Crime and Punish-Cow

Note: The parts in italics and parentheses are my notes providing you with background info so you can better understand the story.

"Tell me your problems," said Dr. Lynn.

"Well," Molly Moo-Milk began, "I guess I have this problem with sabotaging relationships." Molly closed her beady little eyes as her body relaxed on Dr. Lynn's sofa. "Whenever I emotionally connect with someone, I start acting out," Molly continued. Her thoughts recalled vivid images of her ex-husband, Alan.

Suddenly, uncontrollable fury overwhelmed Molly and she opened her eyes. Unfamiliar recollections flooded her fragile mind. Alan—Rowena—Alan's ass—Rowena's head— (While Alan and Molly were still married, he rubbed his tush against Rowena's head. This eventually led to their divorce. Molly couldn't stay married to a two-timer!)

Molly screamed with a horrid, "NO!"

DING! "Sorry," interrupted Dr. Lynn. "Our time is up. Same time next week?"

"Yeah," Molly uttered, contemplating these strange newly resurfaced memories.

"In the mean time, I want you to work on some rage exercises. Focus your anger and release them onto a harmless object of concentration, like a pillow."

"Oh I'll focus my rage all right," Molly murmured. Dr. Lynn said something else, but Molly's thoughts were only of one thing: Revenge on Alan and Rowena for their treacherous betrayal and the tremendous pain and suffering they caused her.

"... seeing you next week?" interupted Dr. Lynn's voice, and Molly shook her head to wake herself up. "How about the week after then?" inquired Dr. Lynn. Finally coming to, Molly agreed to return in a week from Wednsday at 7:30. She picked up her purse and slammed the door behind her. Dr. Lynn just commented on the draft and continued to work at her computer.

Molly's hoof turned white as she turned the key in her ignition and the engine roared to life like her anger. She had been assigned mandatory therepy after inverting Patty the Panda's head, and she didn't like it. It interfered with her song-writing/singing/slut career. She had lost her record contract to record her latest song, "Die, Alan die!", because of the frequent sessions. And even if her German isn't perfect, the chorus was still catchy. Her convertable screeched as she floored the accelerator to pass a yugo. She swung back into her lane and cussed in an un-bovine manner as she missed the exit (and a motorcyclist) by a few inches. Rage bubbling over, she took the next exit in honest intent to double back, but what you the reader haven't realized is that the next exit empies out into Alan's neighborhood. In fact, doubling back would take her down his street, his house, and his open bedroom window.

But that would be too obvious. Why would she want to go to Alan's house right after her therapy session? They police would eventually trace back to her psychiatrist, and from there she would be a prime suspect. She continued onto the exit, only to stop at a local Target store to buy a can of pringles™. Molly munched up her pringles, and returned home and washed the container out. Swiftly she sewed a pocket in the back of her summer dress, and she slid the used pringles container into the the pocket.

Instead of taking the convertible, which would be an easier way to get to Alan's house, she walked. She carefully watched everyone who was looking at a stuffed beanie walking down the street with a empty can of pringles that was twice the size of her. In fact, people were wondering how a empty can of pringles could move to carry a stuffed beanie. Molly stopped and rubbed her chin. No one in the world would convict Molly of murder for one of two reasons: 1) She was so cute, and she would sleep with the whole jury if she had to. or 2) She was a beanie. The more she thought of it, she found the second reason more believable. After she thought about it, she ran home to get a paper bag, a can of chili, and a matchbox.

After retrieving the supplies, still holding the empty pringles can, she found her neighbor's dog and feed him the chili. She waited for an hour for the dog to do his duty, and then she picked up the dog droppings with the paper bag and headed to Alan's house. She then placed this bag on his front porch and lit it on fire. She ran the door bell and waited in the bushes. Alan answered the door, and he saw the burning bag on the floor. He panicked. He ran in and poured water into a bucket, and he dumped the water on the bag. Molly jumped up and beated Alan with the pringles can, as he screamed in vain. Molly dropped the can and ran to Eric's house.

