EPTAs I just about finished mutilating my “friend’s” body (he wasn’t a very good friend), my cellphone rang. I never get phone calls. The last call I got was for a booty call. I didn’t know who this Stephanie was from the booty call, but needless to say I came home with plenty of food for the winter that night if you catch my drift.
I answered the phone to a sweet and charming woman’s voice, “I SAW WHAT YOU DID AND I’M CALLING THE POLICE”. How lovely. I always enjoy a race against time to clean up the evidence before the police show up. It probably wasn’t such a good idea to choose the middle of the grocery store to start mutilating my friend in but the aroma of raw meat overwhelmed me.
“Alright, don’t panic, this happens to me all the time”. Truth is, I was really quite accustomed to butchering my victims in the grocery store. It happened so often that many were afraid to go in the store because of the amount of disappearances that happened there. Luck was on my side though. Earlier that day cops found one of my projects from last week: A bathtub full of blood that I had hauled into some guy’s house while he was on vacation. I knew that would buy me a bit more time before the cops came.
I brought a grocery cart to where my friend was lying. After wiping him off and mopping the floor, I lifted him into the cart and brought him to the alcohol and liquor section of the store. I loaded up a few cases of beer into the cart, took off my employee jacket, threw it over his head, and started to proceed toward the self-checkout. But then I remembered I needed some milk and eggs, so I got those first. Hell, might as well just finish the rest of my shopping. As I loaded up the cart, someone came up to me and inquired as to my friend’s state.
“He’s drunk” I told them.
I proceeded to the checkout and exited the store. I must have had something on my mind because before I knew it I had waltzed right into traffic. A car slammed on its breaks but still rammed into the grocery cart with my dear friend in it. With all the commotion, it seemed my friend had gotten his head ran over during the crash and “died”. This really couldn’t have turned out worse for me. Why did I have to do all my shopping first? I spent all my hard earned money and now all that food is on the ground. *Sigh. But I digress. Although my dear friend has appeared to have been killed in an accident to everyone and I have been cleared of most guilt, I am still troubled by one question to which I have no answer.
Who was the phone?
