This photo was “rescued” from a second-hand shop in NYC. This young lady deserves a new, second-hand story. It was a short and seamy life…
Mrs. Miralven smiled gently to herself as she left the scene of her latest murder. Now for a nice cup of tea she murmured quietly, and perhaps some scones? (R. Johnson)
“If only I hadn’t murdered that baker,” she said to herself. “There are no more good scones to be had around here. I’ll go back in and make a batch before the police arrive.” (S.M.)
Figuring that she had a good half hour before the baker’s body was discovered, and then another hour before the police got there, she decided to pay a little visit to the dentist next door. (J.M.)
The door was open, but no one was there. Mrs. Miralven tiptoed into his study, opened his supply cabinet, and grabbed a box of dental floss. This will come in handy later… (S.M.)
“Do you think anyone will notice that I’m wearing my dining room curtains,?” she thought to herself as she stepped outside. (R.M.)
Doris Jenkins saw the smear of mud on her little boy’s cheek when he was wheeling his bicycle up the front path. “Come here, Jimmy,” she said. “You know how much I love you, darling. And that is why I am going to punish you until you cry and beg for mercy, you wicked boy.” (R. Castle)
Dropping the floss box, Mrs. Miralven slipped back into the shadows of the entryway, watching as Jimmy Jenkins’ smile faded and his mother’s eyes flamed.
To her left, the baker’s wife sent up a window-rattling scream of discovery. (J.M.)
It wasn’t really dental floss that fell out of her pocket and she was hoping no one noticed as she heard the window open. (P.R.D)
“Help! Police!” hollered the baker’s wife, “Someone has stolen my dining room curtains!”
Mrs. Miralven allowed herself a goofy grin as she heard this, and even crossed her eyes in a fit of glee as she realized that the floss was still in her possession.
Doris Jenkins, in the meantime, had a vice-like grip on Jimmy’s left earlobe as she shouted back to the baker’s wife, “That’s the second year in a row, isn’t it?”
The scone in Jimmy’s pocket felt like a grenade… (J.M.)