D: Tonight’s blog post has been postponed due to . . . traffic.
You see, our regularly scheduled performance was hindered by A’s inability to find a yellow apartment block. On Grayden. Numbers, unknown.
Because TC is a boy. And boys give funny directions.
A is a girl. Girls also give funny directions.
A also gets lost crossing the street.
TC therefore, rests his case.
I, Dubh an Súile mac Alasdair, the not-so-impartial judge, think we should adjourn and begin a Wednesday tradition: Story Time. Before you is exhibit A:
“Pandas are known for their ruthlessness, Luke.”
“Heddy, you know that’s not what this was.”
Dr. Heddy Lamar’s aversion to the PANDAS unit was well known in Z Group. I hated to contradict her – she’s a brilliant investigative scientist – but the slaughter before us just did not carry the hallmarks of the famous man-made assassin.
“Oh? I do? How do I know that, Doctor?”
Oh boy. Doctor. She was mad. I had heard that tone before.
Of course, before it just meant I wasn’t getting laid. Now, it meant that a man’s murder might go unsolved.
“Look at his hands, Heddy—I mean Dr. Lamar.” Damn, that glare had not gotten any less vicious. But, she did look good.
“That’s blood under his nails. Unless Lepetomane Corp has developed PANDAS that bleed, we’re looking for a human.”
“That could be Newman’s blood, Luke.”
“It could, but I’m willing to bet a million space bucks that it’s not.”
Heddy just rolled her eyes at me. “Frank—“
“That’s Fraunk, Dr. Lamar. It’s an old family name,” Heddy’s young assistant managed to squeak, despite the furious stare she turned on him.
Good for him.
“Fraunk. Take charge of the clean up, and make sure that Mr. Bialystock is on ice before noon. He’s starting to stink.”
Starting? I’m pretty sure Bialystock had stunk well before someone had taken the broken chair leg to his skull. The final insult had been the blue blanket tied around what was left of his neck.
“Dr. Lamar, look at this!”
“Fraunk, Ma’am. It’s the news. They’re saying a homicidal panda from Lepetomane Corp got loose.”
“See, I told you.
“No, Ma’am. A real panda.”
“But those – those haven’t been seen for nearly one hundred years.”
“I guess they had one in bowels of the research division. It got loose – went on a killing spree, they say.”
I looked again at the mangled body of the famous producer. “But . . . but this is rather, I don’t know, specific, Fraunk.”
“Just listen, Dr. Lonester.”
Perhaps for the first time in the bespeckled boy’s life, the entire room obeyed his command.
“Representatives from Lepetomane Corp say that the panda had been forced to watch movie after movie – comedy after comedy.”
The announcer looked up at her cameraman. “Really?” she muttered. “Genome sequencing? With Comedy? Fine, I’ll read it, but they have got to up my pay-grade for this.”
I turned back to Heddy. Her face was crimson.
“Well, sweet-cheeks, you were right.”
“Sweet cheeks! Why you—“
“What? It was a panda, darlin.’ Now, what do you say, we head over to the End of the Universe and grab ourselves the Special?”
There was the edge of a smile at her lips.
“Go on, Dr. Lamar. I’ve got it here.”
I silently blessed young Dr. Fraunk. Heddy’s smile still made my insides weak. Who cared if the Special was guaranteed heartburn – sometimes, it was more than worth it.
At 500 words exactly, D and I present our response to Papi Z’s Prompt: “Pandas are known for their ruthlessness.”
How many Mel Brooks films has Dom De Louise had a credited roll in?