Hey thanks man! Yeah, I always have trouble choosing just one idea to focus on. I get a lot of feedback that my writing has been more just collections of interesting ideas than real storylines. I'm definitely trying to work on that though.
As far as zany comedy vs. murder mystery - the story definitely leans more towards satire than mystery. Later on it's revealed that a "murderer" in this story is just someone who helps people with massive student loan debt fake their own deaths. To be fair, the rest of the first 250 words isn't all that attention grabbing, it just sort of follows a natural course of conversation. I'm not really sure if it's a good way to start the story, but the rest of the 250 is here:
As if telling his shrink about four-dimensional alien hallucinations wasn't stressful enough, Wasd Abcdef had an appointment to murder someone that day. His visit to (the highly recommended) Dr. Barnsquire at 4108 North Haverbridge Drive, Wintersworth, Old Hampshire went something like this:
“So, Mister—is it-- Ab-cid-def? Is that how you say it? Ab-cid-def?”
“Yes,” he replied. Regretting the decision to see a shrink almost immediately. He had never actually seen a shink before, but then again he had never seen a four-dimensional alien before and he figured that, at least while causality was alive and kicking, one ought to precede the other.
“Mister Abcidef? It’s spelled A-B-C-D-E-F here. I don’t want to offend you.” Wasd sighed. “Honestly I thought it was a placeholder when I first-”
“No, it’s fine. Let’s just get on with it, okay,”
“Good. Mister Abcdef, yes. It’s an odd last name. I mean- we can come back to that later,”
Wasd was silent. He’d had heard the routine many times.
“So you made an appointment to see me today because you- well, please correct me if I’m wrong here, but, you say you see visions. Is that right? Mister Abcdef-”
“Well, yes.” He replied honestly, leaning his head back in the padded felt chair.
“Visions,” the old shrink repeated. Incredulous.
“When you experience these visions,” Dr. Barnsquire began, pulling out a sheet of paper and placing it crisply on the small wooden pad before leaning back in his own chair. “What- uh, brings them about?”