I woke up to the smell of cold asphalt on the burning road to a level 9 mysterious stranger. Immediately I checked for my wallet, coat, and my trusty badge. The night danced like a damsel in dim-lit, broken-backed ballet class. Reached my revolver; I've got 5 shots and a bourbon. All loaded - it's gonna be a fun night..
hair.. not the nail
The evidence left at the crime scene looked like a wedding rehearsal gone wrong. With the fresh scent of blood mixed with pasta, the murder, another Italian meal. I took out my sixty eight and began scribbling down whatever evidence I could look for. The now newly-widowed ex-bridge was shaking like a the salsa dance I saw in a cheap TV program. Then I caught it..
the look on her face - priceless
Like a kid caught red-handed with the cookie jar, her face flushed as red as her dress. She was about to confess but she started sobbing. I took a light, waiting for her to chill off. There's something strange about the beauty of the night during a murder; a sleeping hallow of black and white with only the visible color red - blood red. I looked over the evidence..
more laksa than a golden retriever
The evidence points its cold-dead finger at the few suspects that we found. Unfortunately for the groom, smartly dressed for a dead guy, all of them had an sweet alibi and they singing it to the tunes of a Fallout original. "They don't want to set the world on fire"? The thought of it cracks me up. I did what I could to break 'em with every rule on the book..
Finally, they smiled at me. Something was not right. I must've missed something along the way; a clue, a description. Something important was missing that would fit the puzzle better than an old collection of PG165s or that 10th Anniversary magazine I found on my desk this afternoon. The only male suspect, reached into his coat. I loaded my 12 gauge boom-stick. He pulls out a folded note and his head was still intact - I released the pressure from my trigger finger. Slowly, he unfolded the note and it said..
CG was fun! Nite guys! heh~
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