A long, long time ago,
when I was but eight years old, my family were searching for a new house. That particular summer, my brother and I were dragged round property after property as my parents searched for the perfect family home.

One afternoon we visited an old, detached house in Surrey with a huge rambling garden. We were greeted at the front door by a lovely pair of spinsters, at least in their mid-seventies. Turns out they were sisters who had moved in together after losing husbands in WWII and they were selling up to fund their final stay in a countryside nursing home.

After we'd accepted tea and cakes from the ladies, my brother and I raced out into the garden, leaving my parents to talk about square footage and rising damp.

'Say hello to Tommy when you're out there', said one of the ladies as we scampered off, 'he's in the vegetable patch.'

The garden was truly amazing - well it was to an eight and six year old. At the back was a large, overgrown area fenced off with chicken wire. This was the 'vegetable patch'. My bro and I stepped over the wire and wandered about, kicking things and throwing dirt at each other.

We ventured further and it was then we discovered 'Tommy'.

Tommy was a huge, lumbering and obviously amazingly old tortoise. He didn't do much. Just stood there, very comfortable in our presence, munching on a rhubarb leaf or something. The two of us stroked him, fed him some more leaves and sat watching him, fascinated by his funny eyes and coarse, leathery neck.

In the vegetable patch was a very large, rusting old drum that was used to collect rainwater. It was full up. I could just peer over the top of the it. And then, suddenly, for absolutely no reason. For absolutely no reason I will ever understand, I walked over to Tommy, picked him up, held him over my head and dropped him in the drum.

He sunk instantly.

I could have saved him. Could have ran back into the house. Could have got my father to tip over the drum and rescue Tommy. But I didn't. I just stayed in the garden with my brother. My brother never opened his mouth. He just looked at me oddly, like this was some lesson in life he was too young to comprehend.

Eventually my folks called us back in. We left with smiles and thanks to the old dears for the tea and cake. No one mentioned Tommy.

Fast forward a month or two. And as fate would have it, my parents bought that very house and we moved in one rainy Sunday. When we arrived at our new house it was empty, the two old girls having moved out a few days before.

During the chaos of the move, with the boxes and the furniture and the lorry and the stress, one of the removal men slipped out back for a fag. He quickly called my folks to outside and we all ran out to see what the fuss was about. There, at the back of the garden, in the vegetable patch were the previous owners. They were walking arm in arm in the driving rain, staring at the ground and were obviously extremely distressed. We went out to see them.

'Minnie won't leave until we find Tommy', one of them said, 'he has to be around here somewhere, we've had him FIFTY years, he HAS to come with us.'

Cue frantic searching of the garden by parents, children and removal men, all to no avail. After much tea and sympathy, my dad drove the wretched pair to the station, sans Tommy.

Various theories were bandied around about foxes and tunneling...but soon Tommy was forgotten. But not for me. I have never forgotten. Over 25yrs later and the thought can still wake me up in the night.

I'll never know what drove me to murder that day. But I know where I'm going because of it.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 13:24, 10 replies)

thats how fred west started...
nice bit o' murder though - well done!
(wrigglesworth, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 13:42, closed)

he probably wasn't chewing a rhubarb leaf...
they're very poisonous dontcha know!
(loobyla, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 13:58, closed)

or maybe he was ...
and poor little Albert was merely sparing Tommy a long and painful death?
(cheez is feeling ergophobic, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 14:03, closed)

He would still be alive today
Hope that helps
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 14:13, closed)

Wow
That is truely terrible thing to have done. I'll cya there then.

Did they not wonder why they hadn't seen Tommy at all in the last month or two?

Poor dears.
(ShitBitch, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 14:42, closed)

I had a tortoise as a kid
and it drowned in a bucket it managed to climb into :( We fished it out and it eeked out a couple more weeks of life, but finally shut down.

And so you are DEFINITELY going to hull for that.

*the venomous click of utter hatred*
(annexed, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 15:02, closed)

Maybe you thought it was a turtle that was supposed to live in water?
Also, shame and damnation to you for killing such an awesome creature as a big-ass tortoise.
( uberdeity Wondered why Owen Lars knew of the term "hell" on, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 15:41, closed)

As much as I want to rant, rave and stuff...
But I have a feeling that somehow you're going to torture yourself for the rest of your life over this, so nothing I can say will add to this.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Fri 12 Dec 2008, 17:16, closed)

thats pretty fucking awful
but kids do stuff like that

i love animals but some of the stuff i did as a kid puts me in ed gein territory (great movie also worth a Wiki en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ed_Gein)

*shakes fist*

*ruffles hair*

run along now - uncle spimf is VERY angry but we will forgive you
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 18:46, closed)

When I was about 4 or 5 years old
I used to crawl under our fence into the neighbour's back garden and play with his kittens while he was at work. I wasn't allowed to have one myself, which made me jealous and frustrated.

One day, these feelings manifested with me chucking the poor kitties around the garden in a destructive tantrum, i.e. if I couldn't have them, no-one would.

Luckily, the grass was quite long, I was young and weak and the kitties were, well, kittens able to land on their feet. No lasting harm was done (I hope) and they all grew up to be healthy cats.

I still feel guilty about it to this day. Kids can be so spiteful and cruel, I think it's part of growing up.
( chart cat has an itch, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 5:08, closed)