M & M

Myrtle spread all of the documentation and photographs across the dining room table, careful not to snag a doily or scratch the lemon polish; it was all there. "Goodness," Maxine admired, "that's quite the portable murder wall." Myrtle laughed and hugged her. "M and M forever," she whispered. "Even now. I have no intention of calling the police." Maxine smiled and they sat down. "I do, however, have oodles of questions," Myrtle continued. "When and how did it start? How many have there been? Are you still ... active?" Maxine took a sip of tea and a deep breath. "I was very young - grade school; many; and no," she responded. "Also no animals, so no clear predictors of psychopathy, and mostly a rule-follower on the outside, so no real sociopathy. I've just always been someone who drew a firm line when the rubbish went on too long - not common, you-took-the-last-5-gallon-jar-of-pickles-at-Costco rubbish, but ruthless disregard for life and, of course, the violence so closely associated with that." "I've often been tempted to murder randomly at Costco," Myrtle said (after a moment of silence). "I suspect I have a weaker will than you do." They laughed together. "Well," Maxine offered (under her breath), "they have to leave the store sometime."