Forensics were powdering the place, like so much disinfected flies, hovering here and there. Why else not? It’s a corpse they’re surrounding, a grisly mangle at that. Had they wearing anything uniformly dark rather than their come-as-you-are indifference to death, then the proper image would be that of vultures or ravens. Humane though, they did not gloat over the victim like I would, had I been in a massacre-ing mood. But today, this has just gone too far.
The latest victim is a pop-princess. Maybe she had it coming, making a farce about rehab, conversion, then debauchery once more. Bad example for kids. Well, hope the parents or the networks won’t flash her entrails like so much strawberry blond hair dolloped with ketchup. The investigators were stumped. No prints, no murder weapon, no motive, and no trace. They got a video of the guy, but the face did not turn up in any database. I should know better.
If I’m so bad, why’d I end up with the good guys? Well, you gotta take care of those which you feed on.
“Whaddaya think rookie? One of them evil cult groups?” A sincere faced officer asked me. Rookie? In this job probably. Little did he know I’m far far older.
“I don’t think so. But I’ll try to solve this.”
“Best of luck. We’re up against a master serial killer, and pity the singer. She could be as old as Madonna if she wasn’t so unlucky now.”
~~~
“How did you find me? Nobody could have known this cabin!” The perp was flabbergasted. Maybe his ego was to large to be outwitted, or discovered. He didn’t flinch with a gun pointed at him though. I enjoyed that part of the FBI pro-forma. The fool, hadn’t he noticed the hardwood door flying, ripped from the hinges out of the ordinary. Gonna enjoy his surprise indeed.
“Your aura-l trail was easy enough to follow. Plus your image in those passers-by’s minds was bright as day.” Now I dropped the pretense of a gunslinger and threw aside the miscellaneous accessory. From where he now cowered, he could see my form change that terrified even one such as him, while my eyes bathed the foyer with a black-light glow.
“Oh no, pack-lord, don’t, I’m willing to be banished. I did not know it was her…”
“Fool. I can’t risk them getting on to us, and such an outrage might do the trick. So now, payback’s a bitch.” Let me give a picture. Imagine the Tasmanian of Looney Tunes spring to life before this wolf on legs, but in furry 3-D. Then just swallow him whole. With a burp afterwards. He screamed like a soprano while my stomach acids digested him alive.
Meanwhile, Harry Potter snitches buzzed out of the cabin, capturing all the action on their microcams. They landed on the four-fingered hands of a bug-eyed white alien. He strolled up the landing ramp of the UFO. Another exclusive for their reality tv network.
~~~
This is what comes out when I read a Stephen King novel and then try not to be late for a prime-time rerun of X-Files.
Filed under: Micro story, humor
This was definitely a fun read, Tom. Especially the following which convinces me of your truly wild, and I mean wild, imagination. Good one!
“Imagine the Tasmanian of Looney Tunes spring to life before this wolf on legs, but in furry 3-D. Then just swallow him whole. With a burp afterwards. He screamed like a soprano while my stomach acids digested him alive.”
There’s a poem in there, too! LOL
Thanks, Dear Janet. It was totally spontaneous, I haven’t even finished Stephen King’s Wolves of the Calla yet. He never fails to amaze me in that genre, although I’m not really an avid horror reader. Yeah, just love playing with imagery and metaphor, which sometimes, explain a lot deeper than the exact explanation, but I’d love to cultivate that skill of factual detail any day of the week given the time. You take care, my darling friend, you shine wherever you are! Mwah.
You’re braver than I am. I can’t read his stuff. I read it when I was younger and I hate clowns. But his writing is something to be learned from because it flows and is tight and concise. I really enjoyed his book ‘On Writing’. Anyway, this is the stuff you really love to write, it shows.
Believe you me, this dark side of my thoughts had saved me a lot of times, and I call it: paranoia. Maybe that’s why I need a drink once in a while, to keep the voices out of my head…ha! there I go again…heheh. I hate clowns too, like I’d have an urge to smear their make-up, like caricatures of human faces aren’t bad enough. Don’t you agree? Clowns are a kid’s version of…monstrosity? No, that’s too strong a word, maybe deformity. Like when we were kids, we knew there’s something not right under all that bright costume and exaggerated smiles.
Yeah, He writes in such a very controlled style, like every nuance and sequence all serve to paint a good picture and a very dark one at that. Like he’s saying, don’t get too smarmy, life’s far from that really. Hmmm…being ready is always the answer, is it not?
Well, dear Kimmie, thank you, and you have all my best on your book. Take care and God bless.
brilliant and hysterical, i think i pulled a fat laughing…
*ps, perhaps a small editing error … take care of those on which you feed on. (Two ‘on’s…sorry, as a news editor, can’t help myself,) delete this bit if ya wanna*
Hey, thanks for that! Have a good day!