It’s just Old Man Bishop and me left now, the rest of our families have killed each other. When I’m done writin’ this note Ima kill Bishop myself. I figure this whole deal is his fault. He was the one always cryin’ about what the Government was sprayin’ the island with. They always said it was some pest control somethin’ or other, but Old Man Bishop would shove that stubby-ass finger of his in yer face and scream that it was mind control juice, like what they sprayed on his boys in Nam.
Way I figure it that’s why the government sprayed that purple shit on the island last Monday. A ways of punishing Bishop for all his shoutin’ and lyin’. That’s why my wife killed his daughter with the hatchet and tried to serve her up for Monday supper. We didn’t have none, mind. We was all too busy holding back Bishop’s wife from carvin’ up my Maggie with that steak knife. By the time we finally put her down we wasn’t much hungry.
Bishop himself hasn’t been around much. See Bishop would always wear his old gas mask when they’d spray, and the kids said he ain’t taken it off since Monday morning. We ain’t seen him, and little Petunia Bishop said her granddad tried to stop her grandma from carvin’ us up, but grandma sliced at Old Man Bishop and that shut him up fast. It don’t matter though. Ima find him and cut his throat open, mask or no mask. This island ain’t that big.
Did I mention he used to let his dogs shit on my property and not clean it up? I’d kill him for that alone if Petunia hadn’t bit my finger off this morning. Now I’ll kill him for both.
Judd Deslaurier, 2 Island Road, Smith’s Island