It was a beautiful September Sunday morning, and SZA and I decided to go to the Burlington farmer’s market. We strolled through the fallen leaves, getting some air and letting our edge out. We were tapping apple pay for edible treasures while discussing the philosophical merits of heirloom tomatoes with a bearded hipster farmer, Hank (who insists the kale he sells has a soul). This is what it must feel like to be 20-something. It was a good day on my mind. But as we were approaching the florals, like a ghost in the machine, I saw my ex from the corner of my eye. He was with his new favorite peach. I tried to turn the other way to avoid confrontation, but SZA was not treading carefully. Her eyes flamed red as if she had become a Minecraft spider. I felt the heat radiating from this girl. I had an awful feeling that disaster was about to strike. I told her it wasn’t a big deal and that we dated months ago. I desperately tried to calm her tits. I begged, I pleaded. (I actually just stood there like a broken clock because I don’t know what to do in stressful situations, and SZA was on the loose.) Regardless, I couldn’t stop her.
She grabbed a kitchen knife from one of the old ladies at the fruit stands. It all happened in a flash. All I saw was red. After what felt like an eternity, I opened my eyes again because I thought I was dreaming and saw him face down, lying on the ground. I ran over to see if he was still breathing, but it was over. He had stab wounds everywhere, and the poor guy did not stand a chance. All my memories with him started returning to me, the good, the bad, and especially the ugly, cause he was probably only like a 5/10. The weird thing is, the only thought that I had was that I now have one less person to drunk text. I was snapped out of my disarray when the sounds of sirens started growing closer. SZA was nowhere to be found. Not even a trace of blood was left. This bitch got away. The police arrived and asked about what happened and my friendship with SZA. I gave them what I thought was a very detailed description of her: “She looks like she just stepped out of a psychedelic time machine that malfunctioned in the ’70s, ’90s, and the distant future all at once. She’s also probably like 5”4.” I told them she had problems with her exes in the past, but she was seeing a therapist and is more mature now. I didn’t think she would ever kill anyone. They asked me if she was on drugs, and I said she did all this sober. That’s all they asked me. It almost seemed as though they already had some dirt on her. Has she done this before? She is still missing. How can I sleep when I know she probably out there catching bodies? I fear she’s out for Drake. He has that new album drop, he can’t die! Bill Nye should probably be more scared. Nevertheless, she did me a favor.