Gallows Humor Flash Fiction: The Well-Meaning Good Burgher of Cologne

Last night my foster son came back and shat all over my carpet, raped my daughter, and set the house on fire.
My wife was angry and told me to give him a hiding.
“We welcomed this ungrateful prick into our house, and look what he’s done!”
So I did what any good father would do:
I whacked my wife several times with the iron and then sat down and cried. Then I went and apologized to my son for provoking him.
“I promise to be less intolerant and hateful towards you in the end. After all, diversity of manners is our greatest strength.”
For some reason, this only made him angrier.
He held a knife against my throat.
And with every sob of contrition I gave him, he only sawed my neck ever harder and harder, until every last mediocre drop of my life’s blood had tearfully gushed forth…
To gush no longer!



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