Hope everyone had a good and safe weekend, obviously not so great for the thousands of displaced families from New Orleans but hopefully it can only get better. Life continues...shitty as it can be sometimes.
In case you have no idea what I'm talking about...read THIS. I posted it a few days ago after I came back from doing some field work on a murder case I was working. Read the first part then come back and continue the story.
Alrighty, so Neighbor X (I will now refer to him as MR. X) has let me into his home and I'm sitting on his funky couch. He asks me if I'm thirsty, and I tell him, "no thanks, I'm fine." Seeing as it's a warm day outside he presses the issue and says he's going to get me some ice cold water anyway. I told him I appreciated it, and he waddles off into his kitchen. PDI NOTE: I never accept food or drink in a witnesses home. Not only for reasons that will soon become apparent but also because I don't want to impose upon them to have to treat me to anything. Sometimes our witnesses don't have very much and I don't want to take anything away from them. I accepted this time because I knew he wouldn't stop offering and I was becoming thirsty just thinking about it.
The first thing I really noticed about MR. X and his house was how bad he and his house smelled. The house was in really, really good shape with a ton of books in bookshelves, a big fancy television, some great bottle of wine in a wine fridge, lot's of family photos, I would consider him upper-middle class. If you were a person with absolutely no sense of smell, you would have thought, "Gee, what a great house, I'll bet this guy really has his shit together!"
The problem was, the house smelled like shit. It smelled like someone took a dump somewhere in the room every day of the week, swept it under the couch, and left it there. The more I thought about it the worse it got. I was almost gagging before MR. X came back outta the kitchen with my bottled water. I controlled the gagging, put on my I'm here on serious business face, and explained why I was there.
I told MR. X I was at his house because of the murders that had occurred next door (and in part of his backyard) a few months ago. He told me he knew that's why I was there and he was ready to talk to me.
But first, he had to make an important phone call.
I told him, "sure, no problem!" He waddled over into another room,and I heard him pick up the phone and start talking to someone. Meanwhile, I made sure I had the portions of the police report that I wanted to go over with him ready to pull out and sat down on the funky couch, waiting patiently for MR. X to get off the phone.
Well, not that patiently.
In case you have no idea what I'm talking about...read THIS. I posted it a few days ago after I came back from doing some field work on a murder case I was working. Read the first part then come back and continue the story.
Alrighty, so Neighbor X (I will now refer to him as MR. X) has let me into his home and I'm sitting on his funky couch. He asks me if I'm thirsty, and I tell him, "no thanks, I'm fine." Seeing as it's a warm day outside he presses the issue and says he's going to get me some ice cold water anyway. I told him I appreciated it, and he waddles off into his kitchen. PDI NOTE: I never accept food or drink in a witnesses home. Not only for reasons that will soon become apparent but also because I don't want to impose upon them to have to treat me to anything. Sometimes our witnesses don't have very much and I don't want to take anything away from them. I accepted this time because I knew he wouldn't stop offering and I was becoming thirsty just thinking about it.
The first thing I really noticed about MR. X and his house was how bad he and his house smelled. The house was in really, really good shape with a ton of books in bookshelves, a big fancy television, some great bottle of wine in a wine fridge, lot's of family photos, I would consider him upper-middle class. If you were a person with absolutely no sense of smell, you would have thought, "Gee, what a great house, I'll bet this guy really has his shit together!"
The problem was, the house smelled like shit. It smelled like someone took a dump somewhere in the room every day of the week, swept it under the couch, and left it there. The more I thought about it the worse it got. I was almost gagging before MR. X came back outta the kitchen with my bottled water. I controlled the gagging, put on my I'm here on serious business face, and explained why I was there.
I told MR. X I was at his house because of the murders that had occurred next door (and in part of his backyard) a few months ago. He told me he knew that's why I was there and he was ready to talk to me.
But first, he had to make an important phone call.
I told him, "sure, no problem!" He waddled over into another room,and I heard him pick up the phone and start talking to someone. Meanwhile, I made sure I had the portions of the police report that I wanted to go over with him ready to pull out and sat down on the funky couch, waiting patiently for MR. X to get off the phone.
Well, not that patiently.
