Freshly Severed Heads
by Christopher Hivner
“If it hadn’t been trash day I never would have seen them and if their eyes hadn’t been open they wouldn’t have been able to accuse me. I didn’t do it, I pled with them, I don’t even know you. The one that was upside down glared at me, the left side of her face slowly sinking into a discarded piece of cheese pizza. Is it wrong that the slice still made my mouth water? It was from Rico’s after all. Why are you mad at me, I shout? I didn’t throw away a thick slice of Rico’s. Oh, and I didn’t kill you, dumping you in the trash, either. The one in the middle looks angry. He’s sitting on a block of urine-soaked cat litter like he’s about to make a speech. Tell me who killed you I laughed but he just stayed angry. The third guy looks like a ballplayer I knew once from Philly. We called him The Worm because he had fat, puffy lips. This guy who lost his body looks like he’s blowing me a kiss. Uh oh, the mound is shifting, he’s falling over. Yep, he’s gone, down to the bottom of the bin. Angry guy is still accusing me. Hey, I didn’t do nothin’. You know what, I’ve had it with all of you and your attitudes. I’m going . . .”
thwack thump
“Oh man, this isn’t Rico’s, it’s Mario’s. Yuck.”
Christopher Hivner keeps the world at bay in south central Pennsylvania and writes in several different genres because he can't decide who he is. His writing life is currently being documented at www.chrishivner.com
by Christopher Hivner
“If it hadn’t been trash day I never would have seen them and if their eyes hadn’t been open they wouldn’t have been able to accuse me. I didn’t do it, I pled with them, I don’t even know you. The one that was upside down glared at me, the left side of her face slowly sinking into a discarded piece of cheese pizza. Is it wrong that the slice still made my mouth water? It was from Rico’s after all. Why are you mad at me, I shout? I didn’t throw away a thick slice of Rico’s. Oh, and I didn’t kill you, dumping you in the trash, either. The one in the middle looks angry. He’s sitting on a block of urine-soaked cat litter like he’s about to make a speech. Tell me who killed you I laughed but he just stayed angry. The third guy looks like a ballplayer I knew once from Philly. We called him The Worm because he had fat, puffy lips. This guy who lost his body looks like he’s blowing me a kiss. Uh oh, the mound is shifting, he’s falling over. Yep, he’s gone, down to the bottom of the bin. Angry guy is still accusing me. Hey, I didn’t do nothin’. You know what, I’ve had it with all of you and your attitudes. I’m going . . .”
thwack thump
“Oh man, this isn’t Rico’s, it’s Mario’s. Yuck.”
Christopher Hivner keeps the world at bay in south central Pennsylvania and writes in several different genres because he can't decide who he is. His writing life is currently being documented at www.chrishivner.com
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