From, Blood’s History: Chores
Early in my life I learned an important lesson: killing is a chore.
It is work which needs doing, and rare are the occasions when joy might be taken from it. I took no enjoyment from the death of Mary Olcott. Her killing was merely a chore.
Captain Samuel Olcott, her husband, was a man who felt the need to cheat and swindle his business partners, one of whom was my Uncle Cy. Cy lost most of his farm to Captain Olcott, and my Aunt Faith sought to regain them by pleading the family’s case.
Olcott had his way with her and then she killed herself out of shame. My Uncle Cy soon followed.
Of all my relatives, I am the hardest. We discussed the need to punish Olcott and it was decided that pride cometh before a fall, and he was terribly proud of the beauty and virtue of his wife Mary.
On May 10th, 1766, I entered their new home – which had once been my aunt and uncle’s – and I beat Captain Olcott to the floor.
As he lay there, attempting to get up, I dragged Mary to him, apologized, and cut her throat, dousing him in his wife’s blood.
Killing Mary Olcott was a chore. Castrating her husband was a joy.
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