The poison was colorless, but there was a foul aroma.
Mrs. Claus wasn’t pleased.
She had one night of privacy to get this right.
Most agreed the witch was overzealous when baking and eating children.
Even parents paying for this service were somewhat put off.
Her mind was so foggy.
She didn’t remember her reason for digging the hole in the yard.
And she had a receipt for a chainsaw.
“Wall ovens are in fashion,” the associate said.
“Yes, but I’m not sure I could lift larger children that high,” she replied.
He found himself locked inside the mausoleum.
“Could be worse,” he muttered.
“And it will be,” a low voice echoed behind him.
The key card to access the helipad was in the morgue.
We drew straws to see who was going in first.