The putrid smell burned her nose. Her breakfast was quickly coming up her
throat. The darkness of the room disoriented her as she felt around for a
light switch. “Where the hell am I?” asked Charlemagne Brochette. Her
grogginess added to her confusion as to how she was brought here.
“Me, of all people, the Madame from New Orleans, was brought here by my limousine driver?” She quickly reviewed what she remembered. I was chosen as the only female juror in a serial killer’s trial. He was called “the witch doctor” by the media. Sure his style was a little eccentric, capturing his prey by injecting the women with morphine. But, I thought he didn’t
commit the crime since they had no real hard evidence.
I made a few enemies because I would not allow my brilliant knowledge
affect my determination. I figured they were just a bunch of hicks. Perhaps
I opened my mouth at the wrong time. So, this is the thanks I get for allowing a murderer to go free.
“I smell like puke! Okay, I get it!” I shouted. “At least let me shower before you kill me! Your breath alone will do the trick!
There was no light at all in this hotel room. I had completely lost my bearings. Once I felt for a light switch only to get zapped with a bolt of electricity through my left arm. Do you know who you are fooling with? That was when a hot stench of breath touched my neck. Okay, this isn’t funny anymore.
“Hello?? I can not see you, so why not at least let me shower?” Suddenly, a door flew open with bright lights striking me dead in my eyes. “Gee!” Now you are trying to blind me? As quick as lightning I was shoved into the small bathroom. Finally, he listens! I pulled the shower curtain back where three women with mutilated bodies drenched in their own blood. My breakfast came up and spewed all over them. I want out of this room immediately! While he was playing his little game of cat and mouse, I decided to create a little mischief on my part. As the actress I portrayed a poor defenseless woman at the mercy of a madman. If he wanted a fight I’d give it to him. I gracefully fainted. It seemed to take him a while to investigate what had happened since the bathroom
door was locked from the outside.
Little did he know I had enough time to water down the floor and took the shampoo at the mercy of the stinking hotel and threw it all over the floor. As he entered, he slipped and fell, hitting his head,on the back of the sink.
Looking down with a frown on my face lay the one juror who kept to himself.
“Ha!” I laughed, how ironical is it when the killer becomes a juror in his own
“I had been right all along! Never second guess a Madame from New Orleans, we are not as stupid as we look!”
I am a true Southern Belle from Louisiana. I know how other people like to judge how smart we really are!