It was a perfect plan. Who would think that a beanie cow as small as Molly could overpower Alan and beat him to a pulp? And going to Eric's house would provide her with an alibi. He lived so close to Alan, after all, and no one ever remembers exact times. It was perfect. Molly then remembered that she had forgotten to wipe her hoofprints off the can, so she ran back to Alan's house. She then saw Alan groaning and writihing on the ground. He wasn't dead yet! She gave him one more thwack for good measure, and he silenced. She then grabbed a rag and wiped off her hoofprints. She also looked around to make sure there weren't any other signs that she had been there. Done, she raced to Eric's house in a record 1 minute.

"What are you doing here, Molly?" Eric asked.

"Just wanted to hang out. Caligator's been MIA for months, Delphine's busy, Chandler's snoozing, and everyone else is busy too. So I figured, why not go to your house and check out your collection of Neve photos."

"Um, okay. . . I just got 50 more photos of her. She looks soooo gorgeous." Eric swooned. "Did you hear about how she's going to be in a romantic comedy with Matthew Perry?"

"Why, no, I haven't." Molly feigned interest as she tried to hold in a yawn. The things that must be done to keep from going to jail.

Meanwhile, as Alan lay across his porch, he squinted at the lights pulling into his freshly cemented driveway. "Damn," he thought as he watched the bumpers of the car scratch and drive over the lawn. "Damn to hell!" He winced in pain at the slight movement of his eyes.

"What a mess you are," she said as she smiled mischeviously at her ex-lover. "Lemme guess, Molly come at it again?"

Alan just closed his eyes, it was not Rowena's voice that he wanted to hear right now. He longed for Jennifer's voice and tried to smile at the thought of how she only said it was Key Club business just to talk with him. (After their divorce, Alan became interested in Jennifer.) Throwing the thought out of his head he focused on the situation.

Once Alan fully regained consiousness from the incident, he awkwardly walked to Eric's house to call for help. Once he arrived at the doorstep, he frantically rang the doorbell but nobody answered. Suddenly a loud voice boomed from behind Alan and he peered behind his back to see T-Boz, aka Rowena, and the rest of TLC dressed like sluts. (Rowena was T-Boz and Jenny & Angela were the rest of the TLC gang in Becky's birthday video, which explains the TLC reference.)

"Need any help?" Rowena asked, pulling out a shotgun from her leather clothing.

"Yes, please," Alan replied, stepping away from the heavily bolted door.

The door slowly squeaked back as Rowena blasted the doorknob off. She seductively, yet cautiously crept into the house, as any slut would do. Yet, her bright orange-red hair was an easy target to Molly, and when Molly discovered that her competition for Alan was in the same house, she jumped onto Rowena's head and poked her eyes with her dull horns. Rowena screamed in agony as Molly clung to her hair, knawing at her ears. Fortunately, Alan came to the rescue and caressed Molly to calm down the savage beast within her.

Alan tied Molly up with some fishing wire lying around and searched for Eric. He found that Eric had also been abused and badly wounded. Alan raced to the phone and tried to dial 911, but he discovered that the phone line had been cut and there was no means of calling for help.

He replaced the receiver and felt a little dizzy; he had lost a lot of blood from those blunt lacerations. Leaning against the table, his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor. As the world started to fade, his head tilted and he saw the stool where he had tied up Molly, but all that was left was the fishing line. He tried to call out to Jenny and Angela (the rest of the TLC gang that was searching the house for the master copy of Becky's birthday video so they could burn it) but only gurgled slightly. Before losing consciousness, Alan heard an echoing door knock, distant despite his closeness to the front door, and Tom's voice calling out, "Angela! I brought you a jacket! I didn't think you's want to parade around this tandem story in that slutty costume from Alan's sick twisted mind!"
AND NOW, THE THRILLING CONTINUING CONCLUSION...

