Coke Psycho

There are Coke cans sitting on my desk. I’m not entirely sure how they got there, but I know I didn’t put them there. So I get up to investigate.

I ask the neighbor who clips his hedges if he broke into my house and put the Coke cans there. He denies it, but I know he’s lying. So I take the hedge clippers and drive then trough his neck. As he spasms on the ground, gurgling and spewing, I realize that he was at the grocery store last night… It couldn’t have been him.

My. What a waste.

I move on to the mailman. He regularly drinks Coke on his route, which is pretty dangerous if you ask me. He’s got all that precious paper to get to people. Anyway, he denies it, saying that it would be against regulations. I don’t buy it. His face becomes one with the steering wheel, and his bag becomes one with the gas pedal. He speeds off like a crazy person, taking out several mailboxes before smashing into a tree and bursting into flames. How ironic.

Wait. My brother. He drinks Coke all the time…

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