oliba Snook never saw the bus coming, until she was facing it head on. The bus killed her instantly, and as 911 was called, The Pie Maker, Ned, came outside. He sighed.
“Oh no,” He whispered as Chuck and Emerson Cod stood susunod to him. Chuck sighed in sadness.
“She was meant to die sometime,” Emerson dully said, taking a wad of cash from his pocket and counting it.
“Emerson, that’s terrible!” Chuck smacked Emerson’s arm, careful not to touch Ned, who was in between them. As the police tried to shock Olive’s puso back into beating, The Pie Maker had a tough decision to make. He knew if he touched oliba and didn’t touch her again, she could live forever, like Chuck.
The plan seemed flawless, except for the fact someone else had to die. Ned sighed, and Chuck looked intently at him.
“You could save her,” Chuck whispered, looking at the firefighters who were putting oliba in a body bag.
“Who would die?” replied Ned, scratching his head. As Emerson counted his money, the body bag in the car drove away. . .
As the group of adults decided about what to do, they ate some blueberry pie. Ned sat on one side of the booth while Emerson and Chuck sat in the other.
“I think we should help poor Olive,” Chuck took a bite of the pie. Emerson shook his head.
“Oh no, I don’t want that asong babae running around here again. I say we leave her dead.” He licked his fork clean.
“I agree with Chuck,” The Pie Maker stated.
“Big surprise,” Emerson muttered.
“Olive didn’t deserve to die; we should save her. Who’s going to die in her place, though? Who wants to die?” Ned took a bite of his pie, and Ned and Chuck’s forks clanged together. They smiled at each other lovingly, and Emerson rolled his eyes.
“That’s it!” Chuck yelled. As Emerson Cod rubbed his sore ear thanks to Chuck’s yelling, Chuck continued, “A suicidal person! We could find somebody that wants to die, and then stick the person susunod to oliba when you wake her up, Ned. After he dies, we could put an empty poison bottle in his/her hand. It’s the perfect set up!” Chuck rubbed her hands together in anticipation of the soon to be murder. She smiled evilly.
Ned and Emerson just sat there, creeped out.
“I like horror stories,” Chuck calmly responded.
So The Pie Maker, Emerson Cod, and Chuck set off to find suicidal people.
“Where do we look for a suicidal person?” grumbled Emerson, mad at being pulled away from knitting and counting money.
Chuck scanned the rooftops, “There! There’s a man on that roof!” she shrieked, and started running towards the building. Ned followed her, Emerson too stubborn to move. The building was an apartment complex.
Running through the lobby, Chuck found a set of stairs and ran up them, a tired Ned running after her. They reached the roof, and Chuck ran towards the man. She pulled him back from the ledge.
“Hey!” The man pleaded, “I was trying to kill myself,” Ned caught up to them.
“If you want to kill yourself, I have a better way,” Ned uttered through deep breathes.
“How, genius?” the man sarcastically asked.
“Follow us,” Chuck gently led the man back to the staircase and the group of three walked down the stairs. “What’s your name?” Chuck pleasantly chimed, hopeful to start some small conversation.
“James,” the man answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Will my death hurt?” he questioned.
“You won’t feel a thing!” Chuck explained, and Ned nodded in agreement.
“Are you going to murder me?” James asked, stopped on the stairwell.
“Not exactly,” Ned assumed, pushing James forward. They began to walk down the stairs again. Finally, they reached the outside. Emerson was leaning on his car, knitting a dark red sweater.
“Is this our man?” Emerson asked, hopping in the car and starting it.
“James is our man,” Chuck replied, also getting in the car, in the passenger side. Ned and James got in the backseat, and the car started to drive. “Do you have the poison bottle?” Chuck asked Emerson.
He chuckled and nodded. “In my front pocket,” he patted his front pocket. They had arrived at the funeral home. They entered the building and were led to Olive’s body, saying they were friends; only Emerson objected.
Only James, Ned, and the poison bottle entered Olive’s room. Emerson and Chuck were running away so they wouldn’t get killed in the accidental proximity death. Ned opened the coffin up and saw oliba Snook, dead. Her face was peacefully resting against a pillow, and she looked happy.
“Hang on a second,” Ned said, starting his clock and touched Olive. She sat up.
“Ned! I knew you’d come!” oliba said, trying to halik Ned. He took a step back and looked at his watch.
“What did you do?” James fearfully cried. “I’m getting out of here!” James ran away.
“Come back!” Ned cried, looking at his watch. He had thirty segundos left.
“Ned what’s going on?” oliba asked, sitting up in the coffin. Ned looked at his clock. He had ten segundos left. When the time had reached a minute, Ned swallowed nervously. “Ned, what’s going on?” oliba repeated, looking at Ned.
Suddenly, Chuck ran in the room. “Ned! Emerson is dead!” She exclaimed.
“Oh no,” He whispered as Chuck and Emerson Cod stood susunod to him. Chuck sighed in sadness.
“She was meant to die sometime,” Emerson dully said, taking a wad of cash from his pocket and counting it.
“Emerson, that’s terrible!” Chuck smacked Emerson’s arm, careful not to touch Ned, who was in between them. As the police tried to shock Olive’s puso back into beating, The Pie Maker had a tough decision to make. He knew if he touched oliba and didn’t touch her again, she could live forever, like Chuck.
The plan seemed flawless, except for the fact someone else had to die. Ned sighed, and Chuck looked intently at him.
“You could save her,” Chuck whispered, looking at the firefighters who were putting oliba in a body bag.
“Who would die?” replied Ned, scratching his head. As Emerson counted his money, the body bag in the car drove away. . .
As the group of adults decided about what to do, they ate some blueberry pie. Ned sat on one side of the booth while Emerson and Chuck sat in the other.
“I think we should help poor Olive,” Chuck took a bite of the pie. Emerson shook his head.
“Oh no, I don’t want that asong babae running around here again. I say we leave her dead.” He licked his fork clean.
“I agree with Chuck,” The Pie Maker stated.
“Big surprise,” Emerson muttered.
“Olive didn’t deserve to die; we should save her. Who’s going to die in her place, though? Who wants to die?” Ned took a bite of his pie, and Ned and Chuck’s forks clanged together. They smiled at each other lovingly, and Emerson rolled his eyes.
“That’s it!” Chuck yelled. As Emerson Cod rubbed his sore ear thanks to Chuck’s yelling, Chuck continued, “A suicidal person! We could find somebody that wants to die, and then stick the person susunod to oliba when you wake her up, Ned. After he dies, we could put an empty poison bottle in his/her hand. It’s the perfect set up!” Chuck rubbed her hands together in anticipation of the soon to be murder. She smiled evilly.
Ned and Emerson just sat there, creeped out.
“I like horror stories,” Chuck calmly responded.
So The Pie Maker, Emerson Cod, and Chuck set off to find suicidal people.
“Where do we look for a suicidal person?” grumbled Emerson, mad at being pulled away from knitting and counting money.
Chuck scanned the rooftops, “There! There’s a man on that roof!” she shrieked, and started running towards the building. Ned followed her, Emerson too stubborn to move. The building was an apartment complex.
Running through the lobby, Chuck found a set of stairs and ran up them, a tired Ned running after her. They reached the roof, and Chuck ran towards the man. She pulled him back from the ledge.
“Hey!” The man pleaded, “I was trying to kill myself,” Ned caught up to them.
“If you want to kill yourself, I have a better way,” Ned uttered through deep breathes.
“How, genius?” the man sarcastically asked.
“Follow us,” Chuck gently led the man back to the staircase and the group of three walked down the stairs. “What’s your name?” Chuck pleasantly chimed, hopeful to start some small conversation.
“James,” the man answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Will my death hurt?” he questioned.
“You won’t feel a thing!” Chuck explained, and Ned nodded in agreement.
“Are you going to murder me?” James asked, stopped on the stairwell.
“Not exactly,” Ned assumed, pushing James forward. They began to walk down the stairs again. Finally, they reached the outside. Emerson was leaning on his car, knitting a dark red sweater.
“Is this our man?” Emerson asked, hopping in the car and starting it.
“James is our man,” Chuck replied, also getting in the car, in the passenger side. Ned and James got in the backseat, and the car started to drive. “Do you have the poison bottle?” Chuck asked Emerson.
He chuckled and nodded. “In my front pocket,” he patted his front pocket. They had arrived at the funeral home. They entered the building and were led to Olive’s body, saying they were friends; only Emerson objected.
Only James, Ned, and the poison bottle entered Olive’s room. Emerson and Chuck were running away so they wouldn’t get killed in the accidental proximity death. Ned opened the coffin up and saw oliba Snook, dead. Her face was peacefully resting against a pillow, and she looked happy.
“Hang on a second,” Ned said, starting his clock and touched Olive. She sat up.
“Ned! I knew you’d come!” oliba said, trying to halik Ned. He took a step back and looked at his watch.
“What did you do?” James fearfully cried. “I’m getting out of here!” James ran away.
“Come back!” Ned cried, looking at his watch. He had thirty segundos left.
“Ned what’s going on?” oliba asked, sitting up in the coffin. Ned looked at his clock. He had ten segundos left. When the time had reached a minute, Ned swallowed nervously. “Ned, what’s going on?” oliba repeated, looking at Ned.
Suddenly, Chuck ran in the room. “Ned! Emerson is dead!” She exclaimed.
