Worse Than a Headache
By Patrick M. Tracy
“You bit me,” Charlene said, holding her shoulder where Ted’s teeth had pressed down hard, almost enough to draw blood.
“These things happen,” Ted said with a whimsical shrug. “You know how it is.”
Charlene backed away.
“I don’t, Ted. You’d better tell me.”
It was important to keep him talking while she assessed his level of threat and decided how to respond. She should have never let Gina set her up with a blind date. She knew better. Gina had terrible taste in men.
“I bite girls to death. It’s sorta my thing.” Ted’s eyes were lit with a lunatic’s gleam as he approached, his hands outstretched as if he needed a hug.
“Not tonight.” There was a muffled pop. Ted stopped, touching his chest where the blood churned out, already wetting him to the belt line.
That new silencer worked pretty well.