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[collapse=Notes from Glyph]Man, just missed the deadline too! EE told me about this prompt and it sounded really hilarious, but most everyone took a very serious stance on a very comedic prompt.
While I have nothing against that, and their stories are probably a lot better than mine, it bothered me that no one (that I read) wrote a comedy.
So, I did. Please note that this is ridiculously late and all and just for ****s and giggles.
Sorry if you don't like it I tried very hard[/collapse]
Some day this has been. My car doesn’t start, so I have to catch a ride with my neighbor who works in the same building. That wouldn’t have been so bad if his stomach had been a bit more at ease during the ride, I thought I was going to suffocate. So I finally show up at work, late thanks to some dumb kid getting in a wreck in the interstate (yeah turns out going 120 mph isn’t such a good idea bro. Oh, and I can feel you judging me already so just know he’s fine. Keep your undeserved feelings to superiority to yourself, please). I walk in, the boss chews me out for a good 30 minutes, and I walk off with my tail between my legs.
Oh but it gets better.
Stephen, the guy who does the write ups for all the cases, is out sick today. Apparently some ******* thought it would be a good idea to mention my name to the ol’ boss man, saying I’d just LOVE to write it up. Don’t worry about the fact that I have absolutely zero training in the field, I write a blog a whole 20 read so clearly I am a master writer.
Wonderful.
I’m sure there’s some kind of lingo and format I’m “in direct violation” of (heard that enough at this place), but **** it, if they wanted it done right they should have given it to someone else. My job is to put numbers in their little database, nothing more. … Actually, you know what? If I’m going to do this, I’m going to make it interesting. It may deviate a bit from the “official story”, but if I gave a **** I probably wouldn’t be working in this dump anyway.
The interrogation room was totally quiet, save for the quiet sobbing of a woman in the middle of the line-up. All suspects in the death of an old man, all little more than an arm’s length from the true murderer.
“So, that’s all of them?” Officer Ramirez whispered to his colleague from behind the one-way mirror.
“Oh, uh, yes, beyond a doubt, sir.” Stammered the officer. “Umm, our witnesses all point to these four being the only people who could have been present at the time of the, uh, crime. One of them must have killed ‘im, I’d stake my entire reputation on it!”
Said the awkward, faceless cop.
Ramirez’s blank expression was replaced with a powerful combination of anger and disbelief.
“You were hired yesterday, your reputation literally could not exist less than it does right now. You’ve put absolutely nothing on the line and… you know what? I take it back. You’re the ****ing ****** who thought rounding up four people made you super-cop. That’s your reputation, enjoy.”
Oh get TOLD. This isn’t so bad after all!
Ramirez peered through the glass at the suspects, watched them fidget as they subconsciously knew he was staring intently at them. It wasn’t difficult to tell they were all innocent. Their killer would never be apprehended so easily, not with the painstaking effort he put into his crime scene. Besides, none of these suspects had that killer vibe to them that he had learned to sense in his years on the force. These people were in the wrong place at the wrong time, nothing more, but he had to investigate them none the less.
The system works again.
“Ah, ah I’m uh, really sorry sir! It won’t happen again, promise!”
The new guy turned to leave the room, but paused when he reached the door.
“ …say, haven’t I seen you on TV or something before?”
“Kid, I’m the head of the largest police department in Mexico. I may have had a run-in with the media a few times. Of ****ing COURSE you’ve seen me on TV. Is everyone this dense up in the States? Just…just leave. Before I have to turn myself in for your murder, preferably.”
I left off the “said Officer Ramirez” stuff because I hate writing those. If you can’t tell who’s who, get your head out of your ***. There’s only two characters so far.
Ramirez chuckled to himself as the newbie scurried off on the brink of tears. If that didn’t teach the punk to respect the chain of command, nothing would. With a reluctant sigh, he turned his attention back to the problem at hand. Last night back an old man was found murdered in his mansion, beaten to death with a blunt object. Early forensics had turned up absolutely no leads, no DNA, no prints, nothing. All they had to go on was a few witness statements from the day before, saying that the four people currently fidgeting under Ramirez’s stare were on location. The first, a young woman…
You know what, screw it. The suspects are now characters from the board game Clue. I HAVE SPOKEN.
The first (Vivienne Scarlet), a young woman wearing a stunning red dress, was the old man’s mistress. His wife (one of the key witnesses in the case) told investigators that this young woman would often visit her husband for long games of chess in the bedroom. She never actually walked in on their game, because she was afraid of the screams of “mental frustration” that both parties seemed to be exerting, particularly as the game went on.
