Full Service

The hotel manager looks up as the doors to the elevator open.  A disheveled man, dressed in a white robe covered with dark red stains, stumbles out through the doors and hurries over to the front desk.  His eyes are wild, and he appears to be in great distress.

“Oh God, I need help,” the man stammers.  “I…  I think I killed her.  Oh shit.  Oh shit.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” the manager assures him.  “We would be happy to… assist with your situation.  We are, after all, a full service hotel.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s