Although it was risky, he hated his boss. He hated her even though she didn’t take kindly to underlings who hated her. She tended to deal with underlings who hated her very severely. She tried not to be severe because, actually, she didn’t like to be bad. Being bad gave her headaches. But she had pills for that. And so she used that sword a lot. The one that she’d long since stopped washing. The one with the blood on the blade that hardly ever never dried.
She used to have an underling just to clean her sword. He even had an official title: Sword Cleaner. He used to clean the blood off a treat. He even managed to clean off that nasty arterial blood that would spurt and spurt and spurt from neck wounds that you just knew wouldn’t ever stop spurting, even when the head was rolling about on the floor. And he had this special oil that he would put on the blade after cleaning it so that it shined like it was new. And he even used to sharpen the blade too. Ironic really, because that was the blade she used to kill him. Not by cutting off his head because that would have been too merciful. No, she cut his arms off instead. He bled to death after a long time. Made an awful mess of the couch. And it wasn’t as if he’d done anything very bad. Just a small matter of a small matter. Something to do with soggy crisps; I forget. And with Sword Cleaner gone, the grot on the sword just built up and up, layer layer. Almost dry, but not quite.
So, yeah, he hated his boss. But not because of the blood, or the deaths, or the sword or the death of Sword Cleaner, even though they’d been friends. No, it was because the kids had been bored. And the boss hated bored kids more than anything. They’d said, just once, that they were bored. Complained to her en masses. And so she’d killed them. All of them. And now, because he’d loved those kids much, much more than Sword Cleaner, he was going to do something very risky. He was going to kill his boss.
So he did.