Emily burst into the elephant cage, dressed in her circus outfit: a lot of silver tassels and feathers, and platform shoes. Everything shone or sparkled as she moved, including her tan legs and arms which were oiled and covered with glitter. Now she moved fast- the cage was in chaos: the elephant flailed about, trying to dislodge the lion which had sunken its teeth into its neck and was hanging on with its powerful claws. With acrobatic ease, Emily jumped and grabbed onto the lion which only dug its claws an teeth deeper into the elephant’s thick flesh. The three of them crashed around in the cage, smashing against the bars, destroying the wooden troughs, spilling water and peanuts everywhere.

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The trumpet was tarnished and blood-stained and there was a long scratch along one side from a grazing bullet. Max used it to obliterate everything that had ever happened to him and take him away from the roach-infested dives he played at. He also used it as a blunt instrument to kill three of his wives, his old manager, and his accountant. The cops in Sweelley were still trying to figure out what had caused the deaths. Marvin Orr, the lieutenant in charge, had a whole table of lamp bases of various shapes and sizes and a dry-erase board of artistic renderings of the possible impact scenarios. Dorley, Orr’s competitor, had a list on his board that included statuettes, alarm clocks, and “Oriental weapons” but neither of them had come up with “trumpet” and Max was such a well-dressed and well-groomed citizen that no one in law enforcement suspected him yet.

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Reggie and Diane walked down the country road, meadows on either side, the sinking sun making the grasses glow. Diane, blonde hair dyed almost white, took a drag on a cigarette, sucking as much of the poison out of it that she could. Reggie stared out at the blinding sun. They walked a full mile without saying anything to each other. “I need to go to the store,” she said, finally. “The store?” he asked. She nodded. “Why?”

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