We see a strange figure lurking behind you. This figure is dressed in a plan old black suit, plainly been “over” worn. He push’s his way past you toward an old oak its branches bark pealing off. Its mighty figures, reaching out toward the skies. This mans name is Alexander (apple jacks) lonardo, the best hit man one could ever meet. (Tho the goodbyes may not be good.) He has been put on the quest to kill the best killer. He pulls something small but bulky, out from his long thence coat. He pushes a few color buttons as if setting a timer. With his long tipped knife he picks the lock to an orange car. Jumping in he plants the small object in the tight place where the radio box should have been. Ducking every time he sees someone walk by. He works quickly. Sliding out of the front set, and out the door, with one fast swift move meant he slams the car door closed. Breaking the glass. Making a fast 360 he, in a bit of a rush heads toward fishers crossing. Grabbing a hold of the pole by the end of the road, he spins around letting go of the pole and, falls to the ground. His face flashes a beat red, and storms off toward his car.
“by jove someone has broken me car window! When I find out who’s done that I’ll kill ‘em!” he yelled, his voice echoing of the near by hills.


After a nights rest and day full of laziness, he heads back to the oak tree. Jumping up a few times to reach the branch closest to the ground he climbs up the tree trying to get a better look at the car we saw him in the other night. The car looks familiar to him, to familiar. Slowly making his way up, he is right over the car. Wanting to get a better look he realizes that the car looked like his very own. Annoyed with the fact that no one can come up with their own style of car, he stamps his feet, forgetting where he was. His feet slipped right from under him. Grabbing out trying not to fall, his favorite neck tie gets caught on a near by branch. Twitching here and there he tries to rip off the tie with out ruining it. His face swells up, turning a deep shade blue and reds. Soon the twitching stops. A paper falls gently down to the ground spinning and twisting, from is hand. Going through the cars broken window landing on top of the radio box. On the paper the words, “kill the best killer” were printed in simmered ink. You hear a silent click and the car goes up in flames. Ashes fly up, spoiling the hit mans best suit.









Look at what you’ve done this time by A. Christian


You see a figure dressed in all black, from head to toe. Slinking his way up the drive. This misgves character is the best hit man in the state. He is on a mission to kill the best killer. He slowly pulls out a long sharp knife, and with one sleek move he breaks off the lock, with out making a sound. He slowly enters the house. Looking every witch way, making sure the coast is clear. Seeming as if he has lived there all his life, he found the computer in no time flat, with out entering any other rooms or looking in. The bright light elumantes his upper half. He always thought it was best to do his work in his best suit. Tho it looked as if it needed a bit of a cleaning. With a blink of an eye he typed in the password as if he knew it all along. Going onto google he typed in hit man for hire. Clicking the fourth link down he type in all the information. Pulling the plug the computer blinked off in a flash, he made his way to the kitchen and made rose tea. Sipping it down, he washed his cup. Leaving the kitchen, he made his way to where he once entered. Slipping the door shut, he slinked back down the drive, turning at fishers crossing and headed home.

The next day he received e-mail with the info for where his next “job” will be and what time. With glee he got ready for that evening. Once again he slinked his away up the drive. With surprise the lock hadn’t been replaced nor had it even been moved. He searched the whole house in the pitch black. Finding no one the house. A thought hit him. His mission was to kill the best killer. He flicked on his lighter he always kept in his back pocket. The rooms looked just like his at home. With his heart pounding he turned some lights… Everything was the same.

“Well this very queer, this chap has copied my well thought out, room setting!” he exclaimed.

He makes his way to the room he was told to go to. The clock chimes 12:01. Upset that whom ever he had the job with was not there, he stomped out of the room. On his way out he tripped on the bits of lock left and with one sleek move if knife stabbed him in the gut, and bled to death staining his best suit. Why do the best suits die young?




why did I want to eat soup again?




By Angela Christian

Picture your self peering through the bar window into a jail ceil. You eye comes a pone a rather withered character. This character is the best of the worst dons or “godfathers” (usually control mafia crime families). She or he (we aren’t un to sure of what the gender is so we will just call it her) is leaning against the jail ceil wall, for before she was put in jail… she was trying to open a can of brocil and cheese soup. She like always, to out her can opening gun. With careful aim she shot the can but the bullet bounced off the can hitting her left right toe. The blood gushed everywhere. Staining her black leather shoes.
You now see the youngest gang member Johnny “four thumb” macro walking slowly down the corridor with the police sheriff by his heals. The ceil doors open with a loud popping sound, he was shoved in. Four thumb knee’s on the floor in front of pandacow and slowly he says:
“I’m sorry your greatness for getting caught, and put into this hell hole”

Your going back in time now to before, she was put into jail. All you can see is a hobo trying to consume some socks. Behind him and dark shadow slinks up. Quietly waiting, for the right moment to pounce. With on smooth move the shadow grabs the socks and runs. The hobo jumps up chasing the shadow, pining it down.. Another figure walks out, holding a cane. Putting up the socks and hitting the hobo repeatedly with the canes metal end. A siren wale’s. the shadow and the hobo run to hide in a near by run down boat. The other figure with socks tries to hobble toward the boat but a cop jumps out of the car. Pushing the figure to the ground, pining its hand behind its back. Clipping on the handcuffs a little to tight. The figure fights back but admitting defeat it gets into the car. This figure is the god cat of pandacows. The most wanted crimal in the world.
Later on you see the shadowed figure setting a bomb in car. In the cover of darkness. Slowly the front door of the house opens, a police officer steps out getting a head start to work. The figure gets arrested on the spot.

Now we are in the cafeteria of the jail. Everyone is eating in pure silence. You see a tall heavy set man get up, and walk toward pandacow aiming a gun at her head. A faint click can be heard. She elbows him in the gut, this catches him of guard. He pulls the trigger. Ripping her left ear off. Blood goes everywhere. Her screams are muffled because she is choking on her soup spoon. Ending with her face drowning in chicken noodle soup. Leaving blood stains on “apple jacks” suit.