Bernice had spent ages (possibly years) plotting the undetectably best way to murder her brother. You see, their mother was old. And rich. Exceedingly rich. Bernice wanted it all.
Their mother – whose name was Hilda – lived in the most beautiful house on a beautiful hill with a beautiful garden and even more beautiful view. Bernice’s brother – whose name was Jules – had his eyes on the house. “You keep two thirds of the money and I’ll take a third of the money plus the house.” On the surface Bernice agreed, but… Bernice wanted it all.
Things were getting urgent. Hilda was all of fifty-nine – which to younger people seemed old. She still lived alone and managed well, but all it would take would be for an epidemic to sweep the world and she’d be packing her bags for eternity like there was no tomorrow. The urgent murder of Jules would not only cover Bernice in good fortune but would in all likelihood provide enough grief to finish Hilda off.
Jules was unmarried – in fact totally unattached. There would be no spouse or partner or kids challenging Bernice’s windfall. Then Lady Luck stepped in. Jules took ill and died without any prompting whatsoever from Bernice.
Mother Hilda was grief-stricken. But would Hilda die? Oh no! Bernice described her mother as “that old cow who was no good anymore for milking but who wouldn’t kick the bucket.”
Then the worst happened. Oh tragedy of tragedies. Some things are on a par with catastrophic viruses. Widow Hilda got married; this time to a man much younger than herself.
“Is there no justice in the world?” screamed Bernice. “Do I not matter? Under no circumstance will I ever consider that usurper to be any sort of stepfather. Great balls of fire, he’s about my age and riddled with covetous ambition.” She loathed him with a vengeance.
Bernice began to plot.
Bernice didn’t plot fast enough…the young husband…lets call him Bruce. Bruce killed Hilda in the garden with a hoe and then ran Bernice off the road killing her. Bruce is a rich and wealthy man now.
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And living on some exotic island paradise, too, I’ll bet.
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Herb you must know this “Bruce”
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lol. Sadly, by reputation only.
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Although he has said that if I ever visit his island I should have “tea” with him.
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I would be careful about having “tea” with this Bruce who lives on an island paradise.
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Perhaps I should bring my own? Sort of as an offering and also to watch every step of its preparation?
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You’re all starting to sound like Nancy Pelosi.
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Ouch! To me that is not anything like a compliment.
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It wasn’t meant to be a compliment!
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Oh! Good job, then.
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You’re all starting to sound like Nancy Pelosi.
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And what a nasty one that is.
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Well, I did tell him that if we had tea, I would pour.
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We will all pitch in…we have to do our part.
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lol
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You’re all starting to sound like Nancy Pelosi.
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Now that is just mean Bruce.
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Mean is what I’m good at.
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It appears so…knocking poor Hilda in the noggin with a hoe.
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What was the name of the hoe?
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Nancy
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LOLz!
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Yea I’m neither Republican or Democrat…I just don’t like her.
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She’s better when she’s drunk.
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I hope she has enough ice cream.
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With those masks on there’s no hole for ice cream.
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Not the way she wears it!
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Must be an improvement.
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Anything possibly would (improve).
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I am worried about your soul Bruce🙂
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Ha ha! I say my prayers!
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What a relief!
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!!
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The clear course of action for Berniece would be to seduce Hilda’s husband, convince him to kill Hilda and then marry him. Once they are married she will have ample opportunity to off him, and all of the money will come to her.
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An excellent plot – I do like the way the plot thickens.
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Like a well stirred pudding.
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I can smell blood in the very air
Nay, burnt flesh, but from where
It emanateth I know not.
I shall wait for the plot
To fester and rot.
I shall wait for the Dogstar
To descend with torpor.
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Well, I have googled for a source of the apposite quotation to no avail!
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Sir, the world at large, or the World Wide Web to be precise, takes no note of lowly scribblers such as this commentator. No wonder you met nada.
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I’m sure the WWW takes great note of lowly scribes and stores all such information on a Cloud.
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This plot is clearly going somewhere – you need to write a sequel. Perhaps Hilda gets pregnant? Miracle of all miracles.
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Hilda’s pregnancy would indeed be miraculous. But, as you know, I only ever deal with facts in these stories!
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Bernice and her stepfather sound perfect for each other. They should plot together, right up until they find out Hilda left her entire estate to charity.
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I nearly did the same turn in the story as you suggested! Great minds think alike!
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