Wastelanders

 Leroy Lackee defenestrated the corpse; watched it tumble, striking the side of the building and splatting to pudding in the ice and snow: the landing shielded from the street by dumpster bins. No immediate sound of alarm was raised. One shoe of his former boss had fallen on the window seat. Leroy grabbed the Buster Brown and was about to pitch it into the gloom but hesitated.

“How about a pickled herring?”