That sounds made up, but that is LITERALLY in the case file. Sounds like his wife may have left him high and dry both sexually and mentally if it got to this point.
Surprisingly, Miss Scarlet has been fully cooperative with the police investigation. She admitted to sleeping with the old man, answered all questions posed to her, and even helped them get a better layout of the mansion, though she really only seemed to know the way to the bedroom.
As it should be with every woman! Am I right, fellas?!
She told investigators that the victim had been supporting her financially in return for their “chess matches”, and she was probably going to be homeless within the month without him. When his will was reviewed, there is no mention of her, nor did she appear in any of the drafts.
“No motive. He was the only thing keeping this girl going, she wouldn’t off him out of nowhere like this. Besides, she looks like she could lift a paper bag full of packing peanuts, much less beat a man to death.” mused Ramirez.
He moved her file off to the side, he had all the evidence he needed to clear Miss Scarlet.
Miss Scarlet did it in the bedroom with the low self-esteem.
The second file, a Mr. John Green, seemed to be a much more likely candidate. He already had built up a long criminal record for numerous thefts and grifting operations, and was actually apprehended while he was robbing the old man. We were lucky to catch him, had the murder report not come in when it did he would have made off with nearly everything that man had.
“He’s a better fit than Scarlet, but no record of assault, much less murder… I doubt he would have had the stomach for it.” Ramirez pushed that file aside as well.
Reading is for squares, let’s do something else now Ramirez.
Bored with reading, as such an activity is for squares, Ramirez decided to pack up the last two files and head down to the actual crime scene, a much more exciting place to be. The forensics team was still scouring the area hoping to turn up some crucial piece of evidence. Ramirez blew past the yellow tape, briefly flashing his badge to gain entry. Before terribly long, Ramirez found himself standing over a large pool of dried blood. This was where the old man had died, confused and alone. Ramirez found himself scanning the room for hints towards the killer’s identity, hints he knew he’d never find. His forensics team didn’t miss much, and he certainly didn’t think himself better than their combined efforts. And still, precaution bade him to look around. He wandered the mansion, searching every room for something, anything that would break this case. This continued until he reached the parlor, a magnificent room that seemed to beckon to Ramirez. He figured this was as good a place as any to take a look at those last two files.
Back on that reading thing already are you?! Fine. See what I care.
He laid both files down on a large desk and sat in a surprisingly comfortable chair. He opened up the third file, which was on Professor Peter Plum. Plum had been serving as an advisor of sorts to the victim at the time of his death, helping to expand his vast collection of oddities. Plum’s previous experience as a museum curator made him the ideal fit for such a job, but unfortunately did not make him a murderer. Ramirez looked at the fourth file, knowing that if this didn’t contain a likely suspect then it’d be his own *** on the line. He needed a scapegoat that fit the crime, and none of these other three would be believable enough to take the fall.
Oh **** what’s this? Ramirez isn’t such a nice guy after all?
He breathed in heavily, and opened the file.
“Officer Ramirez. Good to see you again, sir.”
The sudden appearance of the bumbling cop from earlier took Ramirez off guard, causing him to jump in his seat. There was something different about this scared newbie now though, his eyes were set firmly on Ramirez and there was no hint of uncertainty in his stare.
“We found the murder weapon, sir. Care to take a look at it?” Ramirez’s brow began to sweat as his “friend” slammed a blood spattered baseball bat down on the desk.
“You know, I finally remember where I know y-“
Ramirez cut his sentence short with a power crack to the jaw from the bat. The cop was sent reeling backwards, falling hard on his back. Ramirez stood over him and readied the bat for another strike.
Oh hell YES. See this is infinitely better than the report these jerks gave me to start off with.
The bumbling cop tried to get one last sentence in before the bat could land.
“So… so it turns out… its Man-
“Ramirez cut him off yet again with a sickening strike to the cop’s face, leaving the new cop’s face mangled and broken.
“That’s right, kid.”
“Manny Ramirez.”
Now, was the murderer really MLB “great” Manny Ramirez? Probably not, I mean I think he’s still in the states somewhere, and probably not the head of a police force in Mexico. Shouldn’t they be speaking Spanish in the largest police force in Mexico? Maybe, who’s to say? You? Well I didn’t realize you were such an expert on the field, if you’d like to re-write all the dialog in Spanish please go right ahead and fix that. Otherwise shut up and deal with how I did things.
