Strange is this story, but gooooood nt

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: : Give me you're opinion on this short story... : : : : I looked from the television to my skinny bare chest. ‘I wish I had Brad Pitt’s body,’ I thought as he kissed some bimbo. I clicked off the television, walked into the bathroom, staring at my pale wiry frame again. Oh well. Sandi didn’t seem to mind, and it wouldn’t be worth the work anyway. I shaved and drew the curtain back to step in the shower. : : The breath caught in my throat. Usually my tub is clean-Sandi keeps on me so I clean it on a semi regular basis-but this wasn’t soap scum. This was a naked man lying face down in my tub, which was also half full of ice. Now, I guess it was the shock, but the first thing I did was put my pants back on. Call me crazy, call me homophobic, but my idea of fun does not include being caught naked with corpse. : : How did I know it was a corpse? Well, who else would lie motionless in a tub full of ice? : : I buckled my belt and kneeled next to the tub. : : “Hey,” I called, which seems strange now, but what do you want? It wasn’t even nine am and I had a dead body in my tub, with no idea how it got there. : : In the living room the television clicked on, and again I thought of my girlfriend…then remembered she had slept at her place last night. : : “Sandi?” Again, facetious, but today was shaping out to be pretty fucking strange. I stood and walked into the living room on legs made of shaking rubber. : : Jennifer Anniston was on the screen, crying. “I…I don’t know! We were having dinner and he just got up and went to the bathroom, and he never came back!” : : Back to the reporter: “Tom, we now have confirmation from Ms. Anniston that her husband actor Brad Pitt has been missing for at least forty-eight hours. Police are looking for this man for questioning.” : : I saw my picture fill the screen and my blood ran cold, I could literally feel the temperature of my body change as my heart pumped much too fast. I ran to the bathroom and again kneeled by the tub. Motionless. The skin was turning gray. I grabbed one well-sculpted arm, closed my eyes, and pulled. When I opened them, I was indeed staring into Brad Pitt’s face. ‘Not so dreamy now, are we?’ I thought and turned to the toilet to puke. : : There was a knock on my door: “Mr. Randolph? Mr. Ebin Randolph? This is the Los Angeles Police Department, and I suggest you open the door.” : : I didn’t. They did, opened it right off the hinges and came in like gangbusters. One look at the body in my tub, I was hung for life. “Happy Halloween, kid,” the cop said as he cuffed me. : : That was a year ago, and they still say they can’t figure out how I did it. Believe me if I knew, I would tell them.

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