I didn't mean to do it. I need you to understand that. It was an accident, a knee-jerk reaction. I couldn't control myself, it just happened so fast. One moment I was admiring the street art, the next I had my hand over her mouth, pulling her back into the depths of the alley; Vicky, I mean. I was just so ANGRY. I remember having my hands round her throat and then... and then nothing. She was just... there... not breathing... Dead-Vicky.
I mean, what was I to do? When you're confronted with a self-made cadaver, you have two options: call the cops and fess-up or discretely deal with the body. I chose option 'B'.
Luckily I was moving house at the time and had the rent of a transit. I reversed in quickly, threw her in the back and pulled away, panicking.
What had I done? Poor Vicky. When this got out the Dead Good Poets would never let me perform again. What could I do? What could I do? The answer came in a moment of clarity. If all else is lost, bite the bullet.
I had to work quickly, I knew that much. Dropping Vicky off at my empty new flat I took the opportunity to Facestalk the rest of the bloggers. Some of them didn't even set their profiles to private. It was so simple!
I got the easy one out of the way first. Ashley. All that took was a false invite to a college Alton Towers trip. Told him to meet me at stupid o'clock in the morning on Palatine Road. A bottle of vodka to the back of the head did for him.
Colin was next. The guy was posting about reviewing 'Tubular Bells for Two' at the Grand Theatre on Sunday 23rd June. It was like a huge, 'Come and kill me' flag. I pretended to bump into him outside, invited him for a chin-wag and BANG: Game over. With the theme from the Exorcist pleasantly pinging round my head, I set about completing my collection.
Lisa, Cerridwen and Sheilagh I caught all at once out the back of South Building. A multipack, if you will. I felt almost ironic wrapping them in clingfilm. Shaun and Lara proved tricky but I finally caught Shaun hanging around Bloomfield Rd and forced him into arranging to meet Lara at the allotment. That shed proved useful, I have to say.
And that left only Lindsay. I had to go all the way to Preston for that one. Plucked her from UCLAN like a ripe pomegranate, no one none the wiser.
All 9 in one week. A complete set. That's where the real work began.Taxidermy has never been my strongpoint. Neither has needlework for that matter but a little Googling here and there, a few YouTube tutorials and I had a collection I could be proud of.
I finally cracked it when I realised if I cut the hands from the wrists, the forearms from the elbows and vice versa with ankles and knees, I could insert wires through the bone marrow and reattach for a kind of Pinnochio experience (I hoped they appreciated the intertextuality). I asked them all if they hated me for doing this but they all said they understood. Ashley even invited me to set the theme for the first meeting. I was moving his jaw for him (I did know that) but I distinctly heard him say it.It was perfect. I had print-outs of everyone's blogs and Ashley introduced everyone, one by one, as they got up to perform my favourites. Lugging them about was hard work, but once I got them up on the hooks their weight wasn't a problem and I could focus on moving their limbs, expressing their intonations and cracking jokes between us all. How we all laughed when mic stand fell down. it was just like old times.
You do understand, don't you? I mean, I had to do it to protect the group. We were perfect: a group of poets, a complete set, preserved in time. Well... almost.
When you find us all, when you find me, please let me join them. Let me move one more time, move my mouth for me and pull my strings. I've written something new, I promise...
