Cops took one look at the scene, found a blond hair, and made a quick arrest. The fat Sergeant with a toothpick in his crooked little mouth said, "Pick her up, boys."

She's my girl, and I know the rush-to-judgment coppers got it wrong. Butler did it. He left the trial joyously while my girl planned her last meal..

"Spaghet t i, please."

I followed him out. Shot him until he confessed. "Robbery gone bad. We did it together.

I saw her again; we dined alone. Midway through, warden came.

She refreshed her lipstick.
We kissed goodbye.
Then, she had to leave.

thebookaconvenientsupectrivera

We spent our first night together making love, and I
expected more to come.

"Call me."

"Sure thing, babe."

Then he reached over and grabbed an unfinished
cigarette.

On the way home, I was almost hit by the drunkest
driver. I ran back to the sidewalk. He missed me by a
mile. No matter, I was in love.

Crazy love.

I went to sleep expecting to wake up to roses at my
door. But there were no roses then, or ever. No nothing.
We spent a joyous night together; that was all he
had to give.

Short term.
But perfect.

The cat was on a steep church roof; the three blind mice ran far ahead. The farmer's wife, with a carving knife, ran close behind.

Sixteen wobbly legs leaped from the roof.

The mice, with seeing eye canes to guide them, landed in soft, fresh snow. The cat died on broken glass but had eight lives to go.

The farmer's wife, resembling sliced egg-colored red, stumbled far behind. She fell from the roof, landed dead, and remained so.

Someone stole her purse.

ME's conclusion. "Death by carving knife. Anniversary gift. Defective or intended unknown. "But it worked on its own. "1