Sadie the Sadist: X-tremely Black Humor/Horror by Zané Sachs

chainsaw after 11 PM and risk more complaints from neighbors. I definitely need practice. First, I dragged the tarp into the bathroom, careful not to spill blood on the carpet. Talk about a workout, corpses weigh a lot. Lifting the body into the tub was too much for me, but after sawing it in half and trimming off the arms and legs, the job became manageable.
    I’m not big on menudo and my freezer has limited space, so what I couldn’t use I wrapped in tarps, then stuffed into Hefty trash bags—doubled, of course. One by one, I carried the bags downstairs, checking for drips and spillage. At 4:00 AM , I heard bears out by the dumpster, and that gave me a scare. I imagined hipbones and intestines strewn around the parking lot. But the bears failed to raid the dumpster, because the super keeps the trash cans secured. The garbage truck picks up early on Saturdays, so by now the bones and offal should be resting peacefully in the city landfill.
    Looking around my apartment, last night seems surreal—almost like it never happened.
    There’s no evidence of an altercation. The place appears normal, as long as you don’t look up. When I paint, I’ll need to borrow the super’s ladder to get the ceiling. I shoved the paint cans into the corner of the living room, along with brushes, a pan and roller, and a stack of new tarps. Home Depot had them on special, so I bought a few extra. I’m sure they’ll come in handy.
    I don’t have time to paint today because, while the chili simmers, I’m updating my résumé. I applied online for my current position, so the supermarket has my work history. Starting with my most recent experience: three months as a maid at Hotel 8—that job sucked; people are pigs. Before that, almost two years selling candy at the local movie theater—excellent job; I got to watch movies for free, but the manager fired me (my résumé says I resigned) when I got caught blowing a customer in the back row. I also worked as a waitress at Denny’s, and I was Bun Steamer at Burger King. Steaming buns is boooring, and going too fast leads to bun pileups. I gave BK one week’s notice, couldn’t face doing two. Before that, back where I come from … I don’t want to think about.
    The thing is, none of these jobs qualify me for Assistant Store Manager. So I need to embellish. Who doesn’t, right? How does this sound: Department Manager at Brother’s Grocery, a store that went out of business eight years ago in the town where I used to live. They can’t trace my history if the place doesn’t exist, right? But I’m not sure if Department Manager is impressive enough. I’ll change that to Store Manager, say I worked there for five years. That sounds good. I want to show I’m stable.
    I turn up the volume on my iPad, so P!nk can belt her heart out through the Bluetooth speakers. I’ve been avoiding newspapers, local radio and TV, because I’m avoiding Justus. Hearing his name makes me jittery. At work, when people talk about him in the break room, I plug in my earbuds and listen to music to drown the conversation.
    Two days ago, when I got home from work, a paper was plastered on my door. The super says the police were at the complex making inquiries, interviewing potential witnesses. Apparently, I’m a good candidate, since my balcony overlooks the road. They left a phone number.
    I tore it up.
    We don’t need cops sniffing around our life.
    I mean, my life,
    The best thing about being two people is: you always have company.
    I need to get this résumé submitted ASAP. I plan to shoot off an e-mail today with the résumé attached, so HR will go over my application first thing Monday morning. I’m sick of being a Courtesy Clerk. Terri the Terrible drives me loco, ordering me to mop spills, help customers load groceries into their cars, round up carts in the rain. I do as I’m told, even smile at Terri. Pretty soon I’ll be her boss.
    If she lives that long.
    I have to admit, Terri has taught me