Really, I’m sorry.
I don’t know quite how it happened. I don’t know why it happened either. But the long and the short of it is that, well, I think this might be the end for you.
You see, I was having some trouble writing this bit of poetry I’d been working on. Don’t judge me: everyone writes poetry to themselves, especially in these lonely and reflective winter months. Anyway, I got a bit stuck, and so I thought I’d try out this stream-of-consciousness thing. You know, where you just write down whatever random thought comes into your head. It could be anything at all. In fact, I have it on rather good authority that it usually just comes out as a stream of unconnected nonsense words. Usually.
I’d never tried it before, but lots of people say that it can really clear up those stubborn writer’s block cooties. Plenty of professionals swear by it. And not just writers, but psychologists too. Apparently it’s a recognised technique for helping people to work through their issues and whatnot. Well, I thought, that can’t be so dangerous, can it? But I’m afraid that, in point of fact, it has turned out to be very dangerous indeed. For you.
Yes, it turns out that I’m going to kill you. Next Thursday. With a banana. Sounds pretty ridiculous, huh? Well, it’s not. It’s deadly serious. Literally. Although of course I would like very much not to kill you, I don’t really see what we can do about it at this point. Especially now that things have been set in motion. You see, try as we might to avoid this terrible fate of yours, it’s probably going to happen anyway. You know very well that I’m not one to get in the way of destiny, and if your destiny is to be encountered at the wrong end of a pointy piece of fruit, well, that’s just rotten luck.
But maybe you should stop thinking quite so much about yourself in all this. I mean, how do you think I feel? I’m the one who has to kill you. I’m the one who will have to clean up the mess afterwards. Perhaps you could spare a thought for me, or is that too much to ask? Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry. I know it’s sad and all, but everyone has to go sometime. So you may as well just accept the fact that I’m going to kill you next week. Because I’ve accepted it, and believe me I feel much more relaxed about it now. I have to admit, I was pretty worried at first. Primarily because, no matter how hard I tried, I really couldn’t think of a way in which I could feasibly kill you with only a banana. I mean, it just doesn’t make any sense, does it? Don’t worry though. Because I’ve thought of a way. And it won’t even hurt that much. You see how good I am to you?
You know, we could probably make a real day of it. We could go to the beach together, maybe ride the donkeys or something. Have some ice-cream. We'll have a little get together in the early evening, invite some friends over. Give you a good send-off. As I'm sure you'll remember, I have some mean cocktail recipes in my repertoire. Of course, you won’t have time to try them all.
Still, I don’t want to railroad you into doing anything. It’s only if you’re amenable. I mean, if you already have stuff planned for next Thursday, I wouldn’t want to get in the way. Or at least I don’t want to get in the way until about seven-thirty, when, as we’ve discussed, I kind of have to. Because I’ll be killing you. Sorry about that.