A Wrinkle In Crime

Noir Street.jpg

Crime is as inevitable as evening.

Alexander Sokolov had just committed the perfect murder. The emotions within him were wrestling with each other like overactive enzymes in an empty stomach. As is often the case with a murderer, guilt was prevalent.

Three long grueling years ago, Alexander inadvertently binge watched the Forensic Files™. There was a 48-hour marathon, and he couldn’t find the remote control. In his defense, he was home from work after being discharged with the flu, or influenza. There was no way in balls he was going to get up from the couch. He could not. Sore muscles, nausea, dizziness, dry mouth, fatigue, yet constipated were the culprits causing his immovable ass. He felt like he was o.d.’ing on Aldomet®. A medication used to treat high blood pressure. Users of Aldomet® should ask their doctor before taking it, for it can cause or lead to serious pancreatitis, hepatitis, and Bell’s palsy.

This bedridden experience taught him many things, most importantly, when immobile, do not lose the remote control, secondly, what not to do when killing someone.

Don’t be the boyfriend or husband of the deceased was a no-brainer. He was destined to be eternally single. Nothing would ever stand in the way of his freedom. He would often confirm this by pounding his fist on anything, while grabbing his crotch. Truth is, he was so ugly to begin with; he considered it a compliment when people called him homely.
Don’t kill anyone you know.
Don’t be a serial killer. Limit yourself to one murder.
Don’t talk. Don’t tell. Duh.
Don’t leave anything behind. No DNA. No fingerprints. No nothing.
No witnesses. No cameras. No phones. Go off the grid.
Don’t ever return to the scene of the crime.

He had successfully not done any of these things, while stabbing an elderly man to death with a very sharp icicle. Alexander used his left hand, since he was right handed. He wore gloves. He did it in an unmonitored underpass beneath the highway. He even managed not to get a single drop of blood on himself. He was pretty damn proud.

Sadly, as Alexander prepared to leave, he fell into a spike pit trap. It was cleverly camouflaged. He twitched and spasmed, pierced and skewered by the spikes. It took over a minute for him to finally accept death. His dying facial expression was wide-eyed with his mouth forced open.


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