*Click clack click clack*
Christian Louboutin red-bottom heels clicked on the floor with attitude as Christy pretended that the entrance to her local Walmart was a red carpet event. She always made it a point to dress her best anywhere she went, in case she saw someone who spit on her. Her looking good was how she spit on them.
A tall, dark man with a backwoods hoodie looked her up and down as she searched the store isle for what she was looking for. He might have been handsome, she hadn’t noticed; she was done with men. Her hands found the duck tape before her eyes, as her mind was preoccupied.
Flashes of a memory bombarded her troubled mind. Walking into her home she shared with her husband, surprising him by coming home early with a pizza and bottle of wine. Noticing her 4 month old daughter Libby, abandoned in front of the TV, watching Elmo. Coming to the steps, seeing the faux fur floor mat at the bottom of it stained with spilled wine. The corner of her eyes catching a red lacy bra that clearly wasn’t hers (drastically larger than her modest 34 b bra size) hanging from the top of the railing. A matching thong sat lonely on the top step. The look on her husbands face as she walked in on him pile driving a woman half his age. The memory stuck in her head replaying like a broken record, and she wanted nothing more than to feel something about it. So she was going to buy it, Rage.
Some of her friends had recommended to her local feeling dealers, but she decided to buy legit.
Feeling maps was a local delivery service that brought the product right to your door. It sounded simple enough, but she wanted another excuse to get dressed up and look like a bad bitch making men who could never have her drool, so she decided to go to an emotions dispensary herself. After an outfit change and touching up her makeup, she decided some company would do her good. It only took one FaceTime call and about five minutes before her best friend Audrey was at her door.
“Hey bitch, what’s up! Let’s go get you some of that good shit and go key that bastards car or something, it’ll be great!” She pulled Christy in for a hug, sniffing her shiny, black hair.
You smell good, what is that, Dulce And Gabanna? We gotta get you some rebound dick and your ass looks great in that skirt! She exclaimed, grinning with merit.
Christy chuckled and hugged her back, hoping that her eccentric companion would keep her mind off of her husbands epic betrayal.
The five minute drive flew by, they sauntered into Mentalroma, a local emotions dispensary. She showed the the burly man in a security uniform her ID and medical recommendation, and stepped by the large threatening looking coke-white pitbull he had on a leash next to him. The beast growled at her menacingly and she shuddered, hoping he couldn’t smell her fear. Following the hallway around to a back room, she was surprised to see how many people were casually shopping for drugs. She remembered a time where if anyone wanted to buy emotions they had to do it on the street, and that had dangers due to people making it incorrectly or getting the percentage wrong, which could wreck havoc on one’s psyche.
“So what emotion are you looking for today, and how would you like to receive it?” The red headed lady with large breasts spilling out of her top inquired. Christy blinded twice and gave a blank stare.
“Chrissy, she means how do you want to take your Rage. Do you want a joint, an edible cookie, a disposable feeling cartridge. Which one do you want to try first?” She said it as though she knew this wouldn’t be a one time thing for Christy. Audrey got high regularly, on almost every emotion, but never jealousy. She had forewarned her to not ever try that one, especially with her husbands recent adultery involving a younger woman.
“Okay, so to start you off let’s go with a two gram joint. 20% mental capacity manipulation, if we need to adjust any doses we can do so. If at any time you experience any adverse side effects, discontinue use immediately. Keep out of reach of any children or pets at all times. Please just sign this waiver,” the busty woman handed her a clipboard and pen with a brain as the clicker.
“And that’ll be twenty dollars and forty eight cents. Since you’re a first time buyer, you get a free peanut butter rage cookie and a sticker. Enjoy!”
She inserted her pink debit card into the reader and in no time was out the door with her drugs in a brown paper bag.
Christy zoomed down the highway going 100, her best friend screaming the lyrics to Ambitions As A Rida by Tupac. Audrey was the most free spirit Christy had ever encountered. It was uplifting, almost gave her a feeling of ecstasy. Not quite though, you had to buy that in this dimension; nothing was free, especially not cheap thrills. She swerved through lanes in her old blue Bentley, an emotion close to adrenaline pumping in her veins. She probably just had to pee, you couldn’t get that free either.
“I won’t deny it, I’m a straight rida, you don’t wanna fuck with me. Got the police bustin at me, but they can’t do nothin to a g,” Audrey sang with heart. Christy smiled modestly and yelled “you’re ridiculous!” But Audrey couldn’t hear over her terrible rapping and the bass slapping aggressively.
She reached her apartment in two minutes with her lead food (it was a five minute drive), and grabbed her brown bag along with the plastic Walmart one with duck tape and some ropes inside.
“Okay Audrey, let’s get fucking livid. I think I wanna try this cookie. Split it with me?” Christy bat her lashes at her friend, knowing she would be down for anything.
“Down bitch, give it here!” Audrey beamed, holding her hand out for the cookie and bounced up and down like a child. She split the cookie in half when Christy placed it in her hand, immediately biting into it.
“Mmmm! This shit is good. I wonder what they put in it to make it taste like that.”
