We needed to get into town to pick up supplies, so we got in the boat and headed for the mainland.
It was a calm day, so we fired up the motor, despite manatee safety restrictions in the area.
Sure enough, we heard a loud WHUMP! and we fell to the deck.
I lost my sunglasses in the water. Damn.
Oh well.
I looked to see what we’d hit.
A dead manatee, floating on the surface.
“What wine goes with manatee?” I asked.
The captain grinned and pulled out a bottle. “This.”
We hauled it aboard and dashed back home.
Tag: crime
Itchy Trigger Finger
Stone Ridge needed a doctor, so I hopped on the first train out.
When I arrived, sheriff welcomed me, pointed out some sights, and warned me about Bobcat Murphy: “He’s got an itchy trigger finger.”
Oh. Good.
A client.
I grabbed my bag and headed to the Murphy Ranch.
Bobcat put a gun to my head and said “What do you want, stranger?”
“Doctor,” I said. “Doctor Roberts, and I have a cream for your itch.”
Bobcat sighed. “Great,” he said. He put down the gun and dropped his pants.
Curing his jock itch cured the itchy trigger finger, too.
The Lists
When it comes to paperwork, we have things down to a science here at the prison.
(We certainly get enough practice at it these days. Stupid food riots and rebellion!)
Every morning, the king sends down a list of executions.
Then, in the evening, he sends down a list of pardons.
However, after releasing a bunch of people last night, we got an identical list of names this morning.
“Wasn’t that the list from last night?” I asked.
The messenger checks.
“Uh oh,” he says. “I’d better fix this.”
He adds my name.
“We’ll just say it was your fault!”
Blind Justice
Maybe back in the days of the Ancients, Perseus would have cut off a Gorgon’s head and bagged it, but today we’ve got a little something called The Law.
And nobody’s actually passed a law against petrification besides First Degree Assault By Witchcraft.
Lawyers say it’s not like she’s killed anyone. Just turned them to stone, that’s all.
“If there’s a magical curse of the Gods that petrifies people, then there’s probably a blessing that depetrifies them.”
We send in the robots, fire up the speakers, read her rights to her, and she asks for an attorney.
A blind attorney.
Missing
The disappearance of Mindy Murphy took the town by surprise, shocking everyone how such a horrible thing could happen there.
However, when Mr. Murphy started putting posters up all over town with HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL? and her picture on them, there were voices of protest.
“We know you’re worried about your girl and such,” said the mayor. “But let’s face it: she wasn’t the prettiest girl around. And that’s not one of her better pictures.”
The town was relieved when another, better-looking kid got kidnapped. Milk sales returned to normal. Heck, the kid was so good-looking, they doubled.
The Well Of Apology
Every April, the thieves in the town jail are chained together and dragged to The Well Of Apology.
One by one, the thieves are handed a knife, and they are forced to slash their palms and drip blood into the well.
Then, they are unchained, and released.
Any thief who is caught red-handed is beheaded at the well, their head falling into its depths.
Some say that when you cut your palms over the well, the dead whisper up to their friends.
Maybe it’s just the wind, the rattle of the chain.
Have you noticed, the mayor always wears gloves?
Smash And Grab
My car was broken into.
Someone smashed the window and grabbed my backgammon set.
Why? It was only ten bucks at Wal-Mart. And they left my GPS, which is worth way more.
I mean, I understand leaving the radio. That’s bolted, secured, and a pain to steal. But taking a cheap backgammon case? Crazy.
The insurance company wants a police report. The police are busy and say “Use the app.”
I snap some photos, tap in a form, and email them.
A repair truck is dispatched. They fix the window and hand me a receipt.
I play backgammon online now.
Come Out Swinging
I once knew a judge who was sick and tired of his rulings getting appealed.
So, every time a court overturned one of his rulings, he’d drive to that judge’s house and punch them in the face.
Still the appeals kept coming, so he changed tactics: when someone appealed his rulings, he’d drive to their house and punch them in the face.
These days, he strides into the courtroom, wearing his black robe like a boxer’s, preferring black trunks with black boots and gloves.
He smacks the gavel against the bell, comes out swinging, and the litigants run for cover.
Turning Evil
The Black Rhinoceros recently became extinct.
Poachers hunted the species to extinction because traditional Chinese medicine says their pulverized horns are used for banishing demons.
Many other species are also being hunted to extinction because of similar bogus medical practices.
Since fining poachers and impounding poached material hasn’t worked, I proposed a new solution:
A new branch of quack medicine where the dried and powdered hearts of poachers made for an anti-aging powder.
As for the Chinese medicine practitioners, their pituitary glands make for excellent protection from income tax audits.
When you can’t defeat evil alone, turn evil on itself.
Milk Street
At the corner of Milk Street and Cookie Avenue, I’d like to build an old-fashioned shop selling cookies.
Kids could come there after school, buy cookies, and dip them in milk while doing homework.
Parents from the community could act as tutors or babysitters.
Instead, there’s a crackhouse.
Sure, there’s kids there, but they’re not doing their homework. They’re acting as lookouts for cops or rival gangs.
I pull up with my milk truck, get out, and walk up to the door.
I pick up the empty milk bottles, put down fresh, and knock.
At least they pay in cash.