Meet Earl and Myrtle Williby

Earl stormed out of the house. "You don't know what I'm capable of, Myrtle. I'm on the friggin' edge here!"

Myrtle stood in the doorway watching him go. "Oh, Earl. You're such a drama queen." She started to move back into the kitchen but stopped. "Don't forget to pick up some milk on your way home."

"I may not be coming home!" Earl yelled over his shoulder. He stopped and spun around, facing her. "Don't you get it? I'm suicidal, Myrtle. Don't be surprised if it's the last time you see me."

She shook her head and went back to the kitchen, letting the screen door close behind her. Earl stood there for a moment, staring at the door with rage in his eyes. He jerked the keys from his jeans and hopped in his late-model Thunderbird and drove off.

About an hour later, the phone rang in the kitchen. Myrtle recognized the number on the caller ID as she picked it up. "Okay, Earl. What's the matter now?"

The voice on the other end was formal. "Hello, ma'am. Are you an aquantance of a Mr. Earl Jay Williby of Benton Way?"

Myrtle's hand fluttered to her chest as her face lost its color. Her voice broke as she spoke, "This is his wife, Myrtle Williby. Who is this?"

"Ma'am, this is Seargeant Trent Galloway with the County Sheriff's department --"

"My God, what's wrong --"

"We found your husband in his car out on Route 24, behind the old train station. Ma'am, I'm not sure how to tell you this..."

Myrtle felt her knees about to give. Her fingers dug into the kitchen doorway for support...

"Your husband suffered a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head." A terrible pause followed. "I'm afraid he's dead, ma'am."

Myrtle released the phone from her grip as her body collapsed to the floor.

***

Across town, Earl exchanged a crisply folded fifty for his cellphone back from a homeless man. "You did great," Earl smiled.

He hopped in his car and headed home. Part of him felt bad he'd done what he'd done, but he wanted to see some real concern coming from his wife and this was the best way to do that.

When he finally turned on his street, he noticed the ambulance parked in the driveway. His heart racing, he pulled up alongside it and jumped out. A paramedic exiting the house impeded his entry.

"What's going on here? My wife, is she alright?"

"Are you Mr. Williby?"

Earl nodded.

"I'm afraid to inform you that your wife just suffered a massive coronary, sir." He placed his hands on Earl's shoulders. "She's dead."

Earl dropped to his knees, moaning in agony. The emergency people stood stoically, watching him, their expressions mixed.

Earl pounded the hood of his Thunderbird with his fists. "No!" he cried. "Why'd I have to be such a fool!" His body wrenched with agonizing grief, he opened the car door, entered and locked it. He reclined the seat, disappearing from view.

The emergency personnel looked at each other.

Inside the car, Earl's hands went to the glovebox, fumbled for the loaded revolver. He gripped it in his hands, sucked in a deep breath, and took aim.

The gunshot was loud and piercing.

Inside the kitchen, Myrtle bolted upright. "No!" she screamed.

She ran out of the house, the white sheet cascading off her. "No! Not my Earl!"

She struggled past the EMTs in the driveway, fighting her way to Earl's car. She stood by the driver's side, pounding her fists on the driver's window.

A moment later, Earl slowly sat up, a wide grin formed on his lips.

Myrtle's eyes turned into fiery red coals. She snapped the antenna off Earl's car and wielded it like a weapon. "Heaven help you Earl when you get out of that car. I'm gonna beat the freckles off you!"

Earl's smile widened. He'd finally gotten what he wanted.

One of the younger EMT's stopped his boss. "Shouldn't we -- like, report them, sir. Missuse of emergency personnel?"

The man's hand went to the folded fifty in his breast pocket. "No. Let's just take the woman's money and get outta here."

He looked at the woman with the antenna in her hand circling the car trying to get in. "Something tells me were gonna be back here soon anyway."

