for more than a minute.

Anyway the next time I bought brandy I put the bottle in the drawer under my bed so he couldn't get it. I'd gone to bed and was sleeping when suddenly I was woken up by my bed moving? wait, no, not moving Dennis was in my room, a little drunk and he was carefully (well as carefully as a big clumsy drunk could be) opening the drawer to get at my brandy.

He saw me open my eyes and started laughing... "shhhh just sleeeepppp" he mumbled "I'm just here for your brandy"

Somehow I managed to restrain myself from breaking the bottle over his big drunk head. I handed him the bottle with a tired, narky "just fucking take it and fuck off" and he took it from me and stumbled out of my room.

The next night I shut and locked my bedroom door while I slept. I told him never to come in my room and wake me again like that.

A couple of nights later I was woken up by the sound of someone jiggling my door handle.

'Fucking Dennis' I thought. The door was locked so he couldn't get in. I ignored him for a while hoping he would give up but the door handle kept squeaking and moving.

I very quietly crept out of my bed and put my hand on the lock. I was planning on carefully unsnicking it, then wrenching the door open and throwing myself at an unsuspecting Dennis screaming like a banshee. It would be so funny. I silently stifled a giggle, I remained deathly silent. It wouldn't work if he heard me unlock and open the door. I had one hand on the little lock ready to twist it and the other hand on the handle. I counted in my head, Three, two, one...

And right then I had a little thought that I was tired and didn't want to prank Dennis after all. I'd go back to bed and pretend to be asleep and eventually he would stop fiddling with my door handle. So that's what I did. I got back in my warm bed and went off to sleep.

I was woken by Dennis some hours later.

"Lyca" he shouted knocking on my door. "Come out of your room really carefully and don't freak out, don't touch anything, I've already called the police."  He sounded different to how he usually sounded.

I carefully unlocked my door and slowly opened it. I looked outside of my room and noticed that every knife we had in the house was lined up on the floor outside my room. We both liked to cook and had two sets of deadly sharp chef's knives and a set of steak knives, and yeah, we had a lot of knives. And right now they were all on the landing carpet in a neat little line all pointing directly at my bedroom door.

I asked Dennis if he heard anything and if it was him trying to get in my room around 1am. He looked at me wide eyed and told me that he hadn't even been home all night. His shift had finished at 11pm and the night foreman hadn't shown up for his shift so Dennis had volunteered to stay and do a double shift. He'd finished around 6am, arrived home to find a downstairs window had been forced open and lots of things moved around.

The police arrived and weren't even that bothered because no-one was hurt and nothing had been taken and nothing (apart from the lock on the window) was damaged.

But tons of things around the house were moved around and the way they were moved was like in weird shapes and patterns.

I shudder when I think of what could/would have happened if I would have wrenched the door open thinking it was Dennis.

And seeing as Dennis technically saved my life (I'd only locked my door because of him) I bought him another bottle of brandy.

and this one is 100% true.
« Last Edit: 06:04 PM, 04/26/18 by Lyca »