In moments like this, Lisa wished she was one of those types who rejected authority figures.
Mr Dean was towering over her, his smile showing his crooked, rotting teeth. His greasy, slicked-back hair smelt like bananas. Lisa gulped down bile.
Seconds ago, he’d asked her to mop the spacious foyer floor. For no other reason than she was in his line of sight.
‘Yes, Mr Dean.’
On her way to the cleaning closet, she dreamed of how his head might look, detached from his body and sitting in the bucket.
Musings from Melbourne 
It wouldn’t be hard to fulfil her dream.
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Ooooh. Do you have some experience in head lopping? 😜
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It’s more knowledge of anatomy, physics, and sharp knives/wire slip knots.
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Sounds like a British drama series i just finished watching.
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It’s amazing how much leverage you can generate with the neck as the fulcrum and gravity acting on the body.
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Remind me never to get on your bad side 😜
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You’re not the first person to say that to me 😂
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Won’t be the last either I reckon
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Probably not…
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Loved the image of his head…. in the bucket! 💙
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