"Crap," you said as your gaze fell upon the melting chocolate. You were five minutes away from your destination and ten minutes late for the interview. This was one more thing that chapped your ass. Like Lloyd said, "I got no food, I got no job, our pet's head fell off, and now the chocolate is melting. I'm such a loser... " At least nothing worse could happen, Lloyd thought, just before lightning struck the tree outside his house. A large branch crashed down onto his neighbor's brand new Cadillac. Lloyd shrugged. "Not my Cadillac! Still can't get any worse than this!" Just as he thought this, his son stumbled into the house, covered in blood and...mustard? "Dad, I killed about twenty-seven orphans at the hot dog stand. The nuns told me to do it. I tried but the voices won't stop." Lloyd knew Catholic School was a dreadful idea. Immediately he turned the stand into an organic pumpkin -pesticides, you know-. I looked at him trying to remember what pesticides I knew. My first thought was the florist on Lagrange Street but then I remembered he was Lithuanian just like Charles Bronson. And everyone knows that Charles Bronson wouldn't hurt a fly. No, I was going to have to buy a loaded gun in an alley and then shoot the hell out of the bugs in my apartment. It was time for the bug war. No bug would escape those lil shits have been haunting me since childhood. Mosquitos, flies, moths and all your cousins. i'm coming for you. And all of you dirty ass little bugs are going to HELL. Merry Christmas.

 

Comments

1 Woab's photo

Melting chocolate leads to bug infestations and murder. Ask Charles Bronson.

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