I heard her screams down the telephone line.

I heard her screams down the telephone line. Chainsaw justice, that's how they did it here. For what? All that barbarity for what?

Actually that's not how it all started. Let's go further back, to about a year before. That's when I met her. She was the one who pulled me over. "Yes ma'am?", I said as she

aimed her service weapon at me & had me exit the car with my hands in plain sight. "Look, if it's about the corpse in the backseat, I can explain. Preferably over dinner." "Fine."

she said, lowering her weapon. "But the corpse should join us, I have to keep a clean chain of custody". "Great, I'm buying!" I squealed in excitement. So that's how I ended up at

the courthouse, waiting for the jury to debate. The corpse looked like it could use a stiff drink - pun intended. Still excited, I

called my client. "The jury is in." The corpse in the back of my car was getting any alive-er, so my client might as well find out his sentence now.

the Secret Service. Tiny cameras mounted on their sunglasses picked up the ballcap's stripes and colors and analyzed them against the national terrorist database for clues as to

Who was sitting in Starbucks that afternoon when the mocha latte bomb went off and flooded the place with coffee. Shark Lady and her husband were there, then pushed the red button.

Which activated a clean up, of the flooded coffee, and vibrations of different coffee lover frequencies, from inside her metaphysical appearance.