"Hello Tom," answered Eric. "Why don't you come in?"

Astonished at Eric's amiability, Tom swiftly encircled Eric's head with the jacket. Suffocating him, Tom pleasingly asserted, "You're not Eric! Notwithstanding the obvious flesh wounds on you, you are obviously too nice to be the cynical and sadistic Eric that I know!"

Eventually, the body went limp fell to the floor. Tom pushed the door open further and saw the home of the now breathless Eric, ravaged by Angela and Jen. "What are you guys doing," exclaimed Tom.

"Looking for the master copy of Bec's birthday video," Jen replied.

"The one that you said previously would be here," responded Angela.

"Oh yeah," Tom slyly yet semi-sarcastically stated. However, he thought to himself: "I thought for sure that they would realize since we used Cal's camera that Cal-not Eric-has the master video copy. How can I tell them that they devastated Eric's home because of my prank?" Tom smiled cunningly. "Who says I have to say anything?"

At that moment, Alan entered from the hall. "Have you guys seen Eric? He went to answer the door while I continued to search for Molly, who by the way is still on the jealous rampage because of Row and me, and probably now Jennifer. Oh, hi Tom."

"That was awfully nice of Eric, going to answer the door regardless of his injuries." remarked Jen.

"I swear I would not recognize him now that he has become so nice. I still cannot believe he turned over a new leaf due to the overwhelming violence in the world." Angela inputted.

Realizing his first-degree murder, Tom interjected, "Excuse me a moment," and turned around to kick Eric's jacket-covered almost-cadaver down the steps of his front porch.

"Why did you kick my jacket?" shrieked Angela.

As Tom attempted to furnish a feasible explanation, an obscure figure in Eric's front yard commented, "My, my. Thomas certainly bears numerous secrets." The shrouded mystery person then took Eric away and strove to heal him.

The group struggled to see who it was. Then out of no where, Tom screamed, " It's Mr. G.!!!" (Mr. G is a teacher from our high school who liked to tell us what he thought we should do in college, etc. Tom was his unwilling teacher's pet. We try to avoid Mr. G., but fortunately he usually ignores the rest of us.) The group all turned a pale, green color, as they all reliezed that the person helping Eric was, indeed, Mr. G. They all listened careful to what he was saying to Eric's lifeless body. "I told you! You should have gone to Santa Clara University like Kris. He was my perfect student, he always did everything I asked him to, plus he played sports. He was a wonderful student, just like Tom. Why didn't you listen! Now I'm going to have to brain wash you, Eric, AGAIN, just like I did the first time I brought you back to life! Well, at least I still have Alan." The grouped, skocked to hear about Alan, Eric, and Mr. G. all turned and stared at Alan.
Tom screamed and rushed forward. "I knew something wasn't right!!!!" he yelled as he snatched up Rowena's gun and began firing in Mr. G's direction.

He managed to punture him with enough holes that resembled swiss cheese before a blunt thwack knocked him out from behind. The last thing he heard was Angela scream "oh my God!!!" before blacking out.

When Tom came to, he was

in the local jail with the rest of the gang. They were all under the influence, most likely from the last pizza they got from Round Table. He knew it tasted funny, but he had ignored that as well as the fact that the walls seemed to be melting. He signed in relief when he realized he really hadn't kicked Eric's head in and shot at Mr. G. He wonders what Freud would think.

"I'm gonna get Sophia for this," muttered Jen. (Sophia worked at Round Table.)

After a few hours stuck in the slammer, everyone started to get cabin, or should I say jail, fever. They were all bouncing off the walls, literally. Molly flew by Alan's head, thwacking the side of his head as she passed by, and the next thing she knew, she had passed completely through the window bars and landed on the other side.

"Molly! Molly! Get us out of here! Break us out!" the group called to her.