“Drugs, Audrey. They put drugs in it.” Christy replied dryly. She ate her cookie slowly, with self control (Audrey demolished hers, and licked the crumbs off her fingers).
Within an hour or so, neither of the exuberant friends could feel the drugs. So they decided to take more. Audrey picked up a joint and a lighter, and put the joint in her mouth, covering it with one hand and lighting with another. She inhaled sharply, holding it in for a few seconds and coughing it out, holding her chest. The joint was then passed to Christy and she copied her partner in crimes actions. After the joint was out, Christy picked up the packaging for the edible cookie. On the back it said “may take up to two hours for the effects to begin.”
“Hey Audrey!” Christy called from to her from the bathroom nervously.
“We fucked up!”
When Audrey realized what they had done she laughed hysterically. Within thirty minutes they were both feeling way more than rage. They were outraged, livid, and beyond pissed the fuck off.
“How fucking DARE he! That lying cheat, I’m gonna kill him and I’m gonna take all his fucking money!” Christy screamed, with tears of anger splashing onto her sharply contoured cheek bones.
“Hey girl… calm the fuck down. I thought we were just going to slash some tires and make him call himself a cheating pig on Facebook live. Actually, you know what… fuck him. Let’s fucking get this dirty bastard!” Audrey smiled mischievously, though her eyes showed her true emotions; rage, and lots of it.
The adventurous two zoomed off in the car playing music about murder and drugs to their victims work place. It seemed fitting, as they had duck tape, some rope, and a Glock 9 in the trunk. They flew past a cop that couldn’t be bothered any less by their speeding; the police system was extremely corrupt in this dimension, and they only arrested those who went up against the monarchy. In no time they reached eighth street, and saw her husbands tiny chiropractor office on the corner next to a seven eleven. He was a shark, charging top dollar for mediocre service to old people in pain who didn’t know any better. She should have known he was a scum bag from the start.
Christy and Audrey hopped out of the car looking like they stepped out of an action movie scene. They both had their hair in braids, and wore Halloween masks to hide their faces from the businesses security cameras. Audrey wore a Jason mask and Christy wore a Chucky’s Bride mask, naturally. They had on all black, tight, leather jumpsuits and black Air Force ones. The trunk popped open, revealing an abnormally large briefcase and a binder stuffed with documents. The resentful pair bombarded into the establishment, and saw her husband bent over in a corner. Christy threw the briefcase on a desk along with the documents and shouted,
“Hey, you fucking pig, guess who’s here!” Her husband jumped up, clearly startled and faced them.
“Oh no Christy, why did you bring this crazy bitch,” he groaned, recognizing her best friends dirty blonde hair.
“Because sweetie,” she cooed back at him.
“We’re about to fucking end you and take all your money, then we’re going to Cancun to get married and raise our daughter, that’s why. You stupid prick.”
“Please, just let me go and I swear I’ll give you all the money you want!” The man pleaded with them, tied to a plastic yard chair. Audrey huffed in anger and pulled duck tape out of the briefcase.
“Oh, shut this asshole up baby cakes! I can’t stand his obnoxious whining,” Christy yelled, as her words echoed through the building. Audrey quickly followed her best friend, and new lovers request and duck taped their victims mouth shut.
“Okay, so here’s what’s gonna happen hubby,” Christy started.
“You’re going to sign these papers that declare everything you own will go to me and our daughter when you die, and none of it will be going to your family. Those bitches never approved of me anyway. If you don’t do it I’ll set your fucking hair on fire along with your pubes. Sound good?”
His eyes widened and he mumbled inaudible through the duck tape. Christy untied one of his hands and handed him a paper and clipboard. He signed instantly, probably terrified of losing his precious receding hair; since he was going to buy plugs with his next paycheck. Audrey smiled fakely.
“Perfect! Now you’re going to write a suicide note, thirteen reasons type of deal. Can you handle that cunt? Or do I have to set fire to more than just your hair. I’ll pop a cap in your cheating ass!” She yelled threateningly, grabbing a Glock nine from the briefcase and pointing it to his skull. He soon wrote that up as well, claiming to be taking his own life out of guilt for his adultery to his loving wife.
Christy ripped the duck tape off of her husbands lying mouth, pulling some hair off of his upper lip and he squealed in pain. What a little bitch, she thought to herself. Audrey untied his ropes and stuffed them in the briefcase. She handed the gun to her soon to be wife, and went to turn the sign on the door to “closed” instead of “be back in five!” She returned to see the pathetic man on his knees, looking Christy making him deep throat the barrel of her gun. He was lucky she didn’t make the dirty bastard sit on it, I would have, Audrey thought.
“Okay, let’s get this shit show on the road, we don’t want to miss date night. I got us a babysitter and everything!” Audrey yelled. Christy stared daggers into her husbands skull with so much Rage, you could feel it bubbling up and swirling around the room.
“Any last words, cheating prick!” She screamed at him.
“Her pussy tasted like fucking raspberries, you cunt.” He spat on her face. She roared, seething with Rage more than ever before. She wanted to shoot him in the dick, but that would blow the whole suicide thing. She shoved the Glock in his dirty mouth like a cock in the porn he watched frequently and shot through his skull. His brains splattered out onto the clock behind him.