Serendipity

The bell rang. A dark-haired woman with a nose ring and pink eyeshadow sat down in front of the nicely dressed young man.
The girl glanced at his nametag. "Hello, Charley."
Charley read her nametag. "Hello, Veronica."
"So," she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Who wants to go first?"
Charley didn't answer. He was too busy staring at her.
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Okay..."
"Have we met?"
"I don't know. Are you from around here?"
"Utah? No," he said, shaking his head. "You?"
"Oh, no."
He continued to stare and she continued to feel uneasy.
"You look like a missionary," she said. "Anyone tell you that?"
"Actually, I just came back from a calling."
"You seem a little old for that."
"I got a late start," he said, looking at her intensely, biting his lower lip in concentration.
She cleared her throat. "Listen, we've got less than three minutes here. Let's try to make the most of them, shall we?"
"Oh my God," he said, leaning back in his chair.
She looked at him blankly.
"I know where I've seen you. You're a porn star."
"Hey, keep your voice down," she said, looking around to make sure none of the other couples seated around them noticed. She dropped her head into her hands. "Aye carumba. Make one stupid video five years ago and I have to run into the only person on the planet who's seen it. And he's a Mormon."
He shook his head. "I didn't see it."
"Right," she said, laying on the sarcasm.
"Really."
She looked at him curiously. "Then how'd you know I was in a porno?"
He grinned at her. "It's me. Charley!"
She looked at him, her brows knotted together in thought. She shook her head slowly. "Sorry..."
"The Cable Guy," he said, glancing around, his voice low.
She continued to look at him blankly. Finally he began to surreptiously rock his pelvis back and forth. He whispered to her, "You know... the Cable Guy."
Finally the recognition dawned on her. She smiled. "Oh, yeah, the Cable Guy." She looked at him with new found appreciation. "So how you been?"
"Good." He leaned back as his eyes appraised her. Finally, he glanced around the room. "Say, you wanna get outta here, maybe grab a bite somewhere?"
"Yeah," she said, smiling. "I'd like that."
Charley got up, took the girl's hand delicately in his and guided her toward the exit, his eyes locked on hers.

The Passenger in 27F

Eddie finally made love to the passenger in 27F that night on the beach, with the sand luxuriously warm and soft, the moon glowing overhead like a giant clock face. The sound of the waves crashed in step with the rhythmic motion of their coupling. He was in true paradise.

A tropical breeze swept over his body, swirling her golden hair across his face. He took a moment to reflect on her beauty: the aquiline nose, the intelligent forehead, the pair of arched eyebrows - knitted at the moment, as if in deep concentration - her lips, full and moist. She was breathing hard, biting her lower lip as her body quivered beneath his. She had her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, a long slender leg overlapping his.

She came and he followed, their fingers digging into each other's flesh, their throats emitting moans of deep pleasure. They held each other breathlessly for a long moment, their bodies tense, and then slowly, each of them relaxed.

Eddie rolled onto his back and enjoyed the warm embrace of the sand as the ocean called out to him. He looked upward, into the star-filled night, the swaying palm trees breaching the edge of his vision. A smile lingered on his lips and his eyelids grew heavy... he was dimly aware of the girl nuzzling him, the heat of her breath on his neck, her fingers interlaced with his. Soon, without awareness, the serenity of sleep engulfed him.

That was two days ago and he hadn't seen the girl since.

The two of them had been marooned on the deserted island for two months and seven days. They hadn't been apart since their plane crashed amid the raging waves and torrential winds of an unexpected storm. He'd washed up on shore that night - miraculously uninjured - but shivering in fear and shock. Just before sunrise, after hours of treading the beach in search of survivors, he came across a small lagoon.

That's when he saw the girl.

At first, upon seeing the lump of human flesh wrapped in strands of slimy seaweed, he froze, his heart stopped. But then - as if an answer to his prayers - the girl coughed and her lungs spat out seawater and her eyes batted open. She had remarkable eyes: bright green emeralds. He gazed down at the beautiful creature in his arms and a tidal wave of relief consumed him.

During the days of their exile, Eddie tried to converse with the young woman, but she never uttered a word. He came to the belief that she didn't speak English or was mute, and neither of those possibilities bothered him.

At night, the girl with the golden hair would sit on the beach with her arms tight around her legs, her eyes focused on the stars, almost as if she were waiting for something. Eddie would often appear at her side and wrap an arm around her. At first, the girl shied away, but soon she seemed to welcome Eddie's presence.

