That’s How the Cookie Crumbles (part 11)

Note: this is the conclusion of the story.

The new editor and I escaped through the window. The hospital won’t discharge me yet, because my arm’s still busted. The third floor fire exit isn’t too kind to me. It’s cold, it’s damp, and I’m still hungry. Man, the new editor’s kinda good at this escaping stuff.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Done what before?”

“Escaping and stuff.”

“Yeah, especially when I’m grounded.”

Thought so.

“Wait here.”

“Here? In the bushes? Dogs piss here!”


“Alright, alright.” I whispered. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get the car.”

“Okey, okey.”

She sprinted off to the lone yellow VW Bug. I just hope her engine’s quiet. I could hear her start the engine. Oh s**t, it’s too damn loud. It sounds like a 40-year-old tug boat. She expects a silent getaway with that?

She idles in front of me. “Come in! Quick.”

I got in. It smelled nice. Reminds me of my dead grandmother. Or the funeral home we had her embalmed in.

“Where are we headed?’

“The Mayor’s house.”

“That’s all the way across the city!”

“Shut up. We’re getting a confession out of him.” She fastened her seatbelt. “Wear your seatbelt” I did as ordered. She stepped the pedal to the floor. Hyperdrive.

Half an hour in, and we were already in the middle of the City. She was driving like a bat out of Hell. Damn it, I need to pee.

“We’re almost there!”

“I wish! I need to take a piss1”

A light flashed. We both screamed. The breaks screeched. Crash.

Where the Hell am I?

“Good morning.” I think I’ve heard that voice before. I can’t see clearly. Everything’s fuzzy.

“You’ve been in a coma for 12 hours.” My vision’s getting clearer. It was the Mayor. “You thought you can get away with it, can’t you?”

“Oh, f**k you.”

“There’s nothing you can do anymore. My men burned the entirety of that envelope. You can squeal all you want, and no one will believe you.”


“What’s new? I’ve been doing this for years! Every building, every park in this City that I approved has been dealt with under the table. So far, the Statue’s my biggest cash cow!” I gritted my teeth.

“Have a nice day.” He left my room. Son of a bitch.

The nurse came in.

“Which paper would you want?” I picked the Chronicle. The front page picture was that of the Statue. Figures. Where’s the remote. I want to watch TV. Wait, what’s this? A tape recorder? I played the tape. It was the Mayor. It recorded everything he said awhile ago. Holy s**t. He confessed. Wait, who put this tape recorder in here in the first place? The new editor?

I went out of the room. I looked for the new editor. I asked the first person in a white coat I saw. She’s dead. F**k. I’m getting out of here. What time is it? I looked out the window. Almost noon. The Statue looks rather beautiful under direct sunlight. I heard a loud thunder-like sound, like something large cracked. It was the Statue. It cracked in half. Down, it crumbled. Must be my lucky day.


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