The Duck Quacks Twice

[monkeysama]

It was a warm, rainy, late May morning. The sun was filtered through a layer of thick white clouds that looked like mashed potatos schmeard across the sky. "Mmmmm potatos..." thought private detective Jay Stickson. Seven thirty A.M. was strange territory for Jay, his theory being that man was not supposed to exsist before eleven at the earliest.

Comments

[trippytrivy]

4 pm, Jay Stickson is sprawled on the couch, laying in a way that would only be comfortable to the dead and the unconcious. All sound stops; light snoring becomes the rhythm of the day.