Why Veronica Has My Pants

Veronica has my pants because she killed me last Tuesday.  I was a drag queen named Wanda and I was travelling with my uncle, Susan.  Susan used to beat me, just like her puppy, Fred.  Veronica killed me because I was dating Susan and she didn't approve of that.  She also stole my mouse.  The dead one.  George gave it to me when I was so young.  But not young enough to forget.

 

So I went to Giant Eagle and bought the best veal I could.  I tied it to my upper thigh that day she killed me.  She killed me good.  She removed everything from me.  Even the burrito I bought from Taco bell last week.  She removed everything.  She left three parts of me in Pheonix and the rest on the road where her car broke down. 

 

The sun was especially hot that day.  The heat was unbearable.  The veal was rotting.  The smell of an elderly person.  As if they had been cooked in a large microwave.  My god, the smell.  Of myself.  Rotting in the sunlight.

 

Uncle Susan came looking for me, but he only saw Veronica eating my upper thigh.  She was starved for veal.  And I was the only one that could give it to her.

 

"More veal." she cried.

 

And Uncle Susan hit her with a shovel named, Sam.

 

Uncle Susan stuffed Veronica in the car's radiator and drove to Pheonix to retrive the rest of me.

 

"I love you, Wanda." My uncle said.

 

He scratched his bottom and moaned.  He stopped at a public restroom to finish eating the veal.  And Veronica.

 

She tasted like salty Orbit Gum.

Reviews

[Inda Lauryn]

Bizarre! Still, it's got such a funny charm to it. I don't know quite how to describe it, but it's definitely a fun read.