Charlie's Angel Killed by Granddaughter

LOS ANGELES, CA – The adventurous Jill Munroe finally met her match this past Sunday at the hands of her eight-year-old granddaughter. Ms. Munroe was a noted adrenaline junkie, having spent her teen years performing such daring feats as jogging, with her long blonde hair and knockout body, from one end of Watts to the other wearing only a laced bikini– until the day a group of sistahs took her into an alley and shaved her head. This traumatic event prompted her to become an L.A. cop before being hired by the Townsend Agency as one of three beautiful private investigators, or, as they were known in the vernacular, Charlie’s Angels, which she quit after a year to drive race cars. She flirted with death all her life, and now the long courtship has been consummated with a projectile through the eye-socket that punctured her frontal lobe and thalamus. The projectile was a bullet fired from her own Glock-28 by Munroe’s grandkid, Tabitha.

Munroe had been telling Tabitha about her days with Charlie’s Angels when she and her fellow pageant-contestants-turned-snoops, Sabrina Duncan and Kelly Garrett, would point their pistols at hulking bad guys and yell the word “freeze” in high squeaky girly voices. In the beginning, the criminals would just laugh and lift the Angels into the air and twirl them around for kicks, as is done in pairs figure skating. Then the TV networks convinced the male heavies to go along with the script, to fall down whenever Munroe gave them a karate kick that, in reality, hurt no more than a bad episode of One Day at a Time. The guys even looked upon it as the ultimate thespian challenge to act cowed and frightened in response to a 110-pound babe wearing a halter top and five-inch heels telling them “this is the end, buster.”

Munroe went on to relate to Tabitha about all the fun the Angels would have at the expense of their immediate supervisor, John Bosley. The girls knew that this was the closest this goofy, unattractive middle-aged man would ever come to such a trio of smoking hot babes in their sexual prime. Munroe proposed the idea of going braless while working their cases just to tease Bosley and perhaps drive him insane or to become a serial rapist. Sabrina was the first to say okay the memo, as she had no tits anyway and therefore no need of mammary support. Kelly really got into the spirit one day when she showed up at a briefing – this was when the disembodied voice of Charlie would instruct them about their next mission – in just a pair of panties and a wet T-shirt. Bosley could barely stay focused on the business at hand, as, at one point, Charlie asked him if anything was wrong, to which Bosley, in his customary voice that always seemed to be part spit, said: “Charlie, you don’t know how right everything is, oh how very right, but wrong, too.”

It was always assumed that Jill Munroe left the Angels – to be replaced by her little piece-of-ass sister, Kris – to pursue a career in car racing. This is half true. Munroe confessed to her granddaughter that the reason Charlie spoke to the Angels over an intercom was that he was shy around women who bore firearms in their cute handbags. But one night Jill heard a knock on her door, asked who it was, and heard the famous Charlie voice from the patio. She opened the door to discover a white-haired gentleman dressed in sweatpants and a tank top waving around a fifth of Captain Morgan.

“Charlie?” asked Munroe, who had been reading a Tolstoy novel in nothing but a pink teddy, and with her hair and make-up done up as if in readiness to appear on Good Morning America. “Is that you?”

“You bet your sweat ass it’s me, Angel. May I – hiccup – come in?”

To make a long story (one featuring one hour of drunken impotence that was cured by a stack of Hustler Magazines) short, Charlie got Jill pregnant with Tabitha’s mother, Zoe. A sobered up Charlie arranged that Jill hide her condition in a French resort in the Alps, and, to keep Jill happy, he pulled a few strings to give his fallen Angel a career in Grand Prix auto racing. Meanwhile, Zoe lived in boarding schools throughout her youth, since the important thing was that Jill be an inspiration to her daughter about what a woman could do in terms of high adventure so long as the woman in question has the financial support of a black-mailed sugar daddy. Zoe would just have to understand that not having a mother around paled in comparison to being able to brag to people how her mother drove race cars, jumped out of planes and ran with the bulls in Pamplona and the water buffalo in Kansas.

Jill told all this to Tabitha on a gun range while grandmother taught granddaughter all about being a free spirit – that is, shooting a Glock-28 like a guy in an action movie. At the end of the tale, Tabitha fired the pistol a few times at a target fifty yards away. Then the eight-year-old girl turned to Munroe, and said:

“So you left my mommy alone so you could drive cars real fast and hang out with cattle?”

“Well,” said Jill, “it wasn’t as simple as that.”

“Yes it was, you selfish bitch,” replied Tabitha, as utilized her weapons training and shot her grandmother right through the eye.

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