The Red Necktie. <br /> <br />He woke up, fully dressed but minus his tie, on a lumpy hotel bed <br />It was a down and out sort of local, the last semi civilized place <br />before sleeping rough. It reeked of sadness and stank of depravity. <br />He switched on the TV news, during the night a woman had been <br />brutally strangled with a tie. His heart sank, he sweated, stabbed <br />by fear but he couldn’t remember a thing, total black out; yet he <br /> vaguely remembered angry voices and someone running in a back <br />alley. Should he ring the TV channel and ask what colour the tie? <br />Or should he call the police and give himself up? His tie was green <br />with black dots on. There was rumbling from an old fridge in <br />the room, he opened it in the hope of finding a cold beer…. No beer, <br />but wrapped neatly around a bottle of whisky, a red silk tie.<br /><br />oskar hansen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/necktie/