I got up to look at some of the photographs on his wall, while drinking my bottled water (which was nice, cold, and quite refreshing) and I noticed that X had a lot of photographs, and when I say "a lot" I mean he had a shitload of photographs. All of them in nice little frames on the wall. I wish I was that organized! All my photos are in boxes or pieced together albums.
Oh that's weird, that's really weird. This guy has tons of photographs but apparently no family photographs. All the photographs appear to be taken at events or business meetings, he even had some which looked to be when he was a member of the armed services.
Something wasn't quite right about the photographs though. What was it? Oh, maybe that's it...HIS FACE LOOKED THE SAME IN ALL OF THEM!
Someone's face should look the same in all their photos right? Well, I mean that his face was quite literally the same in every photograph. He had pasted his face onto everyone of the photographs...100's of photos and he was in all of them, with this weird creep smile (this was probably his normal, nice smile...but at that time I just thought it was plain old creepy). He was with all sorts of famous people, some were of his face with former President Clinton and Carter, bunch of sports stars, a few celebrities and the rest I had no idea who they were.
As I was looking at the photographs, MR. X unexpectedly came in from the other room where he was on the phone, sees me looking at his photo wall and he says, "Oh, see anyone you recognize?" I told him I did, but I was really pressed for time and I just wanted to ask him about the murder next door. He said,"Oh, yeah sure. I just received authorization to speak with you."
Authorization? I don't understand, from who? MR. X sat down on the funky couch and says, "I received authorization from my controller, I work for the government." I sat on the couch sipping the bottled water and said, "Oooookay."
Oh crap. This guy is as nutty as a fruit cake.
Oh crap, I just realized that while he was on the phone talking to his "controller" that he got out of his pants and is now sitting on the couch in a dress shirt and dirty, faded blue boxer shorts.
Oh crap. In my hand, I'm holding the plastic screw cap to a Sprite soda bottle. The water bottle I'm drinking from is NOT a Sprite soda.
Oh crap. I'm drinking from a water bottle that this fruit cake just refilled with his OWN PERSONAL WATER!!!
Oh crap. I love this job, just not right at this very moment.
More later...
Something wasn't quite right about the photographs though. What was it? Oh, maybe that's it...HIS FACE LOOKED THE SAME IN ALL OF THEM!
Someone's face should look the same in all their photos right? Well, I mean that his face was quite literally the same in every photograph. He had pasted his face onto everyone of the photographs...100's of photos and he was in all of them, with this weird creep smile (this was probably his normal, nice smile...but at that time I just thought it was plain old creepy). He was with all sorts of famous people, some were of his face with former President Clinton and Carter, bunch of sports stars, a few celebrities and the rest I had no idea who they were.
As I was looking at the photographs, MR. X unexpectedly came in from the other room where he was on the phone, sees me looking at his photo wall and he says, "Oh, see anyone you recognize?" I told him I did, but I was really pressed for time and I just wanted to ask him about the murder next door. He said,"Oh, yeah sure. I just received authorization to speak with you."
Authorization? I don't understand, from who? MR. X sat down on the funky couch and says, "I received authorization from my controller, I work for the government." I sat on the couch sipping the bottled water and said, "Oooookay."
Oh crap. This guy is as nutty as a fruit cake.
Oh crap, I just realized that while he was on the phone talking to his "controller" that he got out of his pants and is now sitting on the couch in a dress shirt and dirty, faded blue boxer shorts.
Oh crap. In my hand, I'm holding the plastic screw cap to a Sprite soda bottle. The water bottle I'm drinking from is NOT a Sprite soda.
Oh crap. I'm drinking from a water bottle that this fruit cake just refilled with his OWN PERSONAL WATER!!!
Oh crap. I love this job, just not right at this very moment.
More later...
3 comments:
Quit leaving us hanging already. This isn't a weekly sitcom...Or is it?
I'd do it all in one shot but it would be the longest post ever and I'm still working on figuring out how to do "Click Here for More" webpages on blogger. Sorry bout keeping you hanging though...time restraints are a bitch. I actually was going to originally post this on Sunday and finish it today but as you can see this is all I have. I apologize but promise to finish the story in my next post!
woohoo. I like where this is going. :D
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