Friday
February 12, 2008 – 11:00 am
The evil taxman woke up slowly. He hadn't slept very well, and he suspected
he knew why. His bed was just too convenient for trysts. It was out of the
way; therefore the participants were unlikely to be interrupted. It was just
the right height. It was sturdy, easily able to hold two bodies. And the lid
was polished and smooth. No splinters.
But they forget, or don't care that it was HIS bed! He got out of his coffin
and got dressed. He shut the lid and looked at it with a sigh. Yup, someone
had been here. Chocolate syrup spots, and sticky drops. He scraped at one
and raised it to his mouth. Honey.
Not much to narrow down the suspects. Neither Cat, Friday nor Ali was averse
to sweet accoutrements. But then he spotted the feather stuck to one drop of
honey. A soft and iridescent feather. A Muse's feather. Friday's feather.
As he cleaned his coffin, he made ...