In summary, **** this place, I hope you all get sued for this file. Have a great day!
While I have nothing against that, and their stories are probably a lot better than mine, it bothered me that no one (that I read) wrote a comedy.
So, I did. Please note that this is ridiculously late and all and just for ****s and giggles.
Sorry if you don't like it I tried very hard[/collapse]
Some day this has been. My car doesn’t start, so I have to catch a ride with my neighbor who works in the same building. That wouldn’t have been so bad if his stomach had been a bit more at ease during the ride, I thought I was going to suffocate. So I finally show up at work, late thanks to some dumb kid getting in a wreck in the interstate (yeah turns out going 120 mph isn’t such a good idea bro. Oh, and I can feel you judging me already so just know he’s fine. Keep your undeserved feelings to superiority to yourself, please). I walk in, the boss chews me out for a good 30 minutes, and I walk off with my tail between my legs.
Oh but it gets better.
Stephen, the guy who does the write ups for all the cases, is out sick today. Apparently some ******* thought it would be a good idea to mention my name to the ol’ boss man, saying I’d just LOVE to write it up. Don’t worry about the fact that I have absolutely zero training in the field, I write a blog a whole 20 read so clearly I am a master writer.
Wonderful.
I’m sure there’s some kind of lingo and format I’m “in direct violation” of (heard that enough at this place), but **** it, if they wanted it done right they should have given it to someone else. My job is to put numbers in their little database, nothing more. … Actually, you know what? If I’m going to do this, I’m going to make it interesting. It may deviate a bit from the “official story”, but if I gave a **** I probably wouldn’t be working in this dump anyway.
The interrogation room was totally quiet, save for the quiet sobbing of a woman in the middle of the line-up. All suspects in the death of an old man, all little more than an arm’s length from the true murderer.
“So, that’s all of them?” Officer Ramirez whispered to his colleague from behind the one-way mirror.
“Oh, uh, yes, beyond a doubt, sir.” Stammered the officer. “Umm, our witnesses all point to these four being the only people who could have been present at the time of the, uh, crime. One of them must have killed ‘im, I’d stake my entire reputation on it!”
Said the awkward, faceless cop.
Ramirez’s blank expression was replaced with a powerful combination of anger and disbelief.
“You were hired yesterday, your reputation literally could not exist less than it does right now. You’ve put absolutely nothing on the line and… you know what? I take it back. You’re the ****ing ****** who thought rounding up four people made you super-cop. That’s your reputation, enjoy.”
Oh get TOLD. This isn’t so bad after all!
Ramirez peered through the glass at the suspects, watched them fidget as they subconsciously knew he was staring intently at them. It wasn’t difficult to tell they were all innocent. Their killer would never be apprehended so easily, not with the painstaking effort he put into his crime scene. Besides, none of these suspects had that killer vibe to them that he had learned to sense in his years on the force. These people were in the wrong place at the wrong time, nothing more, but he had to investigate them none the less.
The system works again.
“Ah, ah I’m uh, really sorry sir! It won’t happen again, promise!”
The new guy turned to leave the room, but paused when he reached the door.
“ …say, haven’t I seen you on TV or something before?”
“Kid, I’m the head of the largest police department in Mexico. I may have had a run-in with the media a few times. Of ****ing COURSE you’ve seen me on TV. Is everyone this dense up in the States? Just…just leave. Before I have to turn myself in for your murder, preferably.”
I left off the “said Officer Ramirez” stuff because I hate writing those. If you can’t tell who’s who, get your head out of your ***. There’s only two characters so far.
Ramirez chuckled to himself as the newbie scurried off on the brink of tears. If that didn’t teach the punk to respect the chain of command, nothing would. With a reluctant sigh, he turned his attention back to the problem at hand. Last night back an old man was found murdered in his mansion, beaten to death with a blunt object. Early forensics had turned up absolutely no leads, no DNA, no prints, nothing. All they had to go on was a few witness statements from the day before, saying that the four people currently fidgeting under Ramirez’s stare were on location. The first, a young woman…
You know what, screw it. The suspects are now characters from the board game Clue. I HAVE SPOKEN.
The first (Vivienne Scarlet), a young woman wearing a stunning red dress, was the old man’s mistress. His wife (one of the key witnesses in the case) told investigators that this young woman would often visit her husband for long games of chess in the bedroom. She never actually walked in on their game, because she was afraid of the screams of “mental frustration” that both parties seemed to be exerting, particularly as the game went on.
