by a Group of Writing Enthusiasts with Sweet Tooths (Sweet Teeth?)
The bloodied corpse fell off the balcony. The half-dragon assassin, with silver scales reflecting the moonlight, watched as his target—a demon in the guise of a nobleman—slammed into the firm earth and expired.
“I have hunted you long, old friend,” quoth the assassin. “My body has withered with the passage of the years, but my mind—and within it, the desire to kill—has only been honed.”
The willows watched with hushed whisper as Pascal padded patiently up to the demon’s corpse.
“So, it’s come to this,” he spat, giving Pascal the nastiest look he’d gotten in a while—since he broke up with Pamela, actually—“an old-fashioned, Cordon Bleu style soufflé-off!”
“These assertions are inherently problematic,” he said.
Suddenly a cork fell from the sky and landed on a tiny crab perched on the body. The crab let out a scream that pierced the night air.
Distracted, the assassin did not notice the crab’s accomplice, who spun the cork around to reveal the writing carved into it. The inscription, written in blood, said “Beware the eye.”
Cows are cool!
At which point, milk began spewing from the eyes of the corpse. “Not again,” quoth the corpse as it rose from its supposed eternal slumber.
Along came a dying kitten, starved and virtually dead. But how could that happen if another had arranged it all? Only if mother was actually a kitten-killer!
That is an interesting twist in the story.