CSI: Living Room

Inspiration to write comes from the strangest places for me. Usually, it is unexpected, sudden, fleeting, and follows long periods of sleeplessness. Mainly the latter. It is important to know that all names have been changed to protect the innocent. So without further ado...

It was a dark and stormy night. Really, it was. The cold late fall wind broken only by a single pane of glass and shale blue siding coated 2x6 exterior walls. The normal rounds were being made, picking up the toy carnage from the day, making sure doors are locked, washing dishes, etc. It was during the first chore that the bone chilling discovery was made. There it was lying on the light tan shag carpet. The initial shock melted away and courage replaced fear. Should I touch it, he wondered? What if it is dangerous still? Can the lab even identify it? There was only one way to find out.

It looked like it wasn't the only casualty found, others had met similar fates. But a quick ID check showed them to be fairly durable to the elements of the living room. Shoving good reason to the side, he reached down and picked it up. Hmmm, semi firm to the touch, jagged edges, and from the looks of things, time of death had been about 17:30 one week earlier. The sniffer test brought him back to some memory from the past. What was that memory? Another sniff, then another, yes now he new, it was the memory of summer time cookouts, burnt cylinders of meat, that if covered with enough mustard tasted good. There was only one thing it could be, a postmortem always save frank.

"Come quick", he hollered to his partner, "get a load of this." "Can you tell me what that is", he inquired of her. "It isn't poop is it?" she groaned. "No, not that bad, but you still don't want to touch it." After a short once over of the victim she exclaimed, "IT'S A HOTDOG!" Was to be more exact. "Who do you think did it?" "That's what I aim to find out," he said.

The suspects were few, and easy to find. Interogation was impossible. Slumber had overtaken both of them. But the rap sheets were bad news. There was the terrible duo, Frogboy and Monkey Ma'am. Skillful in the art of aquiring candy with only a smile and then sneaking it into their mouths, they were a definite suspect.

Then there was the pink puffball, she was skilled in mess making, rolling away, and loud diversions. A definite plus in such a crime.

Finally, the Crazy Santa Man was the prime suspect. He is highly mobile, skilled in breaking and entering, lacks discretion in most areas, and known to not eat his whole meal. This most certainly had to be our man.

"We'll question him in the morning, probably won't get much out of him besides a "nope, dease, dank you, or airplane sound."

But if I was a betting man, I'd say we can close this case.