FanStory.com - Changing of the Guardby Karen Cherry Threadgill

My Aunt Margaret died in a car accident leaving me with storage boxes and lots of questions. She was an avenger. No one knew about her secret life. She wanted me to pick up the reins it seems.

Beverly Mae Miller here. I am reading about Haviland King, what a scrawny misbegotten excuse for a life he is. I found his entire file in her Suburban. She had a secret hiding place, the back seat lifts up and there is storage. I noticed this when I was cleaning out the Suburban, I touched a little switch while scrubbing at what I though was a stubborn bit of food. A locked box contains her current files was revealed. There are three more in here.

This twisted sister beats all. He is a true piece of work.

His mom was half a bubble off plumb (nutty as a fruit cake). She didn't always remember she had a kid and therefore forgot to feed him. So, he slightly resented his dear Mom. Not, apparently, his father, who forgot he had a son entirely, but just his sick mother. And he really resented never getting birthday presents.

So, once he was tossed out at eighteen from the latest foster home, he decided the thing to do was kill some women as payback for not getting gifts. Sure, that seems perfectly normal.

He selects a lady in her mid-thirties as his victim, since his mom was thirty-five when they carted her off to the funny farm. He was thirteen.

Well, he found his dad. Seems he never knew she was pregnant. He gave him a stay away from my real family check of $100,000.00 and is paying for Haviland's college.

His dad Grover King was a bit sad when he was told that his mom Helena King managed to commit suicide on his eighteenth birthday. Not enough to include him in the family, but enough to cough up a new Silverado. Happy birthday. Poor Haviland.

He is visiting (I mean stalking) his dad's family.They have an estate in Dallas. He hangs around glomming on their life.He has not been spotted by the family.He is noticing my raggedy car again. This is the second time he has seen it. He will feel the need to leave. The watcher cannot abide being watched. It doesn't do to have too many eyes around.

Before I came here, To see what we what he was up to, I searched his apartment. I am dressed up as a man. An exterminator as a matter of fact. Haviland's apartment looks pretty normal. I am videotaping everything. The kitchen looks plain and ordinary. Except for the cup on the top shelf that holds four rings. I assume the rings belong to the women he dispatched.

Such a bad boy is our Haviland. Under his mattress is a journal. Good grief Myrtle! He is a chatterbox on here. I will have to tape it as I do not have time to read it all. He went on and on about how he was neglected and illtreated. So, to make himself feel better he kills a substitute mom every year on his birthday.

Spoiler alert! All women are evil, he is due every consideration. By everyone. All the time. That is the abridged version. He does to enormous lengths to expound on this.

My aunt said that he will never reform because he is broken inside. He has been offered all kinds of therapy at no cost to him, and he would not avail himself of any of it. So,he is toast.

My aunt has every kind of tool there is so, I am packing her suburban with two shovels, one pointy, one not. I will need to get ropes, twine, lights and tarps. I am not going to have him starve. I will just bury him alive. Even if I had the time I would not torture him, I do not have it in me.

He goes to the Lion and Lamb every Tuesday for trivia night. I joined last month, I was dressed up to match the other women he had chosen. So, tonight is the night. I am not as brave as my aunt, so I have Chauncy for cover.

With the hole all dug out, I now will play the part of Amanda Martin, a thirty-five-year-old mother of a teen age son. He has watched me carefully every Tuesday night for a month. I love trivia but it has gotten increasingly creepy. Tonight, he was watching me with his beady eyes.

I couldn't concentrate on the questions. My mates were not best pleased. We won. I only missed two out of twenty anyway. I told them they were ungrateful whelps and I was quitting. Margery Mae Millhouse was done here.

Then, the moment came. Haviland swanned over and offered to buy a drink for the winner. I could not refuse him could I? He was practically giddy. He is one sick puppy.

I said I would have whatever he was having.When he went to the bar, he ordered two whiskey sours. I hope his stuff works fast. I don’t want to have to drink much of that awful tasting drink.

Chauncy acted drunk and grabbed his attention, while I switched glasses. Haviland did me a huge favor by guzzling down his drink. I was sipping mine slowly just in case.

He started getting all foggy, so Chauncy said, "Haviland old buddy, I better pour you on home!" He loudly laughed, I grabbed his jacket, and we left. Chauncey almost lost his moustache and wig when Haviland started giving a bit of resistance.

Thankfully, my aunt had a plethora of pharmaceutical shots handy for making people behave quietly with complete instructions attached.

I want him to be awake when I bury him. He should be fully aware of what is happening to him. Chauncy and I trussed him up good. I need to get a lot stronger before I can handle things on my own.

I need more classes in core building, self-protection, and karate maybe. My aunt was prepared for all this, I was not.

Haviland was in the open grave and coming to. I told him all his misdeeds that I knew of and said he was lucky. I did not have the time to wait around for him to starve, so he would just be buried alive and that would only take minutes. It’s a shame really, as he deserves to suffer so much more.He was wiggling around like I assume the women did. He could butt walk pretty good. But not to any real purpose. I made sure of that.

I delivered him to his final rest by myself. Chauncy does not need the actual death on his conscience. We packed up and left. Chauncy asked if I was going to be okay. I thought I would be. But I will need to get a bit tougher before I do more. Don’t you agree? The next one is a doozy.

Twins.