Ketchup

"It's only ketchup, it's only ketchup" was the mantra she chanted as she walked through the front door of the tiny little house on Sheradan street. Everything looked the same aside from the bullet hole in the rear window and the puddles of blood on the carpet. Opps, I mean ketchup. It's easier to clean it up if you don't think about the violence that happened the night before. Instead of a gun slinging lunatic, she imagined a Friday night barbeque where a food fight had broken out and red colored condiments were spilled in the mass chaos.

It didn't work, none of it worked. As she walked by the bathroom and saw the insides of a human sprayed on the wall she knew this was going to be a lot more difficult than she thought. An attempted murder suicide that left one woman stuck in an imaginary love triangle. This sounds like I'm summarizing a Lifetime movie but I'm not. Instead I'm giving you a brief overview of what happened to my sister's mother-in-law Friday night.

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Nobody deserves this... ever. Please say a pray for Larry, Kathy, Ryan and Erin. I would really appreciate it.