After the Chainsaw
The UPS kiosk asked if she wanted one-day delivery. You know, she thought, he did want to see the country. She smiled. Free shipping it was.
The UPS kiosk asked if she wanted one-day delivery. You know, she thought, he did want to see the country. She smiled. Free shipping it was.
He arrived on night’s wing. The town sensed his evil nature, whetted stakes by torchlight. The coffin is rock-heavy. I put them in there.
The S.W.A.T team shot him when he opened up his jacket. Then they took out every dove from the air to neutralise any further threat.
“The floor is lava!” the boys cheer, leaping on couches. A single smirk; a spell softly spoken. Child-bearing chairs ooze into the eruption.
My eyes met his as he dug the blade in. I saw sorrow; he saw fear. His buddy yelled, “Let’s go.” I prayed these burglars left my child alone.
Doorbell. It’s them. I’m sure. Come to deliver the news. Tuesday. Closed-casket. Wear black. When I see the postman I laugh so hard I cry.