One Friday night Sally was home alone. She danced to the tunes of her
favorite Beatles album as she prepared for the auctions. She packed
every single knick-knack she knocked off around the neighborhood, with
care. Tomorrow, come noon, she will score big. In those boxes sat a gold
mine of cash.
Startled by a flash, she turns viewing the emergency alert, "Rapist escaped, last seen on Downey Street, armed and dangerous!"
At once, she ran and locked the doors and windows, waiting with the shotgun by her side. Thirty minutes later a knock, a click - the lock got picked. Sally stood fast, waiting to teach this pervert a lesson. As the door crept open, she seized her assailant's attention; stripping and spinning as the sick bastard watched and sung a melody to bring fear. But to his surprise, she grabbed him, shoving the defender of death into his gut, forcing him to masturbate. And when he least expected it, she reached in — SLASH, CUT — pureed at high speed, right into a cup.
With the barrel pointed, taking his last breath, he forced himself to drink. BANG — she blew out his chest.
Eleven o'clock news — Rapist found dead.
Sally by K. Saitta © 2015, A Walk In Verse
Startled by a flash, she turns viewing the emergency alert, "Rapist escaped, last seen on Downey Street, armed and dangerous!"
At once, she ran and locked the doors and windows, waiting with the shotgun by her side. Thirty minutes later a knock, a click - the lock got picked. Sally stood fast, waiting to teach this pervert a lesson. As the door crept open, she seized her assailant's attention; stripping and spinning as the sick bastard watched and sung a melody to bring fear. But to his surprise, she grabbed him, shoving the defender of death into his gut, forcing him to masturbate. And when he least expected it, she reached in — SLASH, CUT — pureed at high speed, right into a cup.
With the barrel pointed, taking his last breath, he forced himself to drink. BANG — she blew out his chest.
Eleven o'clock news — Rapist found dead.
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