It's For You!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Who murdered Dave Feldman

Submitted: July 18, 2017

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Submitted: July 18, 2017

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"Ring!" grated the new bed side phone in Dave Feldman's hung-over ears. He rolled over with the intent to ignore it. After 25 rings, though, he swore bitterly and angrily answered the thing, his mouth tasted like a rodent that didn't practice good dental hygiene, "Ye--e--ah?"he croaked into the receiver.

 

"Hey, dude!"

 

Oh shit, why would Knarly-Boy be calling him at--at--say, what time was it? He fumbled with the clock next to his bed, looked at it, 2.30 in the afternoon? Shit!

 

"Oh,' he groaned into the phone, "I can't believe I slept so late!"

 

"Hey, dude, sorry to wake you up, but I was thinking, dude,"

 

That was pretty good for Knarly-Boy. His real name was Tim Drivers, but everyone called him Knarly Boy, for a very good reason, he dressed like he was trying out for the part of 'Spicoli" in the stage play revival of 'Fast Times At Ridgemont High'.

 

'we should do something, man."

 

"What?"

 

"Oh, I don't know, dude, but something, I'm bored."

 

Dave felt a flash of anger, "You called me because--," his words were cut of mid-because because the phone cord had suddenly wrapped itself around his neck, cutting off his air supply. "Agg!" he managed to sputter into the phone, as in desperation he tried to get his hand behind the phone chord.

 

The voice of Knarly-Boy sounded in his ear, "Dude, you sound funny. If you don't want to hang out, all you have to say is 'no!'

 

"Agg! he again tried to shout, but the chord maintained its choke hold, and he staggered backwards in a desperate attempt to relieve the killing pressure, sending the lamp and picture frames next to the phone crashing to the floor. The bulb blew out as he plummeted to the carpet, looking like a fish out of water, trying in vain to breath. After a minute of saying, "Dave? Dave?" Knarly-Boy yelled, "Screw you!" and slammed the phone down. Dave struggled in vain to loosen the chords' iron grip on his windpipe for a few more minutes, then everything faded away.

 

Detective Allen Farquar shrugged, and put the file in the 'unsolved' file. He was stumped. After a thorough investigation into Feldman's murder--it was time to admit defeat, and move on to other cases. He had the same amount of clues as when the investigation had started, none. Nothing but an upturned phone, and no idea who had used it to strangle poor Mr. Feldman.

 

The End


© Copyright 2017 Mike S.. All rights reserved.

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