October 25, 2011

Corny Inspiration

 So I have this Uncle who is insane. I'm guessing he is at work when he sent me a Facebook message. It read: 'corn chips'. Surprisingly, this isn't an abnormal occurrence. I get these types of messages every once in a while. Today, I gave this response to his 'corn chips'.

     Detective Corn Chips spent his nights alone with his scotch. He would spend his evenings in front of the television, watching only the most mindless of programs. Anything to get the faces out of his head.
     When he and Marlene were still married, she would make him a hot dinner and talk about her day at the beauty salon. Her mindless chatter was one thing that could take Corn Chips' mind off of work. He'd watch her animated expressions and the way she would act out everything with her hands, and her hair would bob back and forth when she got really worked up.
     After she had left him, there was nothing to fill up the cold house. Everywhere he looked, a memory would come to mind. Painting the kitchen with Marlene, reading the paper together at breakfast, the fight on the stairs...
     It was painful being home, however, it was painful being at work as well. The faces of the parents of missing children, the frazzled wife being questioned about her husband's murder, so many faces that Corn Chips couldn't get out of his mind.
     Work was torture. Home was torture. It hadn't been a home since Marlene left. Corn chips sat in his worn out chair and closed his eyes. If he could only fall asleep, maybe he wouldn't dream tonight and he wouldn't see anymore faces. He listened to the hum of the air conditioning, the moaning of the house as it settled into it's self.
     Then Corn Chips heard a noise he was not familiar with. Foot steps. No one should be here.
     "Good evening, Detective." came a low gravely voice.
     Corn Chips turned his head to the side and saw Scott Callahan, the man he and his team had been tracking for months. The mans wide, dry mouth was turned up in a cruel smile. A gun was in his hand, pointed at Corn Chips' head. 
     "Evening, Scott. You're here to kill me."
     "Smart man. Yeah, you fellas got a bit close last Friday. Too close. They're not going to get me. There's no way I'll let them put me behind bars again." Callahan pushed the gun against Corn Chips left temple. "Not this time, Detective. I've been waiting for this for a long time now."
     Corn Chips crossed his legs and placed his hands in his lap. "You know what, Callahan? Me too." He closed his eyes and saw one last face.  Marlene.


  1. Not yet, but then again, he's crazy and I'll most likely ask him when I get home.