“I’ll get the electric chair,” Mrs. Carroll gasped. She unclenched her hands, which seconds earlier had planted a knife in her husband’s neck. Now he lay sprawled on the blood-soaked patio.
Bonesy, the life-sized plastic skeleton, had only planned to ask for basic accommodations for his fellow yard decorations — requests Mr. Carroll had always refused.
But the rules had changed. An idea formed in Bonesy’s brain-free skull and he beckoned over Lester, the illuminated gravedigger in the yard’s western corner. “Mrs. Carroll,” he drawled. “Perhaps we can come to a mutually-beneficial arrangement?”
Startled, she blinked up at him.
Day 29 of 31: 100-word Drabbles. Find Part 1 here!
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