Nov 22, 2013

The Parson's Salad at the Disco

Quigley had never dreamed of becoming an assassin; not this man who wore earplugs in church and latex gloves to butter his toast.

On the other side of the continent, a woman called Janice put on tarry black lipstick and her cat’s-eye contacts, snarling at the mirror. A messy death awaited.

I pictured Janice looking like this. (Found this picture on Tumblr.)

To dispel all possible doubt, or at least 99% of it: The title to this prompt wasn't inspired by Panic! at the Disco. I don't even like them very much.

Janice would be attending a Modern Witch show that evening.

While Quigley would sleep all joysome and impluvious, dreaming of caterpillars and toast.

Anybody need a toast timer?

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