She asked if I could babysit her child,
While she went running some errands,
She said she’d pay me 15 dollars an hour,
She said her kids' name is Karen.

She didn’t give me much time to answer,
But no matter what I would’ve said sure,
She stated her own name,
But I didn’t hear her.

She was in a hurry,
Her eyes flickered from side to side,
She ran off without any transportation,
I almost asked if she needed a ride.

I walked up to her house,
And opened up the door,
And sitting there was Karen,
Crisscross on the floor.

She smiled a bright smile,
Greeted me with a “hey”
And, to my surprise,
Said that Kelsey was her name.

I didn’t mention to her,
That her mother got her name wrong,
Rather I pulled out my phone,
And asked if she knew any songs.

She said she could search it herself,
And that she was a “big girl”
So I handed her the phone,
And this is when she changed my world.

She searched the song,
Put it on really loud,
And then began to sing along,
Or, rather, she began to shout.

She danced in a circle,
My phone in her hand,
And from that moment I knew,
My time spent here would be far from grand.

A very stressful child,
And though I was getting paid more for a longer watch,
I couldn’t wait for it to be over,
And I kept checking my watch.

Four hours in,
The mom was nowhere in sight,
The same song was on repeat,
And Kelsey would play it all night.

I snapped,
I’d had enough.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
It was the only way to shut her up.

I grabbed a couch cushion,
And when she was turned around,
I wrapped it around her little face,
And shoved her down.

With the pillow drowning out her screams,
Of suffocation and fear,
With her tiny limbs flailing,
My lunacy began to appear.

I enjoyed her struggle!
And her muffled screams!
It brought joy to my heart,
And brought pleasant dreams.

But it was a different type of joy,
Unlike iced tea on a summer's day,
It was like the feeling you get,
When a nuisance has passed away.

Oh, finally!
What joy!

If I knew that death brought me such satisfaction,
I would’ve started long ago.
But now the mother is arriving home,
And obviously, she can’t know.

So I know a perfect way,
To keep her from finding out,
I’ll just have to **** her, too.
Yes, without a doubt.

And maybe I’ll share this joy,
Of watching her blood spill,
But that story’s for another time,
Another story of my ****.