Nick Beard sat on his rear in solitary confinement. It was a small, dark, damp room with a flickering light above that attracted moths and other insects (when they didn't enjoy the comfort of his beard.) He was cross legged with his scruffy hair hanging over his face. He could not believe it, but he had been caught in his own lies by a rookie attorney. One who managed to overturn the whole court case in a single sentence.

"When I get out of here," he snarled in his nasal voice. "I'm gonna make that fake nerd girl pay! When I see that hot pink business suit, there will be blood."

The thought of himself seizing Mina Hawkins by her pencil thin neck and slamming her to the ground made Nick Beard chuckle. He snorted loudly and began laughing. His mirth, however, was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Nick answered, trying to sound like he was contemplating another murder.

"Warden..." said a voice abruptly.

Nick raised his beady eyes. What could the warden possibly want? He had already been visited by the head of the jail when it was time to turn in for the night. Now it was surely 1 or 2 o'clock in the morning.

The door opened and a man with a police hat pulled over his eyes entered the room. Nick could not see his face. He wore a very large jacket over his security uniform. One that was so baggy it was nearly impossible to see the man's physique.

The man lifted his hat and Nick exclaimed, "You! You're not the warden."

"Psyche!" Ritchie Lord said, a glint in his spectacles and a wide grin on his face. "I got to you in the Nick of time!"

Stolen story; please report.

"Enough with the puns!" Nick Beard screamed. "You set me up! You were the one at the studio who told me about the guns. And told me to switch them."

Lord pulled up his glasses and snickered. "You still did it, Nickerooni! You killed my brother so I didn't have too. And now my hands are clean...almost!"

"Huh?!" Nick Beard said, his round face turning purple like an eggplant. "What do you mean?!"

Ritchie laughed again, his voice merciless and cold. "It's as simple as this. You almost squealed to the judge even when I told you not to. Especially when there was unforeseen consequences!"

"B-but," Nick Beard shouted and his face darkened in the flickering lamplight. "I'm gonna squeal now. My mom says I squeal like a pig when I want Pizzapockets and you bet I'm gonna tell everyone the truth about you, Dick Lord!"

"Ah..." Ritchie said, feigning surprise. "The Aura wouldn't like that. And as a high ranking member, I've been sent to keep you quiet."

The man slowly began to unzip his jacket, revealing a enormous purple carnation.

"When I squeeze this carnation," Ritchie said with a taunting smile. "It will emit toxic laughing gas. And you will enjoy a very amusing death."

"Waitaminute!" Nick said, holding up his hands. "I won't squeal. I promise. I'll never squeal!"

"You know what they say, my boy. Snitches end up with stitches. And in this case, laugh right outta their britches!"

With a squeeze of his flower, a thick purple gas seeped from the flower into the room and surrounded Nick Beard. He felt a tickle in his throat and then he started to giggle. The giggle turned into a laughter and then big whoops and gasps.

Ritchie Lord has removed a mask from his jacket and placed it over his face.

"No...hahaha..." Nick roared with laughed. "Nooooo hahahaha. I don't want to die...haha I've never known the touch of a woman....unless ...my mother counts....hahaha."

"No it doesn't," Ritchie said, jeering cruelly. "But I'm definitely keeping you mum now...."

Nick's body jerked in spasmodic motions from the laughter. But slowly he came to a stand still. The last thing he saw was Ritchie admiring his handiwork.

"Now that's what I call a tragi-comedic demise!"

And Nick was gone.