Morning in America
In the soft glow of the dashlight the killers sat. Sure, the car looked soccer mom-ish, but the little yellow sign on back read "Floating Goth Killers on Board" - or at least it should have. The soft glow of the dash played on the passenger's thick hair as it whipped around after being struck by the awesome illuminative power of the duel volkswagen beetle headlights, beaming at maximum power. Illuminated from every direction, it was clear the driver was still listening, listening to this passenger, his hands sweating as he firmly gripped the steering wheel of his late model soccer mom vehicle. Was that a wedding band on his hand? Was it platinum? Who can say? Was it a wedding band, or indeed was that an artifact of light playing off the soccer mom style windshield. Hey, normal people aren't ring or car scientists, ok?
Sure a normal observer might take notice of the jewelry of drivers she passes, but it can be tough at 5 a.m., what with so many things happening at once. The darker secret, though was hidden from view. The driver sported size 12 feet. Imagine his fury at having seen a pair of size 12 HP orbitals downstairs neatly packed for donation that just happened to match his own pair of size 12 HP knock offs. The passenger had said don't worry nobody has those they're rare! But she had been wrong! They had taken both pair and that terrible coincidence was averted. But as he say listening to her, as the maximum strength high beams played across his face, which oddly remained completely undescribed, he couldn't help but think, "Yeah, you have a lot of room to talk - you and those Sasquatch size 10 men's clompers you sport at the bottom of what you call legs."
The two killers had come so close to getting away with it all. They had driven far into a neighborhood and picked out a house and broke into it, just happening to do it with no signs on entry, and murder a young mother without leaving any evidence in the house. They even found a hose outside for last second rinse-offs.
And yet, Goths not being known for being rude or rashly breaking traffic laws, they had executed a three point turn in the driveway of the unknown house, and stopped at the end of the driveway, looking carefully for traffic before proceeding. As they politely waited for the VW bug to go by, they both thought how rude it was that someone would shine bright lights in a neighborhood at 5 am (bright lights are necessary to avoid deer when careening along at 20mph something Goths probably don't know!) and not even wave.
After making sure the coast was mostly clear, they pulled out cautiously into the flow of potential traffic and waved politely to the substitute newspaper person, both having the courtesy to have low beams on.
They, and their soccer mom style vehicle, were never seen again.
The end.