One Born Every Minute
by William Morgan
Fool!
It’s said there’s one born every minute. That’s me. I was played well.
The lady in red wasn’t attracted to me. To me? Who’s bald , a tad fat, with the personality of a warped plank? Her ruby red lips mesmerized me into stupidity. When her mouth parted and I saw her fangs? It was too late.
She’s lapping at my savaged throat like a kitten at it’s first bowl of milk.
Idiot!
Marybell, forgive me. Brian,…son…..oh…head’s light….heart’s slowing…strange, dying’s not what I imagined, feared… Marybell, my love, I…I………………..
…can’t wait to see you again.
