“It was an accident.”
“She was stabbed,” Detective Holmes said. “How can that be an accident?”
Dave sighed. “She came up behind me in the kitchen where I was slicing tomatoes for our salad.”
“That’s your defense? She annoyed the cook?”
“Of course not. We just met an hour ago. A mutual friend set us up on a blind date. I’m a chef, so I thought it would be nice to cook us something.”
“And then kill her?”
“No. Ask anyone,” he said. Dave felt a panic attack coming on. “I have PTSD. Everyone knows not to sneak up on me.”
Awkward!
Not everyone, clearly. That sounds like an unusual sort of defence plea…
Excellent dark humour!
Very cool!!
Yikes!
No more blind dates for me!
Nice job.
Hello Shirley,
Well, Dave might pull it off if he hires a great criminal defense lawyer.
This make me give quite a laugh!
Nice ending!
Whoops!
Great story. I don’t suffer from PTSD but hate people creeping up behind me. Have been known to scream in the office, so had to move my desk so my back was against the wall!