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November 27, 2007

Michele: Seven

First lick.

She paused. She could stop now. One wouldn't do anything.

Second lick.

It wasn't too late.

She laughed.

Third lick.

She was sure no one would be surprised at the act, but she hoped they would later laugh at the method.

Fourth lick.

Death by lollipop. She giggled.

Fifth lick.

She marveled that the poison didn't taste like anything except cherry and relief.

Sixth lick.

She laughed at what she was thinking. She sleepily grabbed a pen and scrawled a note on her arm for her family:

q: how many licks does it take?
a: seven.

Seventh lick.

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