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Night of the Clippies (Part One)

From Clotheslines to Killers!

The late October night sky was clear, full of stars with a gentle push of wind coming from the east. Margaret Braeburn, thoroughly entrenched in her sixties and sporting all the vivacious curves of a fire hydrant, strode outside carrying a huge laundry basket full of bed sheets. According to Margie, a nickname used only by her closest friends, the night air always seemed to make them smell fresher. Her late husband, Ralph...