“How old are you?!”
I screamed at the defenceless man who was on the floor of my dining room, cowering in the corner as I waved the kitchen knife from side to side. He didn’t answer so I repeated.
“I said, HOW OLD ARE YOU?!!” I screamed even louder.
“Tttwen–twentyy fffive.”
“Do you smoke?…DO YOU SMOKE?!”
“No! No! Please..please let me go.”
…….
I guess I should explain how I got here.
Last night, I got a call;
“Mrs. Newton?” It’s hard to tell sometimes how old a stranger is over the phone, but I guessed she was in her early to mid forties.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Mrs. Newton, my name is Paula Sullivan, from GrantedWish Enterprises, I’m calling in regards to your application.”
“My application?”
“That’s right, I just need to ask you a few more questions before we can fully process and move forward to the next step. Are you free to talk?” She seemed nice. I guess it was just all part of her job though.
“I’m sorry but you must have the wrong person, I haven’t applied for anything… I don’t even know who you are.”
“Oh, okay, one second please, let me just, see what we have here,”
I couldn’t hear any noises but I assumed she was checking their database.
“Ah yes, here we are, your application was made earlier today at 07:14am, location; bedroom. Client, that’s you, states “I wish you would hurry up and fucking die already” which was in reference to your spouse, Mr. Lewis Newton. Do you remember making said statement, Mrs Newton?”
It was impossible for any one to of heard me say that, It was only me and my husband in the house.
I remembered how utterly pissed off I was when I said it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, silently brewing up rage in my sleepless state, while Lewis finished up his morning routine in the bathroom and got ready for work.
Thirty four years of marriage, and thirty four years of husband-snoring-induced-insomnia.
Lewis had a very well paid job with a very nice pension to boot, but it was a dangerous job, so Lewis got some of the finest life insurance there was to offer. It covered just about everything, barring an act of God, (earthquakes etc), and in the event of his death, not only would the life insurance pay out big time, but his firm would have to also.
Eighteen months ago, Lewis was diagnosed with a terminal illness and given an estimated 6 months to a year to live. I think it’s definitely wrong here when I felt elite happiness to those words.
At nine months however, Lewis seemed to miraculously recover his illness, with no solid explaination why, and everyone simply shrugged it off as some sort of miracle. That month was not without its loss though. Lewis’s older Brother, James, died tragically from stab wounds, after his house was broken into and robbed. The assailant stabbed James in both eyes, thirteen times in the chest and stole just one item according to his wife; his toothbrush.
So Lewis fully recovers and goes back to work, and I ever increasingly grow more tiredsome and more and more insane.
I will admit that I truly wanted him to die when I said those words too, but that just brings me back to how the hell anyone would of heard me say it?
“I’m sorry, who did you say you work for again?”
“My name is Paula Sullivan and I’m from GrantedWish Enterprises.” There was a hint of repeative and almost robotic tone in her voice that my brain quickly skipped over.
“Granted, wish, enterprises? And who is that exactly?” I wasn’t being mean to Paula, more defensive, if anything.
“Mrs Newton, here at GWE, it isn’t who we are, it’s what we are, and what we can do for our clients.”
“Okay. So what exactly do you provide?” I was bored, already drank half a bottle of wine and figured I’d carry on the conversation.
“We offer a service to our clients that, well, in as simplist form as possible, grants them their wish.”
“So you think my wish is for my husband to die?” I kind of chuckled at the end, I wasn’t laughing from tickled humour though, but more from my reserved hysteria.
“According to our records, Mrs Newton…yes.” She was now becoming more robotic by the sentence.
“…But…I said that…I was alone when,”
“At GWE, we take pride in our customer service; we listen to all of our clients and wait for when they need us the most. We then contact you, free of charge of course, and process the rest of your application over the phone. Would you like to continue, Mrs Newton?”
“Wait, hang on, slow down a minute. I don’t understand…I mean, I do, it’s just…”
“At GWE, you have nothing to worry about, we take care of everything, and you walk away with your wish fully granted. 100% gauranteed.” Her chirpy, robotic, high-pitched sales voice was intriguing me more and more.
“So let me get this straight, you’re a company that “listens” to people, and when they make a wish, you call them and make it happen?”
“That is correct.”
“Okaaayy, so, let’s say I carry on with this, application, how much exactly will this cost me?”
“Exactly? Let me just check that for you…for the death of one, Mr Lewis Newton, we require; one eyeball, six knife wounds to the torso, one right jndex finger, aaand an item of clothing, any item of clothing, from a nonsmoking male in his twenties, please.”
What?
“Wait, I’m sorry, what? Did I just hear that right?”
“For the death of one, Mr Lewis Newton, we require; one eyeball, six knife…”
“Okay, yes, thank you, so I heard it right then.”
There was an awkward silence between us while I quickly contemplated the thought of my husband dead, and me laying sound asleep atop a bed of money, and then,
“…Mrs Newton?…”
“Hm?”
“Are you interested in continuing with the application?”