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There is a serial killer living next door Fred had tried
to explain.
What? His half asleep wife Hilda replied.
I said there is a serial killer living next door.
Go back to sleep, Hilda had whined revealing her distinct lack of teeth as she scowled at him. You are bloody hopeless
you are! She had added entirely for good measure.
Fred had looked at the digital clock- 3:03 it proudly flashed.
Putting on his dressing down and his cozy slippers he had slowly meandered downstairs and poured him self a tall
glass of milk and longingly taken a gulp.
Nothing beats the taste of cold milk, he had thought as he finishes the last of it.
It was then he noticed it. His neighbors light onagain.
He is bloody well up to something that light is always on late at night, he had pondered before returning to his
warm bed and cold wife bed, and back to her obnoxious continual snoring.
He had laid there for a moment examining his wife. He stared, almost hypnotized, at the large mole that sprouted
from her chin, trying to count how many black stubbly hairs were forcing themselves free from it.
Twenty-seven blooming years sleeping next to this, he had moaned under his breath as he finally drifted back off
to slumber
The following night Fred had suddenly awoken again and as he always did he stared at the clock 2:52 .
I am going to bloody catch him! He abruptly tried to explain, rather surprised at the sudden adrenalin which was
now racing through his system.
Hilda all at once had sat upright.
What? She sneered in her usual screeching voice as her piggy eyes condemned him further. You couldn't catch a flipping
cold on a winters morning if you were sitting on your fat arse naked in the bloody back yard on a gigantic ice
cube-bloody useless you are.
She then had returned her chubby red bloated face to her pillow and in under a minute she had resumed the obnoxious
snoring.
Fred got up and once more donned his dressing gown and slippers. Moments later as he was finishing his glass of
milk he saw that his neighbors light, yet again, was once more on.Feeling peculiarly empowered he marched out of
his front door quite taken aback at his own vigor. He swaggered up to his neighbors door and pounded furiously
on it.
I know what your bloody doing in there! He had hollered
The light was quickly extinguished.
Yet Fred was undeterred and rapped even harder on the door and yelled louder.
If you don't open the door right now I am calling the police.
This did the trick as within a few moments the door opened revealing his neighbor standing there in a long white
overcoat and rubber gloves. Fred noticed to his satisfaction that red stains liberally adorned his outfit.
The two men simply looked at each other for a few long uncomfortable seconds Then Fred proceeded by pushing through
past the doorway, through the corridor and on in to the kitchen his neighbor at his heels.
Fred saw it sitting on the counter, big silver and impressive; an industrial sausage machine. Right next to the
wonderful contraption it he saw what looked like the remains of a human left foot.
Fred had spoken first.
I have got a proposition for you he had whispered leaning into his neighbor.
One week later Fred awoke, he felt invigorated.He looked at the clock. 8:06.
Next he peered satisfied at the empty space beside him and grinned as he whispered out loud
I'll think I'll have sausages again for breakfast.
FastCounter by bCentral
For more, visit the Author's Web Site at: PSGifford.com
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