Jesus, what the hell happened here? Leiutenant Danielson bent down to examine the broken, twisted body, kicking away fluffs of cotton and errant cloth scraps to do so.


Flight attendant says he just went berserk. Cannonballed off the plane onto the runway, broke into the terminal, ran through the security checkpoints, stood screaming in the fountain for a minute, where he reportedly yelled to that frizzy-haired little blonde kid over there that he 'was not an asshole,' then came in here, Detective Johnson gestured to what remained of the safari-themed giftshop they stood in.


Well, what in Gods name did this to him, then?


He did. He did it to himself. The cashier, a Mr. David Spencer, says he got into a fist-fight with some pre-packaged salads - mostly Cobb, by the looks of them - and then just started tearing into the stuffed animals like a maniac. Demolished every single one, then just kind of twisted up into a ball and died.


Wait, what? Then what bent all of his limbs backwards? The rookie seemed green, stifling a sickness.


Willpower, Danielson. Pure, unrestrained force of will, Johnson answered.


Hell of an afternoon, Danielson said, standing and turning away just a bit too quickly.


Afternoon? No, this whole thing took a minute and a half. From plane to man-ball: Ninety seconds.


Danielson resigned from the force the next morning. He currently volunteers full time at the Serene Shores Rehab Center in South Beach. He still suffers from night-terrors and Post Traumatic Impotency.

The End

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