A Pine Time for Murder
Ain’t nothin’ says the holidays like the smell of cadaver.
Before now, I never heard of a Christmas tree causin’ anyone trouble. I’d blame Sam, but hell, I was with her when we bought it. Still, I should’ve known better, especially when her uncle Vinny mentioned the trees feel off a truck, AKA stolen.
Our cat was the one who found the middle finger danglin’ in the branches like a macabre decoration. I suggested we ignore the whole damn situation, but my wife insisted we get our money back.
Then, people start shootin’, a dead body shows up, and like always, we’re caught smack dab in the middle of the whole damn mess.
Thank God we got a few friends and family to help us out.
Frankie-the-hit-man, the cousins, the blue-haired ladies, and Patten Securities all join us in the holiday spirit.
With all the mayhem, I almost forgot to mention, Sam’s pregnant with our baby number two. For some reason, she neglected to tell me but the pukin’ was a clear give away.
Pages
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63