Lee Hammerschmidt
“Man,” Detective Garnish said, looking at the encrusted cheese covered face of shady real estate tycoon Monte Rayjac. “All he needs is some marinara.”
“Add bread and salad,” Detective Galangal, Garnish’s new partner said, “and you’ve got a full meal.”
Both men chuckled.
“So, Doc,” Garnish said. “What happened?”
“Well,” Dr. Humphrey Dowdy, medical examiner exemplar said. “He was restrained and the melted cheese concoction was poured over his face, filling his mouth and nostrils, cutting off his breathing. He died of suffocation.”
“He couldn’t just spit it out and blow his nose?” Garnish asked.
“No,” Humphrey said. “Fried mozzarella sticks.”
Lee Hammerschmidt is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour. He’s authored 10 collections of short stories and illustrations.
“My God, Shade,” Minx McCambridge said, letting out a heavy audible sigh. “Is that what you’re wearing on our date?”
“Pretty spiffy, huh?” I said, tugging on the lapels of my vintage 1974, powder blue, leisure suit.
Minx let out the sigh again.
“You know we’re going to Molalla Estates for a wine tasting, right?”
“Yep. I never touch wine, so the jacket’s huge inside pockets come in handy.”
I opened the coat to reveal the PBR tallboys stuffed inside.
Minx sighed again, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all,” she said. “When you got the proof of Mario’s infidelity, getting me my huge divorce settlement, I thought a little celebration would be in order. You are kind of attractive in a rugged, gothic sort of way. But it turns out you’re crass and uncouth, with no sense of style or decorum.”
Another sigh.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “This wouldn’t be much of a date. You’re just gasping at flaws.”
Lee Hammerschmidt is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour. He is the author of nine collections of short stories and illustrations. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!