The crispautumn air carrying the scent of rotting flesh seeped through the window andawoke the middle-aged Russell Stockman. He slugged his body into a sitting up position as he pondered what hedid last night. The only thing hecould recall was that he went to the nearby carnival alone with the intentionof getting hammered. He started tostand up when he realized there was someone else in his bed. Russell turned over the body to revealthe carcass of a clown with green hair and his makeup still intact. He shrugged off the scene of the deadclown in his bed and made his way to the bathroom. Russell took out a flask and took a swig. The taste of aged whiskey seeping intohis system felt good.
He gazedinto the cracked mirror in his bathroom, which revealed the overwhelming amountof scruff he had on his face. Ashe picked up a razor, he debated what type of facial hair design he should givehimself. He could go for thehandle bar mustache connecting to a crisp chinstrap. There is always the option of a nice thick moustache thatsays, “Hey, I’m mature but I’m feeling a little crazy”. The simple soul patch and/or flavorsavor right below the lip is another option. However, Russell decided to keephis scruff the careless and manly way it was, and go for the “woodman’s”look. He then picked up histoothbrush and proceeded to brush his teeth, rinsing his mouth with whiskey. Russell took off his shirt and walkedover to the shower, only to find a slaughtered panda bear basking in its ownblood in the bathtub. He quicklydetermined that the panda was a 16-year-old male who weighed about 209 pounds. Pandas were always Russell’s favoriteanimals at the zoo. He brieflymourned over the loss of his favorite zoo animal and walked out of thebathroom.
As Russelldescended down the stairs, he almost stepped on a dead body located at the topof the staircase. The victim’sneck was slit and rich blood was caked around the gap in his neck. Quickly observing him, Russelldetermined the victim was 46-years-old, probably named Dan, and had a historyof abuse. He stepped over thebody, still wondering what happened at the carnival last night.
Russellwalked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to find the head of anunknown blonde woman staring back at him. In the eyes of Russell, she appeared to be named Nancy and must havejust came out of a serious relationship. She also appeared to be an alcoholic who was raised by hergrandmother. Satisfied with hisanalysis, Russell took a swig of his whiskey, grabbed the orange juice carton,and continued to ponder what he did last night. He sat down and began drinking the orange juice whilewatching a herd of apes playing soccer in the backyard.
“That oneape, number 56, looks like he might go pro someday,” Russell whispered tohimself as he continued to sip his orange juice.
All of asudden, there was a knocking at the door. Russell slowly rose and proceeded towards the door. He opened the door to find two policeofficers dressed in uniforms. “Heyhow’s it going?” questioned one of the police officers.
“Want tohang out?” asked the other officer before Russell could answer the firstquestion. Not wanting the policeofficers to see the dead bodies, Russell told them that he could not hang outbecause he was going over his grandmother’s house soon.
“Dude, comeon. Just for a little bit. It will be fun,” insisted the first officer. Russell had no choice. He apprehensively let the officers inthe house.
Russellfollowed the officers into the living room and sat down on the couch next tothem. His heart sank as he sawwhat appeared to be a dead 32-year-old Lebanese midget sitting in his favoritearmchair across from the couch. The midget’s right arm looked to have been recently severed off. Russell began to perspire and his headached out of nervousness. “Howlong has he been asleep? Hey, what do you say we give him the Belgian Wafflebefore he wakes up!” declared the first officer. The other officer confirmed that giving the midget theBelgian Waffle was the best idea ever; so the two of them quickly exited theliving room in search of syrup and a tennis racket.
As thepolice officers left the room, Russell took advantage of his time alone bytaking another swig from his whiskey flask and trying to figure out how toresolve the situation. Two minuteslater the officers eagerly rushed back into the room with the materials theyneeded to perform the Belgian waffle. “Maybe it would be easier if we put him on the ground” the secondofficer suggested.
“Good idea;Russell, come help us out over here,” replied the first officer. Russell anxiously got up off the couchand wandered over to the armchair where the Lebanese midget lay. The three grabbed him by his arm andtwo legs and struggled to drag the 74-pound Lebanese midget onto the floor.
“Now watchthis!!” the first officer said excitedly to the other two as he began pouringsyrup onto the midget’s stomach. When he had finished he wielded the tennis racket, walked to the otherside of the room, and did a running jump slam attack onto the midget’s stomachas he yelled “BELGIAN WAFFLE!!!” at the top of his lungs. KA-PWOW, the tennis racket hit themidget square in the stomach causing blood to spray out of his severed arm allover Russell, drenching him from head to toe.
“Wow, hemust be really tired if he didn’t wake up after that” commented the secondofficer. Russell stood theredripping in blood, drenched and confused, not knowing what to do, so he took aswig of his whiskey for inspiration. He decided to ask the officers what they were at his house for. The two officers refused to tell himclaiming that it was highly confidential and would compromise the investigationif they told him anything.
“Is thereany way I can help you out in the investigation,” asked Russell.
“No, wewill just have a look around your house and leave,” replied the firstofficer. Russell apprehensivelyagreed and began showing them around the house, opting to pass up his bedroomand bathroom.
During thetour of the house, the officers continued to insist on taking a trip to theattic because “their instinct told them there was something importantthere”. Finally, Russell led themto the pull down attic where the first officer pulled down the steps andseveral various body parts came tumbling out onto the floor.
“I knewthere was something important here,” exclaimed the second officer “how do youexplain this Russell?
“Ermmm…ughh… I run a Halloween costume store and those are just props for myadvertisement,” Russell responded as the obvious stench of death quickly filledthe air.
“Do youhave any other costumes up there, because my 8-year-old daughter wants to beJose Tyler from Star Trek for Halloween this year,” inquired the firstofficer.
“Of course,go on up the light is on the left,” Russell said. Once the two officers climbed into the attic, Russellswiftly and adeptly closed the attic pull down as he had practiced, trappingthe police officers inside.
Stressedout by his nerve-racking morning, Russell decided he needed to go for a walk tocalm himself down. Ten minuteslater he left the house, still drenched in blood, and began walking down thestreet towards the carnival. Afterhe had walked two blocks, a policeman with a dog walked up to him.
“Are youRussell Stockman?” the officer asked.
“Yes I am,how may I help you,” Russell replied.
“You areunder arrest for..” BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, three gunshots interrupted him, strikingRussell, the officer, and the dog. Their mangled bodies fell to the ground deceased in the street.
EndFragment
