Everyday starts out the same for her: she wakes up, clambers out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom. When she finishes washing her face and brushing her hair, she heads for the kitchen, huge hips swaying like ships at a rough sea. Her pallid moonface shone above her tent-sized flannel nightgown: she and the sun were definitely not on good terms. She reaches into the fridge and gets out the orange juice, pours out a glass. As she sips she leans against the counter, contemplating the morning sunrise through the frosty glass. I knew her routine; she was nothing else if not predictable. God, how I hated her.

Everything about her repulsed me; long stringy hair hung about her face in an unkempt mess, straggly and oily, her fat face she constantly stuffs food into, everything! So many nights had I watched, with growing disgust, as she stared into the mirror, tears rolling down her pasty, fat cheeks, wanting to laugh but daring not to. She sits at home every night, alone, playing her stupid music or drawing her stupid drawings or talking on the phone, squawking incessantly about some stupid nonsense, her whiney, braying voice and laughter screeching like fingernails on a chalkboard in my head. Her personality itself bugged me, so optimistic and gullible. She once bought a "miracle fat burner" and expected it to work! How stupid can you be? I guess it would be an understatement to say she gets on my nerves!

For twenty-five years I've watched and waited, wanting to be free of her and the hateful hold she had over me. We were irrevocable linked, she and I, but whether she knew or not, she gave no sign. I swore one day that I would be rid of her, that one day I would be free, to take control of the body that we shared. So I kept watching and waiting, hoping for the chance to kill her.

Everyday I had to follow her to work, watching her answer the phone, that nasal voice screeching, "Curtis Pharmaceuticals, can I help you?" until I thought my head would explode. The only thing that kept it from being a total snoozefest was this guy that passed by her desk everyday, sometimes stopping to talk to her. He had no interest in her, but she was in love with him. It was so disgusting, watching her attempts to flirt, but I must say, she has good taste. He was tall, with dark hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes. I'd go after him myself, but I'd have to drag along the fat cow's baggage with me. Then one day, I had an idea.

Soon, my perfect chance had come. When the man came over the her desk to talk to her again, I reached out and seized his mind. Sometimes having to share the fat cow's body had its perks, like this one. I began pulling the strings on my human marionette. His mind was full of light and goodness on top, but down below, in the recesses, it was a whole other world, a dark place filled with his vain fantasies and sick, twisted ideals. What a coincidence! A man after my own heart! I made my little puppet ask the fat cow out to dinner, and she almost cried with happiness. Pathetic, isn't it? But I would do anything to be rid of her. I jerked the strings again, and my new toy told her to be ready by 7:00. I let handsome linger for a few more minutes, really sinking in the hook, having him tell her how much he wanted to go out with her, how he looked forward to tonight. The fat cow ate up every bit of it like it was a giant bowl of ice cream. It was almost sickening to watch, but then I thought of the ways I could kill her. That made me smile inside, but I didn't let it show. While they talked, I had vivid fantasies of torture, stringing her up and beating her till she bruised and bled, of making her crawl on the floor to beg for my mercy. It was a nice fantasy, but I soon drifted back to reality. I had almost lost my hold over handsome. He had started to get a little nervous and was looking around, a little confused. I regained control swiftly, and my puppet regained his composure and smoothly ended the conversation. A few tugs, and I danced my puppet swiftly away, like a skilled puppet master, away from the pathetic cow's eyes.

Before I left my puppet, I inserted a post-hypnotic suggestion to show up for the date, and to remember everything but my interference. I made him think it was his idea. I knew he would to go through with it, you know, the death-before-dishonor type, even though I knew she repulsed him as much as she did me. I saddened me to leave him, with his beautiful mind on it's way to becoming so much like mine! Oh, the things we could accomplish together! What we would accomplish together, tonight! Maybe after I take over the fat cow's body, and after I do some major reconstruction work, I bet I could catch his eye. Even if I didn't, I would just take what I wanted. It could be such a worthwhile endeavor. . . and if it wasn't, I'd just kill him. No great loss if it doesn't work out. As I drifted back to reality once more, I noticed I wasn't the only one who'd been daydreaming. The fat cow was simply staring off into space. Curious, I peeked into her thoughts, and saw her pathetic little visions: their date tonight, a romantic candle-lit dinner; future dates, each like something out of a Harlequin romance novel, with her feeding him, and he giving her sips of wine from his own cup; and finally, the climax, their marriage, at a beautiful outdoor ceremony with a huge wedding cake. She couldn't go for five minutes without thinking of food. Her little visions were so filled with sugar and saccharine just watching them I felt a toothache. I ought to show her what a real daydream was like. . . maybe something involving handsome. . . no, then again, don't want to frighten her off from her big date. I looked at her, and the look on her face was that of a severely beaten puppy who just received a kind word instead of a harsh blow. I discovered I liked that look on her. Too bad it wouldn't last longer. then I decided I had lingered long enough. I had to get ready for the big date, too.

