Helena’s To-Do List

There were 19 things on Helena’s to-do list for the day. She knocked out 7 of them before lunch, and a further 9 by supper time. That left 3 items for the evening. 1 was easy: vacuum the entire house. Not a problem. The next was easy but time-consuming: reorganize her recipes.

Helena couldn’t conceive of a life without order. Every action needed to be accounted for in her journal, or she would completely lose it. She had to constantly turn down plans with her friends because her schedule was packed, daily. “Take a day off for once!” Her friends begged.

‘A day off? Impossible,’ she mused as she flicked through the upteenth channel that morning. Her life was ordered. Routine was her friend, her safety blanket. There was no room for chaos, frivolity and discord. No. She liked her life just as it was. Or did she?

The perfect opportunity to wreak some havoc and fully upturn her carefully organized life had just arose. A possibility to impose utter mayhem upon her next door neighbor. She loathed him with a passion; he constantly reeked of pickles and pelted her windows with chewed up food.

Late at night, tipsy on one too many gibsons, she poured gasoline onto his lawn, swirling the gas can around with relish to write how she felt about her nasty neighbor. In the morning the grass was dead, but to her dismay she saw her message read "EAT HITS".

That is how he found himself being served a 12 inch of Michael Jackson’s Thriller, with butter and syrup, for breakfast.