A few more

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A few more
by Harbinger of Death

“Hey, take a look at this, will you?” Easter Bunny gave the Harbinger a few murder plans he’d drawn up.

“Hm…okay…Well, I don’t know if we can do all of these.”

“Why not??”

“This one’s based on a play, and this one’s based on real life.”

“But they were made into movies!”

“Yeah, but…”

“So technically they fit our M.O.” EB was defensive. Harbinger decided to let it ride.

“All right, looks good to me. Have at it.”

“Thanks, dude!” Bunny hopped off to watch some more movies.


“We always get stuck doing a beer run,” grumbled aneXa.

“It’s your fault for having the nicest car,” AmAzOn said, lying back against the smooth leather and relishing the way the bucket seat molded around her.

“I knew I shouldn’t have made such a major purchase with the money I embezzled from the university coffers. Still, it is a pretty sweet car. And you can fit a couple of pony kegs in the trunk.”

“You have to turn here to get to the Jug,” Tori reminded her from the back seat.

“I thought we were going to the Booze Box,” said Orlena. “In that case, you’d turn at the next road, not this one.”

“We’ll just go to the Jug. It’s closer.” AneXa turned, and they went in to get their beer. On the way home, she said, “You guys wanna see how fast this thing can go?”

“Yes!” said Orlena. “I love going fast. It turns me on.”

“Me too,” said Tori. “Put the top down, too.”

“Wait a minute, let me put this scarf on first,” said Zoni. “I just got my hair done and I don’t want it mussed up.”

When the top was down and they were ready, aneXa pushed the pedal hard and they went flying. “Woo hooooo!” they all cried excitedly, the wind swirling around and through them.

After a few minutes, Orlena said, “Okay, you can stop now! I think we’re going a little TOO fast.”

“Yeah, slow down, hon,” said Zoni.

“I can’t!” cried aneXa. “The brakes are out!”

“Then let off the gas pedal!” shouted Tori.

“I did, but it won’t come off the floor!”

The girls hollered as the convertible wove all over the road, dangerously fast and out of control. Suddenly a cliff appeared before them.

“TURN! TURN!” they all yelled, including the driver. But although she tried, the car had too much momentum and they went sailing off the edge.

Among the wreckage at the base of the cliff, they found a little piece of paper with a picture of a red convertible with Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis inside of it. The Harbinger of Death had struck again.

“I love double dates,” said Birdly, putting her arm in Cathbad’s.

“Me too.” Ladybug cozied up to Omar. “And I love popcorn too.”

“I can take a hint,” said Omar, and popped a piece in her mouth. She licked the salt from his fingers. “Well, now I don’t need a napkin,” he noted.

“That was a good movie,” said Cathbad.

“You’ve seen it so many times,” said Birdly. “You still like it that much?”

“Everybody loves 9 ½ Weeks,” he said.

“The refrigerator game is the best,” said Omar.

“It is indeed. Who wants a soda?” asked Ladybug.

“Me,” said Bird. She retrieved drinks for Bird and herself, and they popped the cans open and filled their mouths with the bubbly liquid.

Then the amazons began to choke, foam coming from their lips. The guys tried to help them, but in moments the girls stopped breathing.

They were panicked. Suddenly the answer became clear to them both, as if a neon sign had appeared before their eyes. Their favorite sex kittens were dead. Life could not go on.

The two hunters marched silently to the kitchen and located the Drano. They drank deeply from the bottle and flushed out their systems.

Momentarily, the girls woke up, feeling groggy. “What the heck was that?” Ladybug asked, inspecting the soda can. “It was NOT Diet Rite.”

“No joke. Hey, what’s going on in the kitchen?” Bird wondered, spying a shoe from the doorway. They found the two bodies and screamed, running around the room in a tizzy. Ladybug’s shirt caught the edge of a drawer and the contents came spilling out. Silverware covered the floor.

Like their boyfriends, they were struck with a sudden and obvious solution. Their precious love slaves were no more. What else could they do? They each grabbed for the sharpest knife they could find, and drove it deep into their bodies, making a fleshy sheath for the blades. The lovers’ bodies were heaped upon one another, limbs entangled, just as they had been in life.

After the deed was done and all was quiet, a tattered page from “Romeo and Juliet” fluttered silently to the floor.

October 23 2000 


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