I'll See Myself Out
See, the mistake most people have made in the past is doing this in the cities, or even in suburbia. Things get picked up too quickly there, what with the pace of life and the number of people milling around. What I learned was, if you do it in these bucolic little villages, you just have a lot more time to get things right. Plus, nobody really talks to outsiders so it’s really easy to just move on and go again somewhere new afterwards.
Come, look out of the window, see how ideal this place is? Sorry, I’m forgetting, you can’t. I’ll describe it to you. The only thing you can see outside is trees, a hedge, and a lane only just big enough for a car. Not that any have passed. Oh look, a fox! How beautiful.
If you really push your face up against the glass - oo, that’s cold - and you don’t breathe too much, which I’m sure you’d be better at than me, you can just about see the thatched rooves on the old almshouses at the bend.
You’re right, I would have thought it was roofs too. But what do we know, eh?
Oh look at you, you’re dripping all over the oranges. Now where did I put that cotton wool? That’s the problem with all these pockets, remembering what you put where. Ah, there it is. Right, let's get that nostril all bunged up. Stay still.
This used to be a lot messier you know, before I discovered the old knitting needle trick. Don’t get me wrong, I do miss using a knife. So much more... what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, you know, it felt more involved, more tactile maybe. I never was one for words, probably why I work with my hands, you know? Anyway, the day I discovered how clean it was to just slide a needle up the nose, well, it changed things. So neat, so quick, less evidence, less screaming. Like you, you didn’t scream at all. Neither did your wife, which was good because it meant I could still surprise you. Your daughter did try, but, well, I’ve got these big hands inside these gloves you see, it was easy to cover her little mouth quick enough, before the noise got out.
There you go, no more blood. I think I’ll leave the splashes on the fruit though, something about the red on the orange under this table light.
It’s at times like this I dismay a little, you know, that I can’t take a photo. That’s another mistake people make: photos, souvenirs, trinkets, it’s all just evidence. It used to be that you didn’t need to worry so much about evidence in these villages, what with you only having one policeman and them usually being sat at the end of the nearest bar. Everything is too connected these days, it might take the local bobby a few days to find you, but as soon as they do they’ll have a CSI team down from town, dusting everything. I have to be so much more careful now. That’s progress, I guess.
Right, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. I understand you can’t say the same.
I’ll see myself out.