Poetic Ending by Ann-Louise Truschel

The technician enters the autopsy suite, looks at the body on the table, gasps and stops short.

“Is that who I think it is, Dr. Gladstone?”

“Who do you think it is, Techie?”

“It looks like James Bond!”

“Indeed, it is Agent 007.”

“What happened? How did he die?”

“He was killed on assignment.”

“Bond was after a dangerous criminal?”

“One of the MOST dangerous crime heads ever.”

“Who is that?”

“The head of Murderesses, Inc.”

“I don’t see any wounds. What killed him?”

“The brain in his cranium is mush.”

“How did that happen?”

“He was shaken – not stirred.”


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