6:15am

6:15 am
It smelled, rotten, like decayed faeces.
It was a dead body. At my doorstep.
A man, young seemingly. Was this an idea of a practical joke? I was scared stiff, more by the pungent odour than the atmopshere of death. What to do? My milo was getting cold. I could just go back and wait for someone else to discover it.
That's just what I did. I shut the door and returned to my laptop. "The stock market waits for no one, especially not with this recession palava..." I said to myself.

12:00 noon
Out the back door into my car and off to my michael's place. No dead men for me. Only real men.
Oh no. It was her. "Her!" Funke had been at Michaels place. Overnight.
"She spent the night?!" "You are moving on..?"
The closing bell had been wrung. It was over. The stockmarket, Michael. Everything. Or was it...?

12:00 Midnight
Real men do not exist. At least not in the real world.
Driving, "aaaargggh!" I hate driving. I hate the weight of this revolver more.
"He's in his room, lets put his body in the car..." said Funke.
Funke gave me a new world, a new way of thinking, feeling. With every emotion came warmth yet a degree of intensity with Funke. Michael had no clue.
My Funke and I do not fit the status quo. My sweet mother, brother my exes never liked the idea of Funke and I. "It's not natural" "God hates that practice..." they said.
But Funke my transient fantasy, my doorway to a new world, a new understanding.
Funke's beautiful neck broken, cracked like a piece of china.
There they lay, Funke, Michael, dead. I was more disturbed by the horrid decor than the 'deathness' of them both.

6:15am
It smelled bad, rotten, like decayed faeces.
It was a dead body. At my door step. A man, a real man. Young, seemingly.
This, this was a practical joke. Very practical.
My milo was getting cold. Somewhere, 'awon boys' under the carter bridge would discover whats left of my Funke. Best to wait for the police now...