Hot Air Balloon

Murder With a Bad Altitude

My wife walked four paces behind me, a pink Colt revolver in her hand.H

I mocked her. “Shoot me with your pinkie, and I might need a couple stitches to close the flesh wound.”

“It’s a thirty-eight. One shot into your cerebellum, they won’t bother with stitches.” Suddenly she’s a neurologist.

I couldn’t point out my cerebellum, but I knew it was in my brain. Probably right in front of the barrel of her Colt. My path led me to a hot air balloon.

“Climb aboard,” she said.

I objected. “But I don’t know how to pilot one of – ” her smile, the one that used to melt me, froze me now – “oh, I see.”

She pulled the anchors, cut the mooring lines, and I was airborne. The wind swept me away so quickly, I missed her parting wave.

hot air balloonI don’t know if she cleverly planned the power line or if that was a stroke of luck to end things early, but that’s where the fire started. And where my life ended.

 

It’s tough to use a hot air balloon as a murder weapon, but give my wife an incentive and a pink revolver and suddenly strange things begin to happen. Excuse me while I check my life insurance policy and figure out what’s going to get me with the letter I:

  • Ice cream
  • Ice sculpture
  • Iron cross
  • Ivory soap
  • Ivy, of the poison variety
  • I don’t know yet

You’ll have to come on back tomorrow to find out. I’m still digging my way outta my grave from the hot air balloon “accident.”

28 thoughts on “Hot Air Balloon

  1. I begin to worry about how your wife seems to relish killing you. How frustrating for her that you keep coming back. Tomorrow you might avoid all things that begin with “I” including first person narratives lest you steal your wife’s thunder and kill yourself.

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  2. I was really into the writing of this one. It reminded me in combination of like a black and white movie with the old timey gangster ish accent and Palahniuk’s writing. That’s a huge compliment coming from me! :p I’m not sure if that comment made any sense….nice job!

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