Even when the monkey died they never invited us round. Charming, isn't it? I mean, you spend five years almost being joined at the hip, and then suddenly WHAM!, you're pushed aside for a couple who are younger, richer, and have more status symbols than Madonna on a shopping spree.

It's hard to describe just how angry it can make you. Well, think about it. Five years. Five of the longest years of our lives, if we're going to be blunt about it. Being at their beck and call, being their new little puppies, willing to follow them anywhere. I suppose you could say it was our own fault for letting it happen, but I'm not about to go punishing myself. Them, yes. Punishing them is, sorry, was, no hardship, but you should never punish yourself.

Even to just think back on it makes my blood boil. I mean, I killed that monkey for a reason, you know? It was their most precious little friend. Their companion. Their surrogate baby, I suppose. We knew how much he meant to them and we never said a bad word about him, even when the mangy little shit humped my husband's leg on every visit. Laugh it off, we thought. Yeah, well, let's see them laugh this one off, I thought!

They deserved it. It's not like I stalked them or anything. Yeah, okay, so I watched them for a few days. But I was waiting for the right time, you see. You can't go at these things blindly, you have to know what you're doing. I still can't believe how easy it was. And with his own golf club, too. I have to give credit where credit's due, though. If it wasn't for Glenn Close boiling a rabbit, I'd never have thought of adding him to the pan of chilli that stood on the hob.

It wasn't a very big pan, but I got him in there, nonetheless. The cleaver helped. For once I actually found myself grateful that the smarmy old sod fancied himelf as a chef. I thought of mincing him instead, you know, let them eat a little before they found the fur. But I always hated cleaning those bloody machines. Impossible! Still, it worked a treat, though. Wiped the superior smiles off their faces.

Copyright © K Wakeman