« Stacy: Invasive Schminvasive | Main | The Eschatologist: On The Efficacy Of Certain Perennials In The Family Lamiaceae »

June 30, 2005

Michele: I Want Candy

The first thing Dave saw was the leg; shiny, bloated and sticking out from under the sofa.

The first thing he smelled was death. Not funeral home death, which smelled like Lysol and face powder, but rancid, rotting death - a smell that made his nostrils quiver and his stomach do a seasick lurch.

“Here.” The captain handed him an old-fashioned, single-wrapped candy.

“I don’t like peppermint.”
“You prefer the taste of death?”

Dave walked away, intent on examining the leg without benefit of peppermint. Two inches from the limb he stooped over and vomited on the crime scene.

“Stupid rookies.”

Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit