“Hey, are you the ladies who put the ad up in the coffee shop?”
“This isn’t that ad about strict schoolmistresses who give big bad boys remedial lessons in math and manners again, is it?”
“No, the one about the buyers for cursed and haunted objects.”
“Oh yes, sir. We’re eager to swap clean, unenchanted money for your hazardous antiques. Do you have something for us?”
“These wind chimes are cursed.”
“Interesting sir, How so?”
“They’ve been handed down in my family since the sixties. My great-aunt Rose was found dead under them, on the breezeway. Her sister, my great-aunt Amy was killed in the kitchen, I guess, but her head was left under the wind chimes on the patio.”
“Promising so far, but that could be a coincidence.”
“Just wait. Amy’s daughter Kelly hung them in her own kitchen, and HER body was found stuffed in the dishwasher. Her brother took them to his place, and he wound up folded into his foldout couch bed.”
“This sounds better and better, sir, but tell me. Did they catch any of the murderers?”
“Well, Great-Uncle Jay was found dead in a hut in a forest fifteen years after Rose died. He left a note saying he killed his wife. Great-Aunt Amy’s next-door neighbor was arrested and confessed. Kelly’s husband was found with the gun that killed HIS wife, but he tried to shoot it out with police so we don’t know for sure.”
“I see, sir. We….”
“Pete’s girlfriend admitted she smothered him in the couch, and my Aunt Grace always said she was the one who stuffed Paul into the garbage disposal, but the police wouldn’t believe her and she was….”
“Let me get this straight, sir. Everyone who used these wind chimes was murdered by someone they knew.”
“Yes, and all within forty-right hours of hanging up the chimes. You see why I’ll be glad to get rid of them.”
“Indeed, sir. But we cannot buy your wind chimes, sir. They are not cursed.”
“How can you say that? Obviously they’ve driven forty-three different people to insanity and the murder of members of my family.”
“I understand, sir. But living around people with sensitive ears is simply your family’s bad luck. The rest is standard practice for wind chimes.”
Blogsy Babbles 