“Celery Johnson, singer-songwriter of Pop Hit Amanda’s Front Teeth, was found dead in—”
—
Celery opened the fridge. The song played lightly in the distance. Her front teeeeeeeth. Beer wouldn’t do it. Not this time.
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Are gaping hoooooles. His dealer’s ring tone nearly set him off. He shook and shivered.
“Take the call, I can wait.”
—
He picked up chips and beer from the QuickMart. It didn’t play on the PA. It played in his head.
I punched ‘em.
—
His ghost watched the investigation. The song in his head was on slightly different tempo than the version on the cops’ cellphones.
#44
2 comments:
I like the compression of this story. No unnecessary details. A wallop at the end. Good job!
Thanks, man! Glad you enjoyed it.
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