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November 30, 2006

11.30.06

Is that blood?! Oh, wait. No, it's...

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Comments

Bloody Housework!

Oh god, is that blood? Gotta wash my hands. That’s a bad cut. The water is so cold. No stitches needed, no hospital. I gotta finish cleaning up. This place is a mess. Derrick, he’s such a pig…dishes all over the counter. There are flies everywhere and it smells so bad in here. Need to open all the windows when I’m done cleaning. Air this place out. He stinks so badly. The furniture, I need to put it all back in order. Room needs to look normal. Like nothing happened. Where’s the knife? There! Blood’s on it. His, not mine.

Posted by: Laieanna at November 30, 2006 9:49 AM · Permalink

Detective Sheldon sighed as the squad car crept past the tape. The crowd was already filling the street and blocking traffic in every direction.

Cursing, he slipped and nearly fell in the viscous red sludge covering the alleyway. You might almost believe it was spilled paint – if anyone ever used paint that color, anyway. But then, it didn't smell like paint, either.

The crime scene was a mess – the victim was hamburger, and bits of him were scattered up and down the alley.

"Papers'll have a field day with this," Sheldon groaned to the sergeant. "Third meatloaf murdered this month."

Posted by: Keiran Halcyon at November 30, 2006 10:38 AM · Permalink

NECTAR OF THE GODS

We used to joke with Hal that if cut, he would bleed coffee.

With just a sip, Hal could differentiate between brands of instant, fresh ground and French pressed.

“Brew of the Week”, his weekly column in the Clandel Heights Times, covered every dreg of the caffeinated bean world.

He had his own cup with his name on it at the local café. Even this morning it was still sitting there steaming, sugar and cream waiting.

Hal lived and breathed for the aroma.

Yesterday they found him in his kitchen with a broken percolator, a cup and a razor blade.

Posted by: Lisa at November 30, 2006 11:50 AM · Permalink

Didn't Hal know Wal-Mart is open 24 hours??? Oh, the humanity!!

Posted by: Stacy at November 30, 2006 12:19 PM · Permalink

Clandel Heights may be one of those small communities that rolls up the sidewalks at 8 pm. Those kinds of towns don't always have a Wal-Mart.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 30, 2006 12:26 PM · Permalink

Very well done Lisa.

Posted by: kasac at November 30, 2006 2:09 PM · Permalink

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Posted by: Jeff R. at November 30, 2006 3:56 PM · Permalink

He always had some issues with it. Something was wrong with him and everyoine knew he had the disease.

Everyday wasn't complete without his liquid. His problems were few, but they were big.

Addicted to Chocolate Milk.

By the time the police had found his bloated body on the floor, they estimated that he had went through at least three cans of Chocolatey Quick before his stomach had ruptured.

There was no one to blame this on except for a rabbit. And this rabbit had blood on his hands.

The Police Captain would make sure Quicki would kill no more.

Posted by: todd at November 30, 2006 8:00 PM · Permalink