Lamb.Ref

I walked downstairs to the acrid smell of burning flesh. My darling wife Elizabeth was holding a leg of lamb. Or at least what I thought was a leg of lamb. It certainly was lamb a few hours ago when she brought it down on the neck of the intruder. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a disconcerting amount of enthusiasm for a small woman who had, just a few hours ago, killed a man with what was supposed to be the highlight of our Sunday dinner. Of course Elizabeth had always had a penchant for acting and overreacting, so I wasn't scared in the slightest. And any panicked woman would do the same if the town's most prolific robber had broken into her house.you know, it's actually quite funny looking back. Elizabeth had wanted to hide the body under the irises in some sort of clandestine operation like a wannabe spy. Luckily with equal parts cynicism and my signature natural charm, I convinced her to call the station and let the sheriff handle it. 

A/N 

I can't end stories for the life of me