Evil Editor dropped the axe. Blood spattered on his shoes. Was that Dave? Dave had come by three hours early with casseroles covered in aluminum foil. The foil had crinkled and shifted as he’d maneuvered the casseroles onto the picnic tables. Dave had apologized profusely for being early, but that hadn’t help.
EE shook his head. Couldn’t be. He’d dispatched Dave with the butcher knife before anyone else had arrived. Perhaps it was that tricky Koala. She’d popped in just as Dave had gasped his last. Kept babbling about being on Oz time and not knowing what day it was. And the weather. Lord, he’d heard enough about winter being summer before he’d grabbed the axe and chased her up a tree.
He glanced around the back yard. More minions would be arriving soon. He’d sent invitations to them all asking each one to keep it a secret from the others. He licked his lips as he thought about his favorite minion. She’d be in his bed waiting for him. Hiking up his pant leg, he checked on the knife he’d strapped to his leg before this all began. Bloody. So that meant, he’d already been with her and he now had a bloody corpse in his bed. Damn. He wished he could remember every hot, steamy moment, but it was gone. What was wrong with his memory?
Sunlight glinted off one clean part of the axe blade. EE’s brows furrowed as he tried to think whose blood it could be.
McKoala poked him in the shoulder. “That big a hole in your head and you’re still upright?”
The sky lengthened as EE fell. That damn Koala had grabbed the axe and buried it in his head while he clung to a low branch. Now he remembered. And died.