Have you ever been watching one of those true crime shows on television and wondered what you would do if you accidentally came across a crime scene in your house – you know, like a random murder – and you thought you might be accused of committing the murder? Like, say you woke up and came downstairs and there was a dead body in your living room.
Okay, if you were watching a movie there would probably be a best friend or someone present and the protagonist would say “Oh! We have to call 911!” and then the friend would say, “No, wait! We are the only people here! They will never believe we didn’t do this!” and we would all be screaming from our sofas, “You morons! Just call the police!”
But then they wouldn’t and there would be many, many misunderstandings and then, if the protagonist was Harrison Ford, he would prove to Tommy Lee Jones that the bad guy was really his best friend who was trying to guarantee himself massive pharmaceutical-based funding for his new drug trials and everything would be okay.
But that doesn’t happen all the time.
So, again, I ask you; if you woke up and came downstairs and found a crime scene in your living room, would you automatically call 911?
Let’s think this through.
Do you have an alibi for the time that the murder was committed?
Of course you do. You were upstairs asleep all night long.
Did anyone see you?
No. You were alone.
Well, maybe you could convince the officer based on what was going on just before you fell asleep.
Yes! You were watching television.
Clearly the officer would totally accept it as an alibi that you were watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills because you would be able to provide a detailed explanation of the scene where Brandi once again drinks too much and slurily explains that she absolutely can’t call one woman by her real name (which is Joyce (Brandi keeps mistakenly calling her ‘Jacklyn’)) because ‘Joyce is a big fat pig!’.
Who would know that if they weren’t up late watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills? That’s embarrassing just on the face of it. And, if I was going to make up a television-show based alibi, I would probably pick something that made me sound smarter and more likely to throw them off my scent – like Dexter.
Seriously. Every other murderer would never pick Dexter because that would make it seem like they identified with murder. Not me though, I would assume that the police would think, “What moron would admit to watching Dexter when they’ve just committed a murder?”
Me. That’s what moron.
I am just that crafty.
Anyway, without an alibi, it might not make sense to call 911 right away unless you are O.J. Simpson and have that dream legal team to get you off. And even then you are probably going to be brought up on kidnapping charges later anyway, so even if you are OJ Simpson, you might not want to call 911 right away.
By now, you might be wondering why I am asking you about alibis and calling 911 in case you come downstairs and yourself in the center of a crime scene.
It has happened to me and I don’t know what to do.
Today I came downstairs, walked into the pantry, grabbed my coffee.
I sleepily made my way to the fridge, put cream in my coffee and took my first sip.
That’s when I saw it.
Here, let me take a picture for you (warning: some of what you are about to see might be disturbing to some viewers).
I wasn’t sure what it was, so I circled around for a better view.
That’s when I recognized it.
And I got that creepy feeling you get when you realize something is wrong.
Very, very wrong.
I hate to share the rest of these photos with you, but I think you need to see them. I’m sorry if you’re queasy. It just has to be this way.
This is the next thing I saw as I made my way around the kitchen island.
Okay. Take a breath.
No one likes to see someones insides.
My stomach dropped when I saw that.
Also, clearly the rug is ruined.
I steeled myself for what was coming.
You’re stomach must be heaving! I’m so sorry!
And now you can see why I can’t call 911!
Look at him! Marshal Dillon Dingle is right there, just flaunting his dastardly deed!
And even through the haze of wrong, I knew that I had to protect him. He is practically my child! It’s all my fault! Oh, what should I have done differently in raising him? What signs did I miss?
And even as I tortured myself with these questions, I thought there might be hope.
There was no body!
I’ve been watching Discovery Channel I.D. for years. Without a body, it is very difficult to prove First Degree Murder…. I had hope.
For about eight seconds I had hope.
Until I took a step backward.
Poor, poor Mike.
Okay, look, get ahold of yourself.
He’s gone! There’s nothing we can do about that now!
Can you grab a couple of big garbage bags? Maybe some tape. Uh…and bring gloves too.
The carpet’s ruined anyway, we can roll him up in it.
Look, what’s done is done. We’re in this together now.
I go down, you go down.
Let’s do this.
For Marshal Dillon Dingle.
Thanks for readin’.
R.I.P. Stuffed Mike Wazowski (Dec. 25, 2013 – Dec. 29, 2013)
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