Thursday, November 5, 2009



Chuck was finding it hard to sit still. They should be behind bars for the rest of their lives, not walking around free to move on with their lives. Their investigation proved that Tonya was the wicked witch everyone said she was, but that never justified murder. He took a sip of his drink and waited for the story to continue.
“This is when it gets really good. Dorian was squeezing the life out of her, and she was flailing like a caged animal. ‘Stop moving or I’ll beat you to death myself!’ You really had to be there to appreciate it. The blood had rushed to his face, and he was sweating like a pig. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his face was so distorted and intense I was afraid he was gonna hurt himself. I’m telling you, I see the man every day, and you would’ve never guessed he was our esteemed governor. Anyway, it was time for me to step back in, because Dorian had lost control. Are you still intrigued?”
Chuck could feel his service revolver against his ribs. What he wouldn’t give to pop off a few rounds to put a stop to this. “Can’t you tell I’m glued to my seat?”

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