Byline by Amos Keppler - Esteemed reporter.

   With the help of the few remaining eyewitnesses and methodical reconstruction - work the police (and we) have been able to piece together the dramatic turn of events one lovely December evening.
   Every witness and also the public prosecutor, agree that the good looking salesman chose the wrong doorbell to ring. Yes, in hindsight this reporter is quite certain he would most solemnly agree with all of us in this regard. Martin «Brush» Blanc, an experienced brush salesman from Philip Morris Brush (and Alabama) rode the elevator to the top floor condo on the west side. He probably rang the bell in the safe assumption that another sale was fast approaching. He couldn’t as we all know, be more wrong.
   Mrs. Diana Black, recently widowed, opened the door with the smile on her stained lips... and in a flash she pushed the potato - peeler in her hand into his guts. Blood (and guts) gushed from his exposed innards and he fell screaming, pale with shock and revulsion, to the floor. She kicked him in the groin and he groaned. The metal in the potato - peeler flashed again and a fountain of red spurted from his thigh. Laying still now he could only watch with foggy eyes as the woman above threw away the very effective peeler with one hand and pulled her big knife from inside her coat with the other. With an expertly swing with her blade she cut the expert salesman head off. Off with the head, right? She grabbed the head by the now quite red hair and lifted it up high above her... shoulders. Miss Verona Beach, that exactly then accidentally opened the opposite door to walk her small pink puddle, screamed just once and fainted on the spot. The old pensioner howled in triumph and went to work again with her HUGE kitchen jungle knife (bought from Tahuska mail order company in 1936).

After bathing Miss Beach in her own blood Mrs. Black then proceeded inside the other apartment where three kids, one husband, a grandmother, two fishes of gold and several more working tools awaited. She was both armed and forewarned when she continued her quest further down the floors as she raced down the emergency stairs. As she passed each level on her way down, she placed one skull on the welcoming mat of every single apartment. Believe us, we honestly wish to spare you each gruesome detail, but we would be remiss in our responsibilities as reporters if we didn’t reported one more incident in this tale of murder and mayhem.    It concerns constable Oliver Sergeant who arrived at the scene with his partner Dale Rigley. Officer Rigley escaped with a few bruises and broken ribs, but Sergeant wasn’t so lucky. He was, as by a hand of god beheaded when the mob of survivors of the carnage trampled him down as they escaped from the nice, old avenging angel of mercy inside the Condo building. Mrs. Black, by the way, after an hour siege, voluntarily gave herself up to the police.    As the court is set today informed sources tells us that Mrs. Black’s attorney will plead extenuating circumstances.    But no experienced observers share his optimistic view of the trial. Too bad. Mrs. Black would have made an excellent potato - peeler.

Everything span very quickly out of control... I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m just trying to explain to you, the observant reader, how strange things sometimes may turn out.    - This is a tragedy, Miss Wonderland states, shaking her head.- A terrible tragedy.    She has spent most of our conversation talking about her election campaign, but this is where she has wanted to go, the whole time. I can tell. But then again, I would be quite foolish if I had not gathered this even before I met her, here in her office.    It’s a good cause to her. It always is.    To her, too.    - I’ve said it loud and clear for many years. Nobody cared to listen, but now I think they’ll open their blood red eyes. It’s about time. I hope we can now gather all positive forces and get voted in a ban on kitchen tools in general and potato - peelers in particular.    Attorney General Alice Wonderland is a crusader, but compared to her brethren from Jerusalem so long ago, she is remarkable free of stain. A physician in her former, civilian life, she has a lot of experience treating head wounds.

   - It’s the video games and movies, she says with dead certainty.- They’re the cause of this and similar forms of mindless violence.
   - What kind of mindless violence are they then not responsible for, Doctor?
   I blurt out the words before I can stop myself. Fortunately I manage to add a smile at the end of the sentence to convey my good intentions. Sheer luck and the good mood of the good doctor saves me so far.
   - There’s no question about it, she rants on.- Movies, books and what those radikals call progressive art is responsible for the violence and the decline in morality and...
   - And the increases in the number of green beetles, I completed helpfully.
   There was a pause, that almost stretched into prolonged silence.
   - Isn’t it a little too easy to blame art for everything in the world you personally do not fancy? I asked. This time I added the dutiful smile almost instantly.- Isn’t that what people in position of power always do, always have done, when things do not go according to schedule?
   - Studies have always shown my claims to be true, she bursts out, not as calm anymore.- Recent studies shows...
   - It would be quite helpful to me and our readers if you could point me to those studies, Doctor, I said sweetly. This time, with any pretense gone from the conversation, I didn’t bother to smile.
   Any pretense gone from her person, she turned a flustered face closer to mine.
   - Eh... Is that recorder on? You were not supposed to ask me that kind of questions.
   - This is an interview, I pointed out.- Not one of your press - releases...
   She looked at me as if I was something out of the Stygian Depths, and to her perhaps I am.
   - Surveys have shown that it is a clear connection between the availability of kitchen tools and potato - peelers, she almost shouted. Desperation was evident in her voice and her whole body language.
   - What connections exactly is that, doc?
   - Exactly...? she eyed me, the hallowed reporter and did not even bother to hide her suspicion anymore. In fact, it’s safe to suggest that her whole attitude stank of suspicion.- What - do - you - mean?
   - Which survey is it that connect the availability of kitchen tools with... potato - peelers? For that matter, are there any studies at all that connects movies with War Games?
   I added sardonically. And I tell you straight out, it was an extremely satisfying moment. I’m not even attempting to deny it. No. Sir, not me. In fact this is one of the most satisfying moment in my whole life and it’s guaranteed the most satisfying moment as a reporter on Capitol Hill.
   A long furrow appeared above her left brow, then she lightened up.
   - You’re new, aren’t you? I knew it. You haven’t yet learned to ask the correct questions, isn’t that so, my young friend?
   There was a long break, while she, her old confidence restored, gave me the famous Evil Eye.
   - I can’t say I do, I said at last.- If you could possibly elaborate...

   amos kenner
former employee Washington Herald

   I did manage to get this published right under the red nose of an angry and scared shitless editor.
   Well, that’s all, folks. Don’t expect to see my byline in this «newspaper» in the foreseeable future.