It Took 3 People to Write the Following Story
The Candy Cane
By Mike, Ale & Moujan
It was a year ago today when I first suspected my friend was a serial killer.
He came back home late one night, smelling of cotton candy and lysol. I knew the circus was in town, but that didn’t explain the lysol. Things just didn’t add up.
He knocked on my bedroom door, but opened it without even waiting for my voice. I was on the phone with my mom. I told her hold and told my friend, “I can’t go to the gym now, I’m on the phone with my— oh my god!”
On hand he held a half-eaten stick of cotton candy, on the other, some lysol. The specific pungent combination of the two was almost enough to distract me from the human entrails smeared on his sweater - almost.
“YOU WANT TO GO TO THE CIRCUS WITH ME TOMORROW?” he said, before stuffing the rest of the cotton candy into his bleeding mouth.
I kindly decline and refocused my attention to my mother to discuss the future of my uncle’s ashes. I then paused and turned to my friend -
“…Did you just murder someone?”
My mother (overhearing) said, “Yes young man, did you just rip a mans entrails out with your bare hands?”
My friend is stunned. He thinks for a moment, then responds back to the phone deliberately, “No…I ripped them out with my feet.”
My mother laughed at this, not realizing it wasn’t a joke.
Then my friend grab the phone from my hand and threw it against the wall. “YOUR MOTHER IS NOT INVITED”
I was stunned. In fact, my friend usually loved my mother. In fact the sweater upon which the entrails were smeared was a gift from my mom. I added, “Bro, you usually love Diane! Let’s just stop manacingly coming towards me and call it a night.”
Then, he tried to kill me.
Thankfully I was able to kill him first - just as I have killed hundreds of others before because IT IS I WHO IS THE SERIAL KILLER!!!! HAHAHAHAHAAAAA
I AM JOE BIDEN.
LETS EAT CUPCAKES.
