windowless study XXXI

The jagged yellow forks arced across the sky at breakneck speed and headed straight for the upper section of Mr. Peru’s ill-prepared cranium. The tin-foil hat he had been wearing shot towards the heavens. When the firebolts were finished with Mr. Peru all that was left of him was an ashen outline embedded into the pavement like a shadow road-kill. The tin-foil hat was nowhere to be found.