The rusty tin flag hanging outside the mairie

The rusty tin flag hanging outside the mairie creaked in the sirocco wind. Dust from the Sahara got in her eyes as she walked down the track to see the mayor. He was the richest fa

t head in the Sahara. He had lots of stupid things that only wacky rich people buy, toy helicopters, fart machines, breast covers for beers. She hated her mayor and now she was

his trophy wife. The mayor adjusted his luminescent tie which read 'Kiss me in the dark baby?' "Hon, let me help." she said and pulled the knot tighter.. and tighter.

"Not in public, dear," squeaked the mayor, clearly the S to her M. "The press will have a field day!" But this time, the safe word didn't work. The mayor's trophy wife pressed

her nails harder into his back until she saw him wince. She smiled in pleasure.

Haglund to the scene of the crime, but it was too late. All usable evidence had long been eliminated, so there was nothing for it but to rush to the nearest doughnut shop and drown

in coffee, jelly, and creme. The nearest doughnut shop was also the largest in the world, a converted Home Depot featuring over 3000 types of pastries. Haglund ordered twenty-two

double doubles to start, and then the real eating began. He tucked an old fashioned into a Boston crème and then smushed it between two bear claws. Haglund had three of these, and

two Apple pie a la bourbons, plus a dozen or so amaretto sugar cookies. And that was just the start. Later, as everyone gathered at his funeral, they agreed: He lived a full life.