Over the course of the next several weeks, they existed on the bountiful nourishment the island offered. A waterfall discovered further inland provided the two of them the opportunity to drink fresh water and bathe in a sparkling pool. During this time, he grew to forget the life he'd left behind and found himself welcoming a bliss he'd never known existed.

The third day after the girl's disappearance, a Search & Rescue seaplane flew overhead and caught sight of the bonfire which Eddie ignited each night. Despite their ensuing rigorous search of the island, followed by Eddie's frantic pleas not to abandon the search, the pilot and crew deemed him as the sole survivor and delivered him back to his friends and family in the States.

During one of the many interviews that followed, the team of investigators challenged Eddie over his testimony. A heavy-set man with hairy wrists looked at him and said, "You say this woman was seated in row 27, seat F, correct?"

Eddie nodded.

The man spun an airline seating diagram on the table in front of Eddie. "This particular configuration, the 767-400, version 76D, doesn't have a row 27. The last row before the galley is row 26. The seating then picks up at row 30."

The man stared at Eddie, expecting a response.

He swallowed. "I know what I saw. I was in the middle of row 26 and looked over my shoulder and saw the girl sitting in the aisle seat behind me. 27F." He spoke these last words firmly. His memory was then flooded with an image of the girl, just seconds before the plane tore apart. As everyone else in the cabin cried and bent their heads in prayer, Eddie noticed the look of serenity on her face as her green eyes locked with his and a faint smile formed on her lips.

Years later, as Eddie hurried for a subway to take him across the city for an important business meeting, he accidentally bumped into an attractive woman with long golden hair as she exited the train. He smiled and murmured an apology, but then caught sight of the woman's bright emerald eyes. She smiled and looked at him with a recognition that shook him to his core.

In an instant, the subway doors closed and the train departed. The woman was gone, but what the encounter had given to Eddie was priceless. Somewhere, deep in his heart, he knew it was her.

And someday, he would find her.

Thou Shalt Not Covet

Hector first met and fell in love with Rhonda at a wedding. He couldn't remember whose at the moment – wait, that's right, it was hers. She'd just tied the knot with some pompous writer she'd met in Greece while on his book-signing tour. His name was Jules and it bothered Hector how the man threw his money around, leaving behind the insinuation, though he never said it, that Hector should make an effort to someday pay him back.

He knew that only the untimely death of Rhonda's husband could grant Hector the opportunity to be with the woman of his dreams. But Jules was like an older brother to Hector, so much so, that they even shared the same mother and father.

Killing him would not be easy, but then he reminded himself, nothing worth having ever is. Except for this job - high-rise apartment manager - which Hector hated. Having to work for Jules was almost as painful as having to watch him make love to his beautiful wife, which he did every Saturday and Sunday, and most weeknights in between.

After much careful consideration, Hector decided to put his plan in action. He'd rig the elevator doors in the high-rise to open when the elevator was actually stopped a floor above (he'd learn to do this while browsing the Internet at work). His mission was to trick Jules into stepping inside the empty elevator shaft, comfort the grieving widow, and be in her pants by the afternoon. The whole idea seemed truly fail-safe.

He had everything in place and that evening found himself screwing up his courage outside the door of Jules' and Rhonda's luxury apartment. He was just about to knock when the door unexpectedly opened.

Suddenly, surprisingly, he found himself gazing into the warmth of Rhonda's eyes.

His brain registered her startled expression. Somewhere, deep inside his mind, he knew her lips were moving but he heard nothing, so enraptured by her he was.

She shook her head politely and moved past him down the hall, heading for the bank of elevators.

The elevator doors opened. Hector said nothing. He wanted to warn her, he wanted to scream, For God's sake! Don't get in that elevator! But nothing came out, not even a whisper. So powerful was the effect she had on him.

Rhonda stepped inside the waiting elevator, smiled goodnight at Hector, the doors closed and she was gone. Safely gone. The plan had failed.

Hector collapsed against the wall as a wave of relief washed over him. Thank God the plan had failed!

After a moment he gathered himself and took in a deep breath. Perhaps it was wrong for him to covet another man's possessions as he had done for so long. Maybe he was changing, he mused. Getting a little wiser. Perhaps from this point forward he'd make an effort to become a better person.

It seemed a weight had lifted from his shoulders. It was time for him to go home and be thankful for the things that were his. He heard a ding! and stepped into the nearby elevator...

