"Yesterday has to be taken with a grain of

"Yesterday has to be taken with a grain of salt", she said in her usual, quiet demeanor. Personally, I viewed it more as a Murphy's Law situation, because that's our luck when it

comes to murder. Everything went wrong. The car just barely clipped the victim. The gun misfired into the tire so we had to go on foot. Glen, frustrated, killed the getaway driver

by suffocating him with the sheepskin car seat cover. Just as he opened the door the police cruiser pulled up behind him. "Hey," the cop said with his head out the window. Glen sat

on the toilet than might wishing he'd never tried the Hot Wing flavored Ruffles as he now was becoming intimately familiar with the term, "ring of fire." He fought back little sobs

and prayed that the toilet paper would be both sufficient and soft. There was an insistent knocking at the door. "Are you alright?" He moaned "Go away, I'm just

tears away. The dense physical and emotional trauma he had suffered through in the last five minutes aged him. "Okay, okay... you can come in." I unlocked the door,

and the girl scout skipped inside. Her large bag of cookies swung freely on her back. "So what'll it be mister? I got all the good stuff. Fresh too." She handed him a clipboard.

He thought he had overcome his addiction but every year she was at his door. He scanned frantically down the list. "Gimme five boxes of everything! and twice as many Samoas!"

She gave him twice of each. She never should have given him such amount. He got mad, teared the list apart, and started jumping on it, then left like a lonely cowboy.