“All it takes is a dollop,” said Heather. “She’ll be dead in minutes.”
“I don’t think that’ll be nece–”
“Just take it with you.”
Heather pushed the container into Jess’s hand. Her “poison”–whatever it was made of, came in a plastic mayo jar. Its colour was the same as the jar’s native contents.
Jess was pretty sure this was just mayo. But she was worried that if it wasn’t, and she forgot, and wanted to make a tuna sandwich or something, she’d wind up killing herself. That wouldn’t be ideal. So she took a sharpie and wrote a small “P” on the top of the lid.
“Wise,” said Heather, nodding.
“What do you expect me to put this on to poison her?” Jess asked. “What if she doesn’t like mayo?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just sneak it into something she’ll eat or drink. Just one dollop will do.”
“I guess I don’t know how much, exactly, a ‘dollop’ is.”
“In between a dab and a scoop.”
“Fine. I’ll poison my new roommate if she turns out to be crazy. Even though bringing poison to my new apartment is the crazy roommate thing to do.”
“I am ever your fierce protector,” said Heather.
“You’re just jealous that I’m moving out.”
“A falsehood. But I’ll miss you, kid.”
Heather wrapped Jess’s neck in her arms. Jess hugged back, a conflict of emotions playing in her head. She loved Heather to pieces, of course. But Heather’s “creativity” got overbearing. And, apparently, potentially fatal.
Jess looked at the mayo jar, still locked in Heather’s embrace. Behind Heather’s back, Jess opened the mayo jar and took a whiff.
Just old mayo. A strange going-away gift, but Heather was a strange girl. She twisted the lid back on and hugged her ex-roommate as tight as she could.
Today’s three prompt categories were, “A dollop,” “New roommate,” and, “‘Take it with you.'”
Now I’m going to add another character to the Jess and Heather world. Beside the hag in the forest, that is.