And it wasn’t the first time, either. I’ve done it before. And I know in my heart that I’ll do it again. It’s taken me a few days to come to grips with it—as it always does—but now I’m ready to admit my heinous crimes. Because admitting that you have a problem is the first step.
Mr. Weebles is aware of my crimes. He doesn’t condone them. But he knows he is powerless to stop me. He knows I will kill again and again. And again.
I don’t do it on purpose. I’m not proud of my actions. I have no hatred for my victims. It just . . . happens. I can’t help myself. I try to take precautions so that I don’t cause any harm, but sometimes I forget myself and before I know it, there’s another one. Dead. I’ve lost count at this point, but I would estimate that I’ve killed anywhere between 50 and 100 innocents.
My friends, what you are about to see isn’t pretty. In fact, it’s gruesome and grotesque. I would advise those of you with small children to make sure the little ones are as far away from your monitor as possible before you view these so you don’t scar them for life. You shouldn’t view these while you’re at work either in case your company’s IT department monitors this type of thing.
If you have a sensitive nature, please be warned. These are the kinds of images that will stay with you forever. They’ll haunt you to your core. You cannot unsee them once they have been seen. They will be permanently etched on your retinas. I cannot emphasize this enough. Do you have any Valium or Xanax? You might want to take some now and wait until it kicks in. Or have a stiff drink to numb your senses to what you are about to see. Even I still get sickened, and I’m the murderer. I’ve seen it all first hand. I’ve stared at the corpses and cleaned them up. I never get used to the carnage. And yet I continue to commit these terrible acts.
I’m so sorry, little tissues. I didn’t mean to wash you. I just keep forgetting that I have you in my pockets and then I forget to check my pockets before I do the laundry. You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you like this, all shredded and brittle. Sometimes I have to look away for a moment. I cry when I pick your little remains off my clothing. You were so kind, and soft, and you didn’t deserve this fate. I will mourn each and every one of you until the day I die.
Sociopath.
Dammit, you saw right through my attempt to appear contrite.
I’m sure they had it coming.
I hadn’t thought of it that way. But that would certainly make me feel less guilty about drowning them all.
Perhaps they’re suicidal?
That’s very possible. Otherwise you’d think they would make an effort to leave my pocket before I put them in the wash.
My now adult children were almost strangled by me many times. God, what they put me through. I changed their names to Suspect #1 and Suspect # 2.
But wouldn’t that make them Victim #1 and Victim #2? Unless you were planning to frame them and put them in jail. That could work too.
Well, that wa snot what I expected. I thought most tissue got blown away. sorry, couldn’t resist.
Actually, I’d be likely to murder the person who left the thing in their pockets. Grrrrrrrr. I hate picking the lint off clothes.
Cheers
Oh, Nigel. I can’t top those puns, those are good ones.
You should talk to Mr. Weebles. He feels your pain, I’m sure.
It’s a good thing you use a pseudonym, Weebles. I would totally turn your ass in. And the rest of you, too.
My ass could use some turning in, I’ll be honest with you.
Oh, the humanity! I can’t look! I can’t… * takes moment to compose self*
…eh, whatever.
Wait, could you tell I was faking it?
It was pretty convincing, actually. It was the fainting that really made it look authentic.
You know I’ll have to report you, right?
Gasp! You WOULDN’T!!!
well, I’d be in my conscience for the rest of my years…. I would start having nightmares if I don’t….
Hmmph. No coffee for YOU.
no coffee for me? I’m le sad
If you keep quiet about my crimes, then you can have all the coffee you want. Consider it a bribe.
But… but… but…
OK, fine. A Colombian can’t leave without her coffee.
You’re a tough one, Madame Weebles. Tought one. In Colombia, that is considered torture
Madame Weebles,
You have amused me. And because of it, my painted fingers are staining my keyboard as I can not avoid commenting on your funny post. Furthermore, I have to admit that when I re-read my comment, I couldn’t avoid (2) thinking this comment was written by a kindergarten kid.
Le WTF Clown
Oh dear, Le Clown. I am indeed flattered that you commented on my post even with painty fingers. I hope you didn’t ruin your keyboard on my account. Although if you did, it’s totally worth it.
Ohh, the tissues. I thought you were going to fess up about your plant killing spree.
That’s different. Those plants mocked me. They were asking for it.
I was about to call the police.
All right, Coyle. How much hush money do you want to keep this quiet?
First it’s Kleenex, next it will be paper towel, and then you’ll be killing innocent poster board and construction paper. When and how does it end? Will it not stop until you’ve taken down some innocent trees? I urge you, get some help Madame, before it’s too late!!!
I know, Grippy, You’re right. I probably should get some professional help. Who knows where this might escalate. I’ve never killed a paper towel but it’s only Tuesdsay.
What a horrid way to die…. . and dare I say this post is almost Boastful!! You are just taunting the local detective unit… i won’t be surprised if in a year or two I will be watching a documentary about Madame Weebles on the Crime Investigation channel!!
If that happens, you can point to me on television and brag to your friends that you knew me way back when!
Hilarious! I smiled all the way through — but — initially after reading the title, I’m thinking, and this isn’t nice — I hope it was somebody good!
I love that you were hoping it was someone good–you have a demented mind too, and I like that. Sadly, it’s just tissues.
One of the times when this happened to me at my laundromat as I was seething at myself and picking soggy tissue off my load I thought, “What next?” Then, I opened the lint trap and saw a $20 bill. At that moment I felt like I had won the Power Ball lottery.
That hasn’t happened to me, the money in the lint trap thing. I’ve used up all my karma points by killing so many tissues.
Were you found posting this at an Internet cafe in Germany?
It was Romania, actually. But yes.
Dear Madame,
I too am a cold blooded killer. I’m constantly tossing unmatched socks. If it comes out of the dryer without a mate it’s gone. No trial, no jury, no second chance. And I’m not ashamed.
xoxo
GG
You really are ruthless, Stacie. I knew I liked you.
i think the little boogers were asking for it…
You are truly demented. You make me proud!
Well, I did come by it honestly…
The question would be… did you kill them softly, at what speed, and did you re-cycle? The facts ma’am, just the facts…
Well, sometimes it was on the gentle cycle, so I feel a little better about that. But sometimes I had it on pre-soak AND heavy-duty wash. And I didn’t recycle. I’m a hardened criminal, I know.
I bet if you asked the tissue which cruel fate it would rather suffer, it would choose death by washing machine over being covered in snot…. or in the case of teenage boys, other (ahem) bodily fluids.
I hadn’t thought of that. You’re probably right. The washing machine is much more humane than some other fates a tissue could encounter…