[ WP ] Rewrite your favorite knock-knock joke as a serious story .

The letter came on the November 2nd, it was in a nondescript white envelope, completely unwrinkled, her address printed neatly with robotic looking letters in sharp black ink. It seemed far too clean in general, there were no wrinkles or smudges, it was as if someone had shrink wrapped it. But of course Marie was n't thinking that when she opened it. The thought crossed her mind briefly perhaps, but it was n't until after she opened and read the letter did she begin to think frantically about its semantics... if it matched the others in the news. `` Banana.'' It said. Marie liked banana's actually, she read an article somewhere that most people do n't get enough potassium. But in this context, the word scrawled in straight and cutting letters on equally clean and unwrinkled paper... there were far more sinister undertones associated with it. 
 
 Marie phoned the police, who informed her they would be dispatching a car to take her to the station so the letter could be analysed. To her dismay, after all the analysing was done it was positively matched to the others. The officers at the station told her not to worry, they would be dispatching a team to watch her 24/7, nothing would happen to her, she would be safe, they even went as far as to say that there was nothing to worry about, maybe no more letters would be sent. But that did little to ease Marie's shattered nerves, it did little to shift her from the gaze of the'banana killer'. 
 
 Her house was watched by Bill and John both corporals with excellent records. She was interviewed on the news, had paid leave from work. It was quite nice actually. Then the second letter came. `` Banana'' it said, and Marie's world once again shattered to the ground and she could n't stop looking over her shoulder. Then the third letter came, and she new it might only be a matter of time before she was dead, nobody had escaped the knife of the banana killer. He always killed after the third letter. 
 
 `` It'll be OK.'' 
 
 `` He wo n't get passed us.'' 
 
 `` You've got nothing to worry about.'' 
 
 All these things were said, and after the third letter two extra officers were by her side, but it still did nothing to calm her. 
 
 It was midnight. Marie was lying awake in bed, the street lights cast shadows through her window, every silhouetted lamp post and shrub projected onto her wall looked like a murderer poised to strike. Her heart pounded in here ears like the percussion section of an orchestra preparing for the final movement. Suddenly a shadow moved past the street lights and shrubs. Marie bolted upright, a scream welling in her stomach, her vocal chords milliseconds away from strumming into action. A leather gloved hand attached itself to her face, constricting itself over her mouth. 
 
 `` Shhhh'' came a eerily soft voice, she could feel his hot breath around her ear. She felt a knife run against her throat. She was shaking, she could n't think straight. But out of the convoluted stream of consciousness that her fight or flight response had kicked up, a single thought emerged. This is it. This is how it ends. Marie squeezed her eyes shut, tried not to think about how it would happen, how she would be gutted and cut up like all the other victims in the news. She tried desperately hard to transport her mind to a different place, but she could n't, she could n't help but focus on the knife pressed into her throat. Her heart was beating faster and faster, the drums pounding away, the orchestra about to reach the final climactic notes... 
 
 And then there was no knife on her throat, she looked around the room and could n't spot anyone. A note fell out of her shaking hands, the calligraphic lettering all too familiar. Her hands continued to trembled as she opened it. 
 
 `` Orange.''
