The boy

Sometimes you just get fed up

Sweat drips off the edge of the boy's nose as he sits firmly on his knees scrubbing the floor with  a raggedy sponge. His dingy white shirt soaked in sweat, his dirty black pants ripped from ware, it's obvious this boy is poor. His eyes filled with pain as he stares down at the sponge sliding it around the floor. "That's a good little boy", the owner of the house Mr. Montly would always tell him. The boy would always replay Mr. Montly's words in his head and take confidence in his work. However, today was different. When Mr. Montly walked into the kitchen with his nose up and his expensive sweater vest and khaki pants something came over the boy. "Don't forget to clean behind the refrigerator", Mr. Montly said as he inspected it himself.  The boy was livid. "How dare he come in here and tell me how to do my job." This was a job the boy had to get to help support his family. He even dropped out of school to ensure he would get the job. The boy was through cleaning after rich snobs who could barely wash their own a*s. He was done being that fly on the wall waiting to be crushed on any given whim. In an instance he grabbed a  knife that was resting on the kitchen table damp from dish water. As Mr. Montly was walking out of the kitchen that's when the boy attacked. The boy drove the knife Into Mr. Montly's back over and over until he hit the floor leaking blood, but the boy wasn't done. Stabbing and stabbing until there was nothing left except a  mangled corpse and a pool of blood. With a psychotic smile the boy chopped off Mr. Montly's index fMr. Montly's right