“I called Decker to clean up the murdered fella in my rental,” Johnson said. “I called you to clean up the unicorn what killed him.”

“Well, Mr. Johnson, we at Robinson Cleaning are at your service with reasonable rates and quick turnarounds.” Alan Robinson shot a quick, sidelong glance at the “Decker & Co Royal Flush Cleaning” truck already in the lot. “As soon as that lazy roustabout Jim Decker is done, of course.”

Johnson squirted something from between his front two teeth into the grass. “You think you can do better? You saying I should’ve called you instead?”

“No, sir,” Alan said. “Decker’s the once licensed and bonded by the great state of Mississippi to clean up natural crime scenes. But I’m the one licensed and bonded by the great state of Mississippi to clean up supernatural messes, and I think you’ll fine I leave much less of my job for the other fella to do.”

“We’ll see about that. I’m already in two grand on this place just to get it rented again. Damn Chinese virus is bad enough for business without a man bleeding out on my carpets, and putting two bullet holes in my walls to take that damn horny-horse with him besides.”

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