Really, really bad short story endings...

But Carpenter didn’t care about any of that right now. He realized- maybe for the first time- that what Johnny the Preacher had told him had been true- hell, he lived it…
He looked at his worn brown shoes and sighed. Johnny the Preacher- Christ- what he got into with Marie down at Cutter’s Lake…he could never talk about that. No one could.
The wind outside the bar was picking up and Carpenter knew he had to go. He had survived childbirth, he had now survived the last 37 hours. He felt a certain low-key pride; pride in the fact he was still standing. His whole life stood before him, and he smiled a crooked smile. He was going to be ‘okay’ after all. After all that.
With a strong, stately stride Carpenter strode out of the bar and was hit flush by a crazed and drugged musk oxen, which the Miller brothers had been messing with. He died without knowing what hit him.
The wind continues to blow in Granite Hills…

Brandon’s hand on the side of her face, their lips met for the first time. Jenny shuddered as desire rose through her and it fed the fiery heat emanating from their entwined bodies. His hands traced her lines and curves, exciting the parts that longed for his touch. Together they sank to the bed and began in earnest to stoke the flames of passion. She enveloped him with her deepest self and drew him close where molded as one they made love. Finally spent, and tangled in the sheets, he laid his head on her chest and fell into a post-coital stupor whereupon Jenny Gladstone nee Mantid reverted to type and bit off his head.

With a sudden upwelling of reverence, Robert Langdon fell to his knees.

For a moment, he thought he heard a woman’s voice… the wisdom of the ages… whispering up from the chasms of the earth.
Oh, sorry, you said short story…

Dirk held the crumbled up piece of paper in his hands. The key- the key to everything is in my hands, he acknowledged. Dirk farted and once again looked at the words on the paper:
" My alma mater and diner instructs Dirk in Tibet. " But what could this mean?
Dirk farted and once again looked at the words on the paper. He was exhausted- hungry- for food, for love, for anything or anyone…just so hungry for the answers he knew existed on this page.
Dirk started to fart- and caught himself. No time for that now, and he noticed something on the page he had not seen prior to this time. A…device. Yes; mnemonic device…yes…look…
M…a…m…a by taking the first letter of each word in succession Dirk had stumbled upon the answer- with the graceful nuance of a galloping, sick elk…
The note really read: Mama did it.
Mama did it.
Mama did it.

Okay, a bad ending to a bad short story.

The animals ate the pineapple.

ETA: Okay, so it isn’t such a bad ending.