The Gailick

Denton Buford was an awkward teenager with the typical pudgy face and bad case of acne. Every day of his life was unadulterated hell. Tortured at high school, ignored by everyone, all he wished for, day in and day out... all he ever wanted, was for something big to happen.

As he threw his backpack on his cluttered desk, his father yelled at him from downstairs. "Denny! Garbage!"

"In a minute!" he yelled back.

It was the same routine, over and over.

He sat dejectedly on his bed bemoaning his life when a noise from the street outside caused him to rise and move to his window. He stood behind the curtains, peering out.

It was Johnny, star quarterback from across the street. He was pulling up in his red convertible with a backseat full of screaming cheerleaders.

Denton edged forward for a better look. Johnny was everything that Denton wasn't. Good-looking, athletic... cool. God, how he hated Johnny.

The football player glanced up and caught Denton spying on him from above. "Wassup, Jedi? Post any new YouTube vids lately?"

At this, the girls in the back all started giggling hysterically. Johnny was, of course, referring to the infamous video which showed Denton prancing around in his underwear while waving a plastic lightsaber and reciting lines from The Phantom Menace.

Denton slipped to one side, just out of view, as Johnny and his harem drove off.

God, how he envied Johnny.

A brilliant flash of blinding light suddenly exploded next to Denton, sending him running for the security of his bed. He raised his head and what he saw next would stain his memory forever.

A small man in a bright green jumpsuit sat excitedly on the windowsill. "Hello there," he smiled.

Denton stared at him. The strange man didn't seem menacing, with his shiny eyes and toothy grin.

"Don't be afraid, my lad," said the man. He waved a hand at Denton encouraging him to come forth. "I've travelled a very long distance to find you."

Denton rose to his feet, his knees knocking. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He coughed and cleared his voice. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The little man smiled, lifted his palms in the air and said simply, "I am the Gailick!"

Denton looked at the man with a blank expression.

"I'm here for you, my lad!"

"Me?"

The Gailick nodded enthusiastically. "Come, sit down." He motioned to a nearby chair. In the next several minutes, the man in the green jumpsuit told of his journey across the galaxy. He spoke of his people, their customs, and the futuristic world they inhabited.

Denton sat slack-jawed, eyes opened wide. He was spellbound. Finally Denton worked up the courage to speak. "But what's this got to do with me?"

The Gailick sat back, his eyes flashed with fiery enthusiasm. "You're the one, my boy. We searched the entire galaxy and have decided on you. We want you to become the Supreme Ruler of our universe."

"Me?"

The man closed his eyes, smiled and nodded.

Denton stood and his eyes caught sight of his pudgy reflection in the mirror. He certainly didn't seem the Supreme Ruler-type.

The Gailick must have been reading his thoughts. "Of course, in order to survive on our planet, you'll need to assume the shape of a native inhabitant." The man made a fist and from the ring on his middle finger he emitted a three-dimensional projection in the center of the room.

The being depicted in the projection looked like a Greek God. Sculpted muscles, perfect nose and jaw, and very well-endowed below the waist.

Denton's heart leapt to his throat. "I'm gonna look like that?"

"And," the little man continued, "there's the Princess you're to wed, once of course you've had your fill of the local fare." The image flickered and changed to a beautiful Goddess, more stunning than anything Denton had ever laid eyes on.

"When do we leave?" asked Denton, hopping to his feet.

The Gailick smiled and offered his hand. "Right now, if you so desire."

As Denton extended his hand, his attention was grabbed by the sound of a car coming to a halt on the street outside. He stuck his head out the window and saw Johnny who was headed to his front door. "Guess what, Johnny!" Denton taunted. "I'm gonna get to go to a planet a million miles away and have sex with a lot of beautiful girls. You won't be kicking around the kid on 324 Sycamore Lane any more!"

The football player below just stared at him expressionless as Denton pulled his head back inside and reached for the Gailick's hand.

The little man drew his hand back. Denton looked at him blankly.

"Did you say '324 Sycamore'?" the Gailick asked.

Denton nodded.

"Oops." And in another blinding flash of light, the little man was gone.

Denton rushed to the windowsill and screamed, "No!"

