the day had started off like any other, a fresh trimmed beard, beer cans half empty and a pint of pasta left over in the strainer...he had no memory of the swarming night before, like an old dog he but he knew the tricks to cure a hangover. Pop, the mixture of a morticians nightmare, seven different pain killers spiralled to his stomache - the euphoric feeling entrapping his brain fibres.
With his new found alertness he moved to open the brassy living room door. A jolt and twist and a hard sudden push. Something was in the way.
What the fuck? he repeated over and over in his mind.
Drapped across the piano.Maybe he need the old seiben pills trick after party like that. But something seemed cold in that room, the tenderness of human life and soul seemed drained. He quickly whipped up a mixture of pills and weakly diluted juice - this could cure alomst anything, it needed to be on the shal
The following challenges were completed during the writing exercise:
Begin Start typing to begin
Prop Include a pasta strainer
Words Reach 50 words
Letter Use the letter N
Words Reach 100 words
Character A mature mortician
Event A murder needs to be solved
Letter Use the letter T
Prop Include a piano
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