Mugwort’s School for Murderers

1 March 2021

  • I ran through the hallways trying to get to class. It seemed like one of those scenes in a movie where the main character is comically late. But it wasn’t I was a mess. A real life mess.
    Madeline S
    2/5 3:00pm
  • "T'ch" ticked the clock just as I barged into the classroom. "1 minute late, Mr. Bruner. But what should I expect from a boy who can't even murder properly?" The teacher eyed me with his cold glare and placed the muzzle of his pistol on my forehead. "I would be doing a service to
    Kara S2/6 9:27am
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  • the entire world of serial killers by murdering you right here, right now,” he said. “But it would be too easy, and I’m teaching this class to help the new generation of murderers learn proper technique.” He lowered the gun and gestured me to my desk. Breathing a sigh of relief,
    Sunny A
    2/7 7:52pm
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  • I sat down. What was I going to do? I was failing this freaking class! What did I have to do to impress this guy? So far I had failed miserably, and our final projects were due in two short days. A minimum of three victims was the requirement, plus a unique method of killing.
    Robin D
    2/11 4:15pm
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  • That’s when it struck me. I’d build a human-sized mousetrap, in the shape of a fondue restaurant. I could produce at least a dozen victims in the first week of business!
    Sean K
    2/12 10:15pm
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  • It wouldn't be killing the customers of course, that'd be unsustainable. It'd be passers-by, drawn to the spectacle of the restaurant's unique selling point, the late-night naked fondue wrestling. I would carefully select my victim as they gawped in at the garish extravaganza
    zeej Q
    2/14 9:11pm
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  • that took place every Monday. By Friday there was blood in the fondue that we’d have to change the advertisements to Jell-O wrestling. It was garish but it drew a crowd. I liked to choose women with muscle and heft. I liked the challenge. Skinny coke heads were a dime a dozen but
    Tracie+L M2/26 9:38pm
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  • I wanted something meatier. So there I was, a bantamweight, going toe-to-toe with Mama Theresa. She was 300lbs if she was an ounce, sores on her top and bottom lips. I stared intensely as I wiped cheese from my brow. Tonight’s about justice I thought. Then, the dinner bell rang.
    Sam B
    2/26 11:54pm
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The End