A moment later he saw Johnny from across the street stride up into his room, followed by a flash of light at his window. He could make out the little man with the green jumpsuit in his room. "Aw shit," Denton moaned.

Binky's Day Off

Binky awoke Wednesday morning to discover something truly amazing. He'd won the lottery!

Four-point-two million pounds sterling. It meant he'd never have to work again!

He called his friend Lucy over to spend the day with him. At some point - he wasn't sure when - he'd tell her the good news and ask for her hand in marriage.

Lucy arrived and before long they were making love on clean sheets amid the cool breeze coming in from the open windows of his flat. As they lay together in the afterglow, Binky suggested for lunch, that they stroll down to the sidewalk cafe overlooking the River Thames. Lucy smiled. "That sounds nice," she said and kissed him on his chin.

Later, as Binky slipped his belt around his slacks, his phone rang.

"Hello," answered Binky.

"Binky," said the voice on the other end. "This is Larry from the office. Sorry to bother you on your day off."

"That's okay," Binky said.

"A job order just came through for you and I was wondering if you could manage to fulfill it, if at all possible."

Binky put the phone against his chest and looked over his shoulder. Lucy was in the kitchen, boiling water for tea. "Put it through," Binky replied.

"Are you sure? I don't want to pester you on your day off."

"It's really not a problem."

"Thanks," said the voice before clicking off.

The phone made a buzzing noise and an image slowly materialized on-screen. When the image was completed, Binky stared at it, the corners of his thin mouth turning down. He made a sucking noise through his teeth as a heavy weight settled upon him and he sighed. Slowly he opened the drawer to the dresser before him and withdrew a small 9mm automatic. He carefully threaded the silencer onto the end as he called over his shoulder, "Lucy, dear, would you come here a moment..."

He suddenly felt an icy chill in the middle of his back. He looked down and saw the shiny tip of a samurai sword protruding from his chest. Lucy's voice spoke coolly to him from behind, "Sorry, love, but you know how it is. Business is business."

Binky dropped to his knees and a trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. Alas, business is business, he thought as his hand went out to the dresser top and clenched the winning lottery ticket. He wanted to tell her the good news, but, quite frankly, there wasn't enough life left in him to speak.

His chin smacked the dresser as his body crumpled to the floor.

Lucy put a foot on his back and pulled the sword free. She lit a match and turned to look into the kitchen, where the door to the gas oven lay open. She tossed the match and slipped out of the flat just as the gas ignited.

As she scurried down the stairs, her phone rang. She looked at it and turned it off. It was Lucy's day off and work would just have to wait.

In The Beginning...

The Phoenix was breaking apart.

Captain Kelso's jaw tightened. If he didn't act fast, the entire ship, along with its three-man crew, would disintegrate, scattering debris across the surface of the God-forsaken planet below.

The ship vibrated so severely it almost loosened the Captain's fillings. He hit the comm link and yelled into it."Peterson! How many escape pods are left?"

"Two, Captain."

"I want everything that's not nailed down out of here."

"Aye-aye, Captain."

Kelso turned and locked eyes with McGee, the navigator whose young face wore  a mask of terror. "Gimme everything she's got, McGee! This is gonna be close!"

They peered through the main viewport as the darkness of space gave way to white clouds and a blue horizon. The Captain checked the gages on the console in front of him. The needle of every dial sat well past the danger limits.

From the side viewport, the two men witnessed a brilliant flash and felt  a shudder course throughout the hull. "Number two pod away!" they heard Peterson's metallic voice state over the ship's speakers.

Kelso's fingers pounded at the keyboard near his waist. "We're still coming in too goddamn heavy!" He went to the mike. "Peterson! Put Bob in the remaining escape pod!"

McGee turned, eyes wide. "No, Captain!"

"We have no choice!" He turned to the mike, "Peterson!? Do you copy?!"

Inside the storage hull, Peterson hung from the overhead railing with both hands. He'd heard the Captain's commandment and stood stoically as the implication washed over him. After a moment, he sighed, then jerkily made his way to the rec room and punched in the access code. The door slid open.

