Having just published part one of a three-part novel, for which work on parts two and three are needed before adding them to the illustrious set, I’ve been pondering the thought of what’s next? Unless I take another dramatic road trip and make a sequel for Thirty Days Across the Big Pond: Parts One, Two and Three (I left myself wide-open in the story line for doing so), another genre of literary prose with different topics should be explored, not just falling into the rudimentary trap of penning a string of novels with the same theme, unless magical material like the Harry Potter anthology is stashed within the author’s bag of tricks.
Edgar Allan Poe, one of my all-time-favorite authors and poets, was partial to short stories and became the master of detective-style literature, dealing with the macabre nature of life, establishing an unique style of writing. With that in mind, I decided to try my hand at such off-the-wall, short-story material, and further shortened several lurid tales from the dark side of my warped imagination to come up with news snippets, as one would hear broadcast on the radio.
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An obese person was found impaled on an upholstered task chair, whose center-support piston broke entirely though the main frame, straight up and piercing the seat, plunging deep within the dead man’s rectum. “His eyes were still wide-open and bulging when found by the landlord and the paramedics,” according to the terrified woman who lived upstairs from the victim and called for help. “I’ll never forget his bloodcurdling screams. I won’t be able to sleep tonight.” The body was wheeled out on the chair’s base and removed from the scene.
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A local musician and songwriter was found bludgeoned to death in her fashionable Soho flat, brutally killed by a baseball bat, allegedly by a faithful Twitter follower who, according to friends of the deceased, had been stalking the victim’s timeline since becoming connected to the young woman on the social-media conglomerate. Turns out, the celebrity had activated the GEO-locator in her Twitter profile, identifying her location, and ultimately tipped off the assailant. The information was added to the outgoing tweets from her smartphone. The murderer, who was found dead at the scene, had evidently killed himself with a bullet to the head; a gun was found in the massive pool of blood on the floor alongside what was left of the fanatic’s totally obliterated, unrecognizable head; and the baseball bat was still rammed inside the naked woman’s blood-encrusted body—specifically in her rectal orifice. Printed directions from Mapquat.com, along with a Google map captured from Twitter’s location designator, were found in the killer’s possession when discovered by police, leading investigators to their conclusion.
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Instant karma reared it’s nasty head at a dastardly derelict who was stealing the wheels off a classy automobile in the middle of the night, committing the crime in a dimly lit, apartment-complex parking lot. Evidently while the last tire was being removed, as the other three exposed wheel-mounting rotors rested on rocks to allow the perpetrator to remove the jack from underneath the vehicle, something shifted; or else one of the exposed rotors slipped off the small boulder that held it off the ground, causing the car to crash down and sink into the asphalt, shearing off the bandit’s head in the process. His crushed cranium remained wedged in between the top of the upright tire and the inside of the auto’s wheel well. The victims body was found kneeling as if in prayer, leaning against the right-rear quarter panel of the SUV, now repainted with a large spattering of crimson-colored blood.
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Lastly, A 24-year-old woman, labeled in the tabloids as an obsessive gold digger, has been found guilty of first-degree murder for the poisoning death of her 85-year-old husband. “The newly weds were on their honeymoon when the victim was fed Long Island Teas made with ethylene glycol, otherwise known as antifreeze,” said the prosecuting attorney after the verdict. “The young woman was already heading out of town when arrested.” According to the hotel staff, testifying at the trial, the room was found filled with trails of vomit, blood and excrement throughout the entire suite of rooms, evidently the result of multiple-organ failure and extreme convulsions, which occurred twelve to twenty-four hours after ingesting the sweet-tasting poison, undetectable when mixed with alcohol in cocktails. Forensics determined the cause of the multimillionaire’s death during the immediate autopsy. The convicted murderess was spotted by a patrolman after an all-points bulletin was issued for her arrest, while she was filling up her Lamborghini at a gas station before the entrance to the Interstate for parts east.
“The car stood out like the ‘Yellow Rose of Texas'” the arresting officer was quoted as saying. “You don’t see many of those highfalutin automobile in these parts.” The New York City woman was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole.
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That was fun. I like playing the bad guy behind the scenes. For my good-guy guise, see my latest novel which inspired me to write the above ghastly copy for a gruesome newscast. As an opportunity to plug my tome, the following link presents my latest publication: http://www.lulu.com/shop/mike-slickster/thirty-days-across-the-big-pond-part-one/ebook/product-21133275.html. A free preview contains the table of contents and first chapter in its entirety, to hopefully hook and snare you to purchase the wacky tale.
Thanks in advance for your continual support.