Corn Nation hopes that that you all have a great holiday, wishes you a fine Merry Christmas, and in that spirit, presents you this story of neighborly love and togetherness.
One Nebraska neighborhood finds itself in a much more joyful mood after discovering that nearly all of them are united in wanting one of their neighbors dead.
Denizens of Cinnamon Acres in southwest Omaha found themselves collectively hating Joe Swansen after another Swansen “told you so” moment at the neighborhood Christmas party this year. Swansen couldn’t help himself but remind everyone at the party that in October he had predicted that the Nebraska volleyball team would not repeat as national champions. Swansen claims to be a Nebraska fan, and has more Husker paraphernalia than anyone else in the neighborhood, but has made a habit of rubbing everyone’s noses in Nebraska losses since Bo Pelini was fired.
‘That the lost was against Texas has to sting even a little more for you guys that I was right”, Swansen added.
Swansen then went on to remind everyone about how he knew Nebraska would get destroyed in basketball by Creighton, and how the football team wouldn’t win the Big Ten West.
”Tim Miles will get fired this season, just like Mike Riley will get fired next season.”
It was at this point when his wife, Marcy, told Joe that the Bishops, who were hosting the party, were out of guacamole and asked if he could please go home and get more guac and the picante sauce that were in the fridge.
“You never have enough guac”, he said, smirking at Len Bishop as he left.
As Joe left the house, Len turned to his guests and muttered, “That sonofabitch steals the joy out of everything”, then looking at Marcy, stated, “If it weren’t for you, he’d never step another foot in here.”
“You only have to put up with him sometimes,” countered Marcy. “Imagine what it’s like living with it every day. He’s the same with everything. Never wrong about anything and always reminding everyone else about the mistakes they make, no matter how insignificant.”
“I feel so sorry for you,” chimed Jenny, the next door neighbor and Marcy’s overly dramatic best friend.
“I’m really fucking tired of him ruining every get together. Maybe I should tell him that he’s no longer welcome here when he comes back,” said Len.
“But then Marcy couldn’t come either,” whined Jenny.
“If I try going anywhere without him, he bitches and moans so much that the drama wears me out. It’s not worth it,” said Marcy.
“Maybe we should just kill him.”
This came from Paul, the neighborhood problem solver. Any time anything came up that looked like a problem, whether it was or not, Paul always had a solution to share.
“That’s a bit harsh,” said Len.
“I was only joking.”
That was when sweet Mary Estevez made it real. Mary, who checks her curtains daily from outside the house to make sure they don’t look wrinkled, entered the conversation with an explosion, stating, ‘I don’t want to kill him. It’s too fast.” Then she screamed at the top of her lungs,
“I WANT TO CUT HIS BALLS OFF WITH A DULL KNIFE.”
“What the fuck did you put in your egg nog?”, asked Len.
“No, no, no. You can’t maim the guy. Then he’ll just go to the police. You have to kill him or nothing,” said Paul.
“Killing him it is, then,” offered Keith, Jenny’s husband.
“Jesus, what?”, said Len.
“Fuck the guy”, said Keith. “He really has been a pain for years. Some people just deserve killing. He’s one of them. Fuck him.”
“Oh, really. And how you going to do that?”, said Len.
“It wouldn’t be that hard,”, Mary said. “He’s always coming on to me. I could just invite him over..”
“Yes, yes,” said Paul. “Put some plastic down in your bedroom. Cover your bed. Tell him it’s some weird fetish you have, and then tie him down to the bed.”
“Then I can stab him and feel his warm blood all over me as he wonders what the fuck is going on!” The others were a little shocked at how far Mary was taking this, but were warming to the idea that this might not be a bad plan.
“It could work,” said Keith.
“We could finally take that trip to Sweden,” said Jenny, looking at Marcy. Marcy nodded in agreement.
“Okay, so how we going to get rid of the body and what are we going to tell people?”, asked Len.
“We’ll need to put a bunch of paper towels or regular towels under the bed, so that when he starts bleeding Mary can immediately soak up the blood without it getting onto the bed or floor. Then wrap up the body in plastic. We’ll need plastic bags for the towels, and the weapon, and no bleach. Bleach isn’t as effective as you might think,” said Paul.
“I can tell people he went to visit his cousin Terry in Nashville,” said Marcy.
“Oh my God, I have never loved you people so much as I do right now,” said Mary.
“Len, he has that whole garage beer stocked with that craft beer you like and it’s not like I’m going to drink it”. Marcy knew which buttons to push.
The neighbors looked around the room and nodded in agreement that a plan was in the works. That was when the front door opened and Joe returned. Everyone turned to look at him.
He paused a moment as he entered the room, and said, “What were you doing while I was gone? Plotting my murder?”
Everyone laughed, including Joe. Everyone but Mary, who muttered under her breath, “We were thinking what a good year 2017 will be without you around, you piece of shit.”
“You know, it won’t be long and it’ll be Husker baseball season and Darin Erstad and his boys will let us down once again,” said Joe.
Paul looked at the carpet and wondered how clean it really was. Marcy and Jenny took another drink. Len shook his head with a realization of what had to be done.
The drinks flowed into the night. Marcy and Jenny spent time together looking at Jenny’s phone, planning a trip to Sweden, and at Google Maps for a good place they could hide Joe’s lifeless body. Paul and Keith talked about the best ways to clean up blood.
Len stood apart from the rest, watching the room, as did Mary. Mary sipped more egg nog while quietly singing “Silent Night”.
Len watched Joe as Joe awkwardly and repeatedly tried to maneuver so he could look down Jenny’s shirt, and thought to himself, “We better kill the fucker. If we don’t, we’ll be having this same fucking conversation at this same party next year.”