In the center of the room sat a four-hundred pound gorilla by the name of Bob. He swung a half-empty bottle of bourbon in his massive hand. He sang drunkenly, "Nobody knows the trouble I seen, nobody knows..." His great pale eyes looked up and noticed Peterson standing in front of him. "Hey there, Pete," Bob grinned. "What's shakin'?"

"Gotta get in you in the escape pod, buddy."

"Bob go bye-bye?

Peterson nodded solemnly. Bob struggled heavily to his feet. "Okay."

Once Bob was secure inside the escape pod, his eyes seemed to register what was happening to him. He put his huge hand on the plate glass window in a gesture of friendship and longing.

Peterson wiped away a tear and put his hand against the glass next to Bob's.

"Tell the guys I'm gonna miss --"

Peterson hit the eject button and the pod shot from the ship in a blinding flash of light followed by a tremendous shutter. Peterson hurried back to the flight deck.

On the bridge, the doors opened and Peterson appeared. He looked at the Captain with red embers in his eyes. "I hope you're happy, Kelso..."

"Had to be done, Pete. Now, shut up and buckle yourself in. It's gonna get bumpy."

The ship bounced against the surface of the planet, hitting every terrestrial pothole in its path. With every jolt, pieces of the ship tore off, hoses and lines broke free, nuts and bolts sprang loose. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the ship came to rest on the edge of a gigantic crater.

The three men on the bridge opened their eyes, released the air in their pent-up lungs and looked around. They erupted into cheers as the Captain tore off his restraints. "Well, you know what they say. Any landing you can walk away from --"

And then the ship exploded.

On the other side of the planet, in a lush green forest, an empty escape pod sat on its side. A trail of huge footprints led the way to Bob, who found himself surrounded by a group of curious chimpanzees.

"Speak English?" Bob asked.

"Sprenchen Sie Deutsch?"

Still no reply.

"Oh well." He shrugged.

Two of the chimpanzees approached him, taking his hands in theirs and leading him off into the jungle. Bob turned behind him and looked at the empty escape pod knowing that somehow, things were never going to be the same.

Head Over Heels

Jack knocked on the door and waited. A moment later, the door opened and there stood Veronica, dressed sharply in her evening gown, fastening a dangling earring onto her lobe. "Come in," she said with a smile.
Jack couldn't help keep his eyes off her shapely figure as he followed her in. He wanted to spin her around and plant a huge kiss on her. Awkwardly, he heard himself say, "Looks like you've been working out."
"Uh huh," she said. "Three days a week."
In Jack's mind, they were working out right now, with her straddling him on the sofa, her dress hiked above her hips, her body writhing against him.
She picked up an envelope from the kitchen counter and unceremoniously handed it to him. "Here you go."
The divorce papers.
She needed his signature. He needed her to need him like she did when they were first married, six years ago.
She turned to look at him and Jack spread his arms wide, cocking his head to one side. He gave her the best charismatic grin he could muster, the one that never fails. "One last fling, for old times sake?"
She looked at him blankly, blinked her eyes once or twice and then smiled and nodded. "Sure."
As he sailed through the kitchen screen door and tumbled head-over-heels into the back yard - right through the blooming azaleas he'd planted six months ago - one thought consumed him: I knew those damn judo lessons were a mistake!

Send in the Clowns

Detective Brown - an older, more distinguished-looking man - stood in the interview room with his partner, a younger detective with thinning red hair. Seated at the table before them was a bald man in a dingy tank-top.
The bald man looked up at the two detectives, his palms face down on the table. "I saw the guy standing there and I didn't want to stop."
Brown referred to his notes. "You said he was wearing some kinda clown outfit?"
"Well, no. Yes -- well, sort of."
"What do you mean, 'sort of'?"
"Well it was the clown costume, from the waist up."
The two men in suits looked at each other. Brown spoke."What was he wearing from the waist down?"
"Nothing."
"You mean to tell us you stopped to pick up a strange hitchhiker in the middle of nowhere -"
"- At night," interjected the younger man.
"- At night, who wasn't wearing anything below the waist?"
"I told her it wasn't a good idea."
The men sighed. Detective Brown gathered himself and continued. "Then what happened?"
"Well, he got in, we drove off and a few minutes later, I saw the knife."
"He pulled out a knife."
"Uh huh."
Again, the two men looked at each other with curious expressions. "From where?" asked the younger detective.
"I don't know. It came outta nowhere."
"And that's when you stopped the car.".
"Uh huh. I slammed on the brakes and got the hell outta there fast I could."
"Leaving your wife inside the car."
"I figured she'd do the same thing."
"But then the car drove off," Brown stated.
"Uh huh."
"And you've not heard from her since?"
"Well, I did get this in the mail a couple days ago."
The detective took it. It was a lapel flower. While the two men looked it over, the younger detective reached over and squeezed the connected bulb. Water shot from the flower hitting Brown squarely in the eye. He glared at his younger associate, who looked away sheepishly.
Brown turned back to the bald-headed man. "What do you think this means? Is he taunting us with this?"
"Who, the clown?" The man shook his head.
"Why do you say that?"
He pointed at the flower in the detective's hands. "That belonged to my wife. I gave her that on our wedding night."

