Murder is Legal – Killing a Kid is a Misdemeanor (Story by R.C. Peris)

There it was. In the New York Times and The Washington Post.


Murder is now legal. In a big fat bold font, you can’t miss even if you need reading glasses. Murder is legal. As long as you kill adults. If you kill a kid, not quite legal. It’s a misdemeanor punishable by ten days in jail. Also, another footnote to the law. You can’t leave the bodies lying around. Health issues you know. You have to wrap the bodies in plastic and call the authorities or bury them yourselves. If you fail to do either you could be fined up to 2000 dollars. Making murder legal was pushed into law by the NRA lobby. With all the gun massacres, they and their gun-happy followers were looking a little shabby. But with murder legal, guns are just lovely things that help you kill. They help you accomplish something legal.

I consider myself a nice person. I go to church at least once a month. I have been married for twenty years. I have three children. I like to believe I wouldn’t be a murderer. That I would make a moral decision to not murder, but that’s silly. If it’s legal why can’t it be morally good? I went to the closet and opened the lockbox. My husband kept a gun in there. The gun was gone. Interesting. I went to the kitchen and got a butcher knife.

My mother-in-law rang the doorbell at noon. She had a beakish nose and sharp chin. She was always telling me how to run my home.

“It’s mayhem out there,” she said. “Screaming and sirens. Have you heard the news? Be a dear and get me some tea. Maybe a splash of brandy. Be quick about it.”

I started to walk to the kitchen and then I turned and stabbed her. Once in the stomach and once in her shrunken chest.

“Why would you kill me?” she asked as she coughed up blood.

I shrugged. “It’s legal and I really don’t like you.”

Suddenly, my husband appeared in the doorway. “What the hell did you do to my mother?” He had his gun in his right hand. He lifted his arm and fired. He missed me. I could feel the heat of the bullet as it just passed my cheek. I ran. My husband grabbed me and I managed to stab him. He dropped the gun and I rushed towards it. I fired a single round into his stomach. That’s when my teenage son appeared at the top of the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re such a bitch Mom.” He staggered down the steps. He was my firstborn, but honestly, since becoming a teenager I really didn’t like him anymore. He stashed porn, smoked cigarettes, and constantly told me I was an idiot. So I shot him too. Then I remembered that was still a crime. Oh well. I can handle ten days in jail.

There I was. On a Sunday morning. Three dead people in my home. Three people I murdered. I think I am a good person. It’s strange though. The law against murder really did prevent murder. I retrieved trash bags and saran wrap. I dug holes in the backyard. I cleaned up the blood with bleach. It took me hours. By 2 AM I was done. I checked the New York Times again. There was a new headline.


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