Morticians Do It In The Cold

That woman out there on the edge of town seems a little eccentric, but you're sure she's harmless. You make small talk with her occasionally, and you pretend not to notice when you see her talking to herself. Maybe she's just trying to remember a grocery list, or what was in her dream last night. Beavers and ducks!

But then you stop at her house one evening just to be neighborly. She begins to tell you about her beef with a certain obnoxious neighbor named Bambi. You start to get the feeling that she's pretty worked up, and you try to make a polite exit. That's when you see it.



You try to quickly avert your eyes, but it is too late. She sees what you are looking at. "Oh, would you like to see what's inside?" You stammer no, telling her someone is expecting you at home. But she ignores your protests and throws open the package.

You can't be certain, but you fear you may have stumbled upon a gruesome crime scene. You make every effort to act natural as you back away, but the woman insists that you come inside her house. "It'll just take a minute," she promises, as she practically pushes you through the door. Once inside, there is no mistaking what you see before you.

This isn't good. You have a sneaking suspicion as to the whereabouts of the bothersome neighbor. The woman calls you into the next room, and fears are immediately realized.

It's official. Bambi is no more. Wondering how to get out of there and contact the authorities, you stumble backwards toward the door, fumbling for your keys and praying the woman has poor aim up close. Just as you get to the door, you hear her shout, "Can't you stay? I'm just about to have dinner!"

*There. That ought to stop all the jokes.*