The cat crouched on the table, twirling a knife. I paused, knowing I’d be late for work once again. I removed my tie and picked up a sword.
He groaned in pain. His knuckles turned white as the scent of uncertainty filled the little room. “Chili,” said he, “you betrayed me.”
The gun is real. As the stagehands move the body offstage, a clueless spectator gushes: “This play’s so realistic!” The sirens draw closer.
I confess: I did it with Miss Scarlett in the Conservatory with a rope. Twice.
Dwayne, remembering the key to many sports, followed through a little too well when trying to best his roommates in the farting competition.
Dear Santa, I’ve been very naughty this year. I have the video to prove it. Meet me for milk and cookies; we can watch it together. Yours truly.