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Tuesday, June 16, 2015

When Homonyms Kill

They slip into the cemetery in the still hour before dawn. They work silently, unsealing the tomb in no time. They take deep breaths, make the sign of the cross and enter.

The air is close and fetid. Two of them slide the heavy lid from the crypt. The other two take their positions. One of them pulls a mallet from his coat. He speaks over his shoulder to the other one.

"The stake."

They look on – aghast - at the choice cut of meat slapped into his palm. There is a stirring in the crypt.