Friday, 18 April 2014

Waiting for the pop


The first victim had her neck snapped. We found cornflakes in her shoes. The second was wrapped in old-style cellophane: so crisp it could not fail to crackle whenever we touched her; from unwrapping to removing the oatmeal to swabbing her lips for the perp’s signatures of milk and sugar.
The Squad has a book running at a hundred dollars a…go. What will the third pun be: someone’s dear old dad or hit songs or the British CSI who says it’s slang for a soda?
The manipulable press had no difficulty nicknaming the killer.
I love the clever ones. They’re…great.

3 comments:

Steve Green said...

I feel sorry for the victims, but can't help but smile at the story itself, an unusual and (IMO) amusing story. :)

David G. Shrock said...

At least the killer knows what the most important meal of the day is. Fun flash.

Helen A. Howell said...

Oh poor victims! Fun story ^_^