That sounds made up, but that is LITERALLY in the case file. Sounds like his wife may have left him high and dry both sexually and mentally if it got to this point.
Surprisingly, Miss Scarlet has been fully cooperative with the police investigation. She admitted to sleeping with the old man, answered all questions posed to her, and even helped them get a better layout of the mansion, though she really only seemed to know the way to the bedroom.
As it should be with every woman! Am I right, fellas?!
She told investigators that the victim had been supporting her financially in return for their “chess matches”, and she was probably going to be homeless within the month without him. When his will was reviewed, there is no mention of her, nor did she appear in any of the drafts.
“No motive. He was the only thing keeping this girl going, she wouldn’t off him out of nowhere like this. Besides, she looks like she could lift a paper bag full of packing peanuts, much less beat a man to death.” mused Ramirez.
He moved her file off to the side, he had all the evidence he needed to clear Miss Scarlet.
Miss Scarlet did it in the bedroom with the low self-esteem.
The second file, a Mr. John Green, seemed to be a much more likely candidate. He already had built up a long criminal record for numerous thefts and grifting operations, and was actually apprehended while he was robbing the old man. We were lucky to catch him, had the murder report not come in when it did he would have made off with nearly everything that man had.
“He’s a better fit than Scarlet, but no record of assault, much less murder… I doubt he would have had the stomach for it.” Ramirez pushed that file aside as well.
Reading is for squares, let’s do something else now Ramirez.
Bored with reading, as such an activity is for squares, Ramirez decided to pack up the last two files and head down to the actual crime scene, a much more exciting place to be. The forensics team was still scouring the area hoping to turn up some crucial piece of evidence. Ramirez blew past the yellow tape, briefly flashing his badge to gain entry. Before terribly long, Ramirez found himself standing over a large pool of dried blood. This was where the old man had died, confused and alone. Ramirez found himself scanning the room for hints towards the killer’s identity, hints he knew he’d never find. His forensics team didn’t miss much, and he certainly didn’t think himself better than their combined efforts. And still, precaution bade him to look around. He wandered the mansion, searching every room for something, anything that would break this case. This continued until he reached the parlor, a magnificent room that seemed to beckon to Ramirez. He figured this was as good a place as any to take a look at those last two files.
Back on that reading thing already are you?! Fine. See what I care.
He laid both files down on a large desk and sat in a surprisingly comfortable chair. He opened up the third file, which was on Professor Peter Plum. Plum had been serving as an advisor of sorts to the victim at the time of his death, helping to expand his vast collection of oddities. Plum’s previous experience as a museum curator made him the ideal fit for such a job, but unfortunately did not make him a murderer. Ramirez looked at the fourth file, knowing that if this didn’t contain a likely suspect then it’d be his own *** on the line. He needed a scapegoat that fit the crime, and none of these other three would be believable enough to take the fall.
Oh **** what’s this? Ramirez isn’t such a nice guy after all?
He breathed in heavily, and opened the file.
“Officer Ramirez. Good to see you again, sir.”
The sudden appearance of the bumbling cop from earlier took Ramirez off guard, causing him to jump in his seat. There was something different about this scared newbie now though, his eyes were set firmly on Ramirez and there was no hint of uncertainty in his stare.
“We found the murder weapon, sir. Care to take a look at it?” Ramirez’s brow began to sweat as his “friend” slammed a blood spattered baseball bat down on the desk.
“You know, I finally remember where I know y-“
Ramirez cut his sentence short with a power crack to the jaw from the bat. The cop was sent reeling backwards, falling hard on his back. Ramirez stood over him and readied the bat for another strike.
Oh hell YES. See this is infinitely better than the report these jerks gave me to start off with.
The bumbling cop tried to get one last sentence in before the bat could land.
“So… so it turns out… its Man-
“Ramirez cut him off yet again with a sickening strike to the cop’s face, leaving the new cop’s face mangled and broken.
“That’s right, kid.”
“Manny Ramirez.”
Now, was the murderer really MLB “great” Manny Ramirez? Probably not, I mean I think he’s still in the states somewhere, and probably not the head of a police force in Mexico. Shouldn’t they be speaking Spanish in the largest police force in Mexico? Maybe, who’s to say? You? Well I didn’t realize you were such an expert on the field, if you’d like to re-write all the dialog in Spanish please go right ahead and fix that. Otherwise shut up and deal with how I did things.
In summary, **** this place, I hope you all get sued for this file. Have a great day!
? Time to fix that.
.