According to certain parties who will remain nameless but her initial is G, my prompts for this upsoming flash suck. Not like a cute suckling piglet like the one on that tori amos album several years back (I understand there was music included with that as well) but like the ugly runt kitten that looks like a bit like a field mouse left out during the first frost sucking on the hind tit. I figure with a build up like that I can’t rightfully apologize or defend. In leiu of any such social skills I offer the below --- an unfinished no-bake flash leftover from October flashs. It was hiding in the sub basement of my red headed step drive.
I can only make guess’s as to why this boo radley of a flash never saw the light of day, chief among them being a pervasive lack of interest on the authors part. The author is a son-of-a-bitch and a disappointment to the entire Drools clan; honest working folks what pay their dues and leave be the sinners to their own rewards. That’s an outright lie. Just the same there is something fiercely wrong with that haredawg drools fellow, not organic, it’s like he stared at an eclipse too long or something.
So, either by way of an apology (which I am certainly not making) or a defense (which I not making even harder than the meager effort I put into not making an apology) I offer this as a prompt. Um, this being the stuff below, not italicized, or edited or possibly entirely in one of the several known and documented languages used on this planet. The idea is you can finish it or give it a decent burial. More than likely though you’ll just ponder whether this is an honest attempt at a lack of an apology or some sort further bad prompting and, if the latter, is it some sort of proof of how genuinely heinous a prompt can be or is he (that’d be me, that savage drools fellow) trying to be funny?
“Ok, so which one’s my corpse?”
“The without the head.”
“You don’t need a ME detective, you want a straight man. Two drink minimum for that.”
“The guy without the head is pertinent to the investigation. The rest of them are yours too, but I wanna know about the guy without the head. For one thing, I’m having a hard time IDing him, for another the others seemed to have died of natural causes.”
“How’s that?”
“Some beast straight out of nature gnawed on them.”
“And you don’t want autopsies? Like, I don’t know, my professional; guess as a straight man as to what kind of beast?”
“I figure it was a big one, and yeah, doc, there’ll all yours consider it Chanukah for gentiles, you get em all on one night.”
“Fuck you too ya mick. Any idea what happened here?”
“I got plenty of ideas doc but none I want to explain to the board. I emptied a clip and half of a second one. “
The doctor looked around at the carnage. “Emptied a clip into who?”
“The guy without a head. I’d like to have the cause of death, at bare minimum, before committing this to paper.”
“I’d say, just on cursory inspection he died of a severe loss of a head.”
“Yeah. And yet it took fourteen rounds to put him down, head or no. The board is going to want to know.”
“How’m I supposed to put that in a report.”
“Welcome to my world, you, you lucky son of bitch, just have to tell me how they died, me, I gotta explain why or how it’s possible. Not to step on your toes or anything, but you see all them raggedly gnaw marks and tears to the jugular on the rest? My GSW headless perp looks almost surgical, I mean the head, the close range 15 hollow points burnt in neat little target groups not so much, but the head …”
“Perp? You think he did the gnawing with his neck hole?”
“Again, welcome to my world. Just one of these guys doesn’t make sense, but you know, a rabid cocker spaniel makes a report. Seventeen of them, so far, and maybe it’s a gang of rabid cocker spaniels. The headless guy is a problem. I might could put together a theory if we find the head. I’ve had the staties combing the woods for two hours now. Maybe my headless friend is from Ohio and the feds’ll take over.”
The ME had the bullet riddled headless man put in the back of his personal wagon and instructed the EMT’s as they arrived on the scene to take the chew toys to county and two different private meat lockers. He didn’t have room for all of them at county.
“you ok detective?”
He snorted “Doc I’m never going to be Ok again. Look at this shit.”
The detective handed over a stack of poloroids taken before the staties came to stomp on the crime scene for search and recovery.
“Huh. Devil worshipers?”
“Maybe, I mean those are pentagrams and squiggly symbols and shit. I got a hard enough time believing a saltine and a sip of red wine gets you eternal salvation without wrapping my head around making a phone call to Satan to come gnaw on you, but, yeah, those are going in the file. You know the guy who gives you the saltine and table wine has a fucking PhD in God, and he can’t get god to show up as a guest speaker. How is it a bunch of numbnuts who couldn’t take a GED without cheating can call up the devil? Prince of lies really not that discerning?”
“Who are you asking? I got a PhD in cutting open corpses. Far as I can tell we’re all put together pretty much the same. I take out the heart and weigh it. Never seen Christ actually accepted into a heart or any little guy with horns whispering in there. You got a few ventricles a few aortas and a muscle that pumps.”
“Betcha those guys all have heads, the lack of which pretty much keeps em from coming at an officer of the law too.
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