Poor Freddy-Joe Young

Mellissa Sue sat cross-legged on the sofa, a carton of chocolate Ben & Jerrys between her legs. She sat on his end of the sofa, the nicer end, not the end where the stuffing was coming out. He wouldn’t mind.

She was enjoying the smooth buttery taste on her tongue. It was nice in the house too, no fighting, no blaring tv, and none of that rap crap assaulting her eardrums. Just blessed silence.

Oh, darn, there goes the silence, she thought. Sirens were blaring, and getting closer. She glanced over at the little .22 lying in the middle of the room where she’s gently placed it. She hadn’t dropped it because she was afraid it would go off and strike her.

She scooped out another spoonful of icecream. Ummm, so good. Guess there’s none for you, Mister Freddy-Joe Young.

Freddy-Joe had his head on the table making a mess, as usual, with is blood.

Suddenly the sirens went silent. It’s about time,she thought.

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