Terrible accident; body parts was everywhere—-fingers, toes, wings, beaks. Ambulance people tried to scoop him all up, but apparently it ain’t so easy as you might think—telling a chicken from a Chinaman, I mean. Anyways, they got his weight off his driver’s license, picked up a hundred and thirty pounds of pieces and buried ‘em. Now his wife come every year 'bout this time to pay her respects. We don't serve chicken while she's here. Hope you ain't got a taste for it.

R.J. Leahy

Stichwörter: humor mystery detective fat-chance

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Freedom breeds uncertainty; uncertainty invites chaos.

R.J. Leahy

Stichwörter: science-fiction dystopia noir

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