Thursday, February 17, 2011


It was a cold, rainy Valentine's Day here in Boston. Over a dozen men were walking through the concurse of the Frasier Investments Building in 10 Post Office Square dressed in Pampers and dress shirts with little red sashes over their shoulders that said "Happy Valentine's Day from Frasier Investments." A lot of the clients visiting that day were so disgusted by this that they walked out of the building.  As they were marching through the concourse, they were all singing "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" and "Won't You Be My Valentine?"

Suddenly, several cars from the Boston Police Department sped into the square and a dozen cops entered the building.

"You're all under arrest for indecent exposure!" the head cop said. "You have the right to remain silent; anything you say will be taken down and used against you as evidence."

One of the men pulled out a gun and shot the cop right in the jaw. Within seconds, the two factions started a gun battle which resulted in dozens of people being caught in the crossfire and getting killed or badly wounded. They butchered away for nearly 10 minutes. When it was over, only 2 of the cops were alive(and they were wounded, but with non-life threatening injuries) while not one of the Cupids were left alive.

As a number of other cops came in to investigate, they saw the spirits of the men dressed as Cupid ascend out of their bodies and, lifted up by angel's wings, disappeared into the sky. As they rose, the began to sing:

"Let Me Call You Sweet Heart!
La la la la la la!"

In all, 65 men and women died in that ten minute stretch; over 125 were injured(5 of them would die of their injuries several hours later). A lot of couples were left widowed and many children became orphans that day. And all because of a bunch of men sacrificing their professional integrity for the sake of celebrating Valentine's Day.

Anyway, when I heard that my ex-girlfriend had passed away that afternoon, I couldn't believe the news. She'd died after she stormed out of the flower shop where she worked after arguing with me over a delivery she had to make at the Frasier Building. The whole spat escalated when she threw the engagement ring I'd given her the night before into my face. And as she left, she told me, "We're through, Richard!" As she stormed out, she was hit by several bullets that were fired from someone who was driving by at the time(I learned later that it was her former boyfriend, who she broke up with several hours earlier).

Almost immediately, I had a nervous breakdown.

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