“I beg your pardon,” Ignatius said, releasing the purple headed girl to the ground. She fell in a heap, sobbing quietly.

“Bernice,” Randall said, his face pale, his voice dry, “what the hell?”

“Can it Kinney,” she said without looking at him. She stared at Ignatius, her eyes glittering strangely. “I’ve already drawn up the paperwork for you, my dear. It’s been sitting on my desk for months now, and it will be so good to sweep you up with the rest of the filth.”

“It wasn’t Ignatius. It was Marla.”

“Marla? Where the hell’s Marla?”

“Dusted.” Randall shrugged while the dead girl on the floor let out a high pitched squeal.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)