Cruella De Vil: A Short Story

“Ms… Devil is it?” the detective asked the slender, ghastly woman. She smelled of a mixture of cigarettes and very strong perfume, perhaps to hide the unpleasant stench of the smoke.

“De Vil! Two words! Is it really that hard to even look at the name? Imbeciles, all of you, completely idiotic,” the woman shouted.

“I’d be careful with your tone, Ms. De Vil. Do you realize what you have done? You kidnapped and tried to kill 15 dalmatians, just for fur. The Radcliffes, however, you actually killed. Do you realize how much jail time you're facing?”

“Of course I do, you maladroit cretin. Besides, I don't see why I should. At least not in a crummy old jail cell in Scotland Yard. Bedlam seems more of my taste. All the grandeur, with a not-so-subtle

flair of insanity”
“Well… I can see what...”
She started to relive all of what had happened in the last few weeks.

Slowly, the time slowed down, till it reached a halt. Without warning, it was 3 days ago. Cruella De Vil, London’s most infamous aristocrat, was on her way to see her dear “friend” Anita Radcliffe, who had recently heard her pet dalmatian was having puppies.

Dalmatians make the best fur coats, but the time to get them, I’ve heard, is right when they are born, Cruella thought.

“James, darling, if you could, I’d prefer to get there before I have my 4th 30th birthday, please.” Cruella said, rather calmly, for her at least.

A short time later, she arrived at the Radcliffe Residence, ready to buy the little brats with her capacious amounts of money. She was almost certain that if her persuasive techniques weren't enough to win the creatures, £680 would be sufficient. She rang the doorbell a few times, more exasperation in each toll of the buzzer. Finally, the Radcliffes answered the door.

“Anita, Darling!” Cruella said in a hastily tone, as she barged into the

foyer.`
“How are you, Cr--”
“Miserable, darling, as usual; perfectly wretched.” She looked around for the dalmatians, visibly angered at not seeing them.

“Where are they? Where are they?” she inquired. “Goddamn it, I said ‘where are they?’ No time for games,

Anita”
“Who, Cruella?” Anita Radcliffe asked.
“The puppies, the puppies! No time for games, where are the little brutes?
“Oh, the puppies! Oh, right in the laundry room! All 15! We had a little fright with--”
“Fifteen? Fifteen puppies? How marvellous! How marvellous, how perfectly--” all of a sudden, Cruella shrieked, “The devil take it! They're mongrels! No spots!”
“Well, Cruella, it takes at least a few days for them to even have spots. Surely
you would’ve--”
“Merde! Anywho, You'll be hearing from me in due time! Ta-ta, Anita, darling!”
“But Cruella, I--” but her car was already speeding away…

 Three days later 

Cruella knew what she had to do, and she knew it wouldn't just be a walk in Hyde Park. Dressed in her finest fur coat ( made of only the premium mink & chinchilla fur) a little black dress, and an abundance of jewelry adorned with ropes of pearls, sapphires, and other rarities, she set off for Radcliffe Manor. After all, one mustn't look drab while committing murder and skinning their dogs. With her pistol, hunting knife, and brass knuckles in her leather clutch, she fled her residence, Hell Hall, and made haste to the house.
• • •
Cruella, quiet as a mouse, slinked into the Radcliffe’s. She creeped up to Anita and her husband, Roger’s bedroom. Dear God, I hope the lot of them are asleep, Cruella thought. She just couldn't handle the sight of either of them waking up right before they were going to be shot. She peered into their bedroom, feeling relieved to see the couple sound asleep. As she walked forward to the bed, she floorboard squeaked. Roger let out a slight snore, and a quick tousle of the bedsheets from Anita. Once again it was silent, and she advanced once again to the side of the bed. She held up the pistol, and pulled the trigger.