Molly found a jackhammer in a shed nearby and used it to break a hole through the wall. Of course, her being such a small and light beanie cow and all, it took her over an hour since it was more the jackhammer controlling her than vice versa, but fortunately, the guards had fallen asleep from too much Jerry Springer. The group climbed through the whole in the wall and huddled together outside.

"Now to find Sophia and get our revenge for the doctored pizza that landed us in jail in the first place!" Jenny cried. Off they all went to storm Round Table.

It was unusually pleasant at Round Table Pizza that day. The sun was shining through the windows and Sophia remarked that the customers were unusually pleasant and well mannered. The music gave the room a soothing air of unusual pleasantness. Everyone was happy and carefree. She could tell because the plates were dancing with the glasses. The door opened and a smiling gorilla in an Easter Bonnet and chef's apron came in. Sophia repeated her unusually pleasant welcoming line and asked her what she would like to order.

"Aren't you unusually pleasant this morning," commented the gorilla as she twirled her blonde curls, "I'd like a medium pepperoni and mushroom pizza to go."

"Pan or regular?"

"Pan thank you."

"Okay, your total is $18.36."

The gorilla pulled a sequined purse from under her apron. She fished through it, pulling out a mackerel and two extremely large trout before finding her wallet. Sophia said it would be ready soon and suggested that the gorilla should have a seat. Sophia whistled an unusually pleasant tune as she went back to tidy up a bit. In less time than usual, the pizza was ready and Sophia carried it to the gorilla's table.

Outside, Angela, Tom, Jenny, Molly, Alan, and the others stormed up to the door on this scorching hot day.

"She's going to pay!!!" yelled Molly as Jenny lifted her up to help her through the door. They march in and see Sophia at one of the booths and overhear the conversation before they had moved two feet.

"Hey! I ordered a three meat pizza!! Didn't you hear me!!! One- Two- Three- meat," he yelled, counting it off on his fingers.

Oblivious to what the customer had just said, Sophia commented with an unusually pleasant smile, "yes, aren't those mushrooms unusually pleasant. Everyone's been ordering them. In fact, I've been snacking on them all day."

"You don't understand! I hate mushrooms!!! Let me speak to the manager"

"No thanks, we aren't allowed to accept tips."

Jenny and Eron exchange glances as the middle-aged man stood up, throwing down his napkin and storming past the astonished group.

"Wasn't she unusually pleasant," Sophia commented before noticing the group by the door. "Oh, hi everyone, would you like some pizza? I'll put extra mushrooms on it, just how you like it."

"What kind of mushrooms are those?" Eric inquired.

"The ones Tom gave me of course. They're really good."

The group turned to face Tom but he was no longer with them.

"We should have guessed," Jenny realized, "after all, Tom wasn't there when we ordered the pizza from Sophia."

"But then again neither was Angela," responded Eric.

AND NOW THE CONTINUAL CONTINUATION:

Suddenly, Cal went into convulsions. The room was spinning at an incredible rate, not the usually pleasant spinning effects from the pizza. Cal heard a jumble of words from "Somebody call 911" to "Were those imitation mushrooms?" (We were worried about the mushrooms being imitation because Cal is very very allergic to imitation ham, but the doctors never could figure out why.)

Cal woke up in a hospital bed with the group sitting anxiously. The doctor came in to brief and everyone on Cal's condition. Turns out he was allergic.

"Dr. Lynn," the embarrassed Molly muttered after pulling the doctor aside, "I didn't know you worked here."

"Oh yes," Molly's counselor replied, "I have to do community service for graduate school."

Molly exclaimed, "Graduate school! I thought you were a legitimate therapist!"

"I am. Once I get my degree, I'll be a psychiatrist. Until then, I'm just a counselor/therapist," sighed Dr. Lynn.

"Hey, look at this," Bec said with her laptop on her lap.

"She can't part with that thing for one second," Jen muttered. Everybody crowded around Bec and her computer that was connected to the hospital room wall via a phone cord. Bec clicked a link and up popped an article. THOMAS S****** AND ANGELA G***** DIED IN 1899.

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