Don't Tell

This isn’t Thomas any more. It’s Patsy, the introduction writer from the beginning of this series of blog entries. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and it was about time I took out all my anger on Thomas, once and for all. I’m going to have to ask for the reader’s assurance that the authorities will not be notified. This is because Thomas is dead.

When he was sleeping in his bed, I sneaked into the room and silently approached him. This is where Thomas is the most vulnerable, so I took it upon myself to approach him in the middle of the night, so that I could do this and nobody nearby would know. I grabbed a nearby pillow and jumped on to the bed. I placed my knees on each of his arms, pinning his fragile arms to the mattress as pressed the cushion into his face. His body shook back and forth violently. His legs futilely kicked out at me, but they were covered in blankets. I continued smothering the life out of the bastard, screaming: “This is what you deserve, Thomas, this is what you get!” I could hear his muffled groans through the thick layer of fluff that I had wrapped around his mouth. Soon it would all be over, I knew, slowly his trembling and convulsions slowed down, he was dieing, and I enjoyed every bit of it. Finally I lifted the saliva covered cushion and stared at him one last time. Game over, Thomas.

Disposing the body was easy; I dragged his body into the bathtub and got out the fire axe... It only took three good, clean swings to detach his head, and both of his hands from the rest of his body. I placed the dismembered body parts in a bowling bag and brought it to a construction site. Burying it was easy, a backhoe was left behind at the construction site, and now his lifeless hands and head are deep underneath the dirt, where they should be. His torso I wrapped in a tarp and sunk in the nearby bay.

Finally the nightmare is over. I can sleep at night knowing that Thomas is gone forever. From now onwards this blog will be written by me, and I will continue exploring Thomas’ little investigation of the Great Mister Jay Gatsby.Unlike Thomas, my view on Gatsby is very different. As I was disposing of Thomas’ body, I noticed some notes that he had on his desk about Gatsby. As it turns out, Gatsby focused

most of his attention on winning the love of a woman in a completely different social class than him, a very great step to get over. He amassed a huge fortune and bought a mansion across the bay from Daisy’s own house, identified at night by a green light emitted at the end of a dock.