Nothing much happened until later. I had rested, because I knew I was going to need all my strength if I was going to pull it off tonight. This might be my only chance to get rid of her, to finally be free and take over the body we shared. God had definitely played the cosmic joke when he had put our warring personalities together. No matter. After tonight, there would be no more war. I would take over that quivering hulk of flesh, and rule. But I had to calm down. It I got too excited, I could jump the gun and end the game before it even got started. It was almost funny watching the fat cow dance around the apartment, looking for something to wear, then looking for pantyhose and shoes. Then from out of nowhere, she pulls a black beaded dress from the closet. It looked vaguely familiar, then I remember where I saw it last: our Senior prom. I feared the worst as she shed her bathrobe and began to step into the dress. I had always loved that dress. The material itself was satin, with beads and sequins sewn in graceful patterns over the skirt and in feathers over the chest. That was one of the few happy times I could ever remember us sharing together. It enraged me, seeing her pull the dress up her chunky thighs and arrange the shoulders. My one happy memory, and she had to rip it to shreds! Surprisingly enough, the dress still fit. Fat cow must have been dieting and I had not known about it. I looked as good now as it did back then. I felt some of my anger ebb away as memories of that summer night resurfaced, threatening to claim my vision once more. No! With a mental shove I pushed the thought away. I had to concentrate, focus. I withdrew away from her and went into the living room.

Unfortunately, I couldn't go very far because of the bond we shared, but I could at least be in a different room from her. Too bad about that dress. I'd hate to get blood all over it. Maybe I'll make her take it off first. Then again, it was only fitting to kill her in that dress, the reminder of the only happy time we shared since I was old enough to know I had no control of the body we shared. Yet I saw everything she saw; knew her thoughts even though she didn't know mine, or know if my existence. But she would. . . . And regret the day she was born.

I was sitting on the sofa when the doorbell rang. I watched fat cow jump up from her chair and fling open the door. It was handsome. I looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:00. Well, at least he was punctual. She had called up one of her friends and begged her to let her borrow a mink coat her friend owned. After much begging and pleading, her friend consented and brought it over, which now hung about fat cow's shoulders like a silken down mantle. It went perfectly with the dress. I saw handsome's eyebrows shoot up as he eyed his date. He was surprised she'd managed to look so good, but then, so was I. Oh, well.

Dinner went smoothly. This time I was only the passive observer as my former puppet engaged the fat cow in lively conversation, keeping her spellbound. she was so blissfully happy it made me ill to watch, but it was a necessary good, I suppose. After dinner was over, handsome drove her home, and she shyly asked if he wanted to come in. Now! I seized control of my puppet once more, and he said yes. As soon as they were inside the door, my puppet grabbed her arm and slung her toward the little kitchen. While she cowered in fear, I took control of handsome's mind, and his every action was my own, as well. For a moment I allowed myself the pleasure of having all five senses. Smells, textures, and tastes flooded my brain for but a few brief seconds before I turned them off. I could enjoy them later. From the center drawer I drew a sharp butcher knife, scaring her all the more because I knew right where to find it. I quickly caught hold of her once more, and held the edge to her fleshy, fat neck. The beads and sequins shimmered in the light as she thrashed and struggled. I told her I hoped she suffered, for all the years of torment I had endured from her. Her eyes filled with questions, but that was all right. Before she could speak I put the edge to her flesh again and pulled it across, hard, like a violinist holding out a long note. As the knife slid deeper, I felt a mad rush of power, not unlike a junkie on the rush of a cocaine or heroine high. Colors whirled and spun in my vision, and I felt a mad surge of joy. I was doing it! I was killing her! Then I felt a curious draining sensation. Black flowers bloomed behind my eyes as the cow's body squirmed and thrashed. I began to panic. This wasn't supposed to happen! It wasn't supposed to be this way! I wanted to be free of her, but she got her final revenge, pulling me forth with her into the darkness. Insanely, I raged against it, fighting it off for as long as I could. I soon lost my hold over my marionette, and as his eyes unclouded, I could only briefly enjoy the look of unadulterated horror on his face before, finally, my eyes closed in the final slumber. When I awoke, the dark fires of Hell beckoned, as my new master summoned me forth. I had wished for freedom, but now must withstand the ultimate slavery. . . .

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