Boom Boom (Rated R)

Melanie pulled the shirttail out of her skirt and slowly unbuttoned her blouse to reveal a pair of perfect breasts restrained by a white Miracle bra from Victoria Secret.

Jack thought to himself, "Holy Shit! I'm actually gonna get to touch those bad boys." He put his hands on them and began to massage them.

Melanie cooed. "Take me, Jack. Take me right here and now."

Jack looked around. The only available supportive device was an ironing board standing a few feet away. In all his thirty odd years on the planet, he had never once done it on top an ironing board. He'd come close. One time, he and big-chested Suzi from the Video Arcade did it on a pool diving board. But never on an ironing board. That was uncharted territory. So, he scooped the blonde up, carried her over to the board and laid her gently on top of it.

Melanie stared at him. "You can't be fucking serious?"

Jack nodded as his hands steadied the teetering platform. "I'm climbing on board babe and gonna give you the ride of your life." He carefully manipulated his way on top of her, balancing himself as best he could. Jack knew the goddamn thing could go any moment, but he didn't care. Hell, it was the thrill of making it with Melanie on this ricketing old thing that was so enthralling.

Melanie made room for him and gently began to tug down her skirt. As Jack began to unbutton his own fly, he felt a tremor and then the whole thing collapsed, sending him and his next door neighbor to the floor with a loud crash! Melanie screamed in agony. "Why?! Why did I allow myself to be alone with you, you moron!" Her hands went to the back of her head. Tears flowed from her eyes.

Jack stood up. He quickly looked her over, checking to make sure it wasn't too serious. He suddenly remembered the image of Suzi being catapulted into the deck chairs after he had accidentally rolled off the diving board. He shook the image loose, grabbed Melanie's hand and gently eased her to a sitting position. He turned and pointed behind him. "There's a big screen t.v. over there. Think you can make it?"

The Chickens are Coming!

Samantha Houston suddenly found herself sitting upright, breathing heavily. Her eyes darted around the room as if looking for something, checking to make sure she was alone. It took a moment before her breathing started to relax. What an unusual dream she had. A cool breeze softly billowed the gauzy white curtains. Chickens! She laughed. She’d never had a dream like that before. Man-eating, seven-foot tall chickens. The thought of it made her clinch the blanket close to her chest. She settled back down and held the covers to her throat. Yes, what a weird dream indeed.

Boom

The clock started ticking down.
Dialle looked at his partner, saw his eyes widen, the sweat rolling down his forehead.
"Are you sure this is the right wire?" Bennett asked.
"No. Are you?"
Bennett's face soured. This was gonna be bad and they both knew it. Dialle made the sign of the cross, closed his eyes and positioned his wire cutters to cut the wire.
"Wait!" Bennett suddenly shouted.
"What is it?"
"I think you should cut the red one."
"Why?" Dialle asked.
"In movies, it's always the red one. Cut the red one." Bennett nodded frantically and motioned his partner to proceed.
Dialle swallowed again and prepared to cut the red wire. Before he clamped the cutters, he gave one last look to Bennett. Bennett nodded. Go ahead.
The explosion killed everyone within a half-mile radius. Later, as they floated up to Heaven, Angel Dialle looked over to Angel Bennett who wilted under his gaze.
Finally Bennett spoke. "Think you shoulda gone with the first one."
"You think?"