Wednesday, May 29, 2013

"The Return of Daisy Duke: The Case of the Shoebox Corpse!" Part 2

This is Daisy Duke, reporting live from KHEL. I'm standing outside the Cicada Seasons Hotel waiting to interview one of ten ex-wives of the late shoe magnet, Mr. Fanard T. Clegs. As our TV audience may or may not remember, five months ago Mr. Clegs' body was found in a shoe box the size of a small galley kitchen. The cause of death was suffocation due to being crushed. In fact, a great number of cardboard pieces were found embedded in the man's mouth, nose, eyes, forehead and brain. What was left of them, that is. The shoe box lid, of course, was totally destroyed. Interestingly enough, forensic examiners also discovered epithelial cells belonging to a pachyderm type animal on Mr. Cleg's body, leading me to believe that it was probably an elephant who was coaxed, or trained to step on the shoe box while Mr. Clegs was inside. And possibly still alive. This is certainly the most bizarre murder I have ever encountered.

I've always been curious as to why it took police so long to find out who actually commissioned the shoe box to be built. Which brings us back to the Cicada Seasons Hotel. It was actually Mr. Cleg's seventh wife, Rhonda Tugs, who put in the order. The police questioned Mrs. Tugs extensively last night, but she walked out of the police station with her attorney this morning, a free woman. I did some checking on Mrs. Tugs, and she is now the wife of the wealthy fantasy broker, Minnow G. Tugs. Stay tuned for my interview with Mrs. Tugs after the station break. Back to you, Bonnie and Clyde.

"Ok, PEOPLE, where is makeup. I'm literally melting out here! And my face itches like hell!"

"Daisy, we don't know where makeup is. Did you bring your own?"

"Did I WHAT? Screw you, Dave. GO FIND MAKEUP! NOW."

"Ok, ok, Daisy. Calm down. I sent Roland to find the girl. He'll be back any minute."

"I don't have a minute, shithea— "Yoohoo, oh Mrs. Tugs? . . . Mrs. Tugs? I am Daisy Duke with—"

"I know who you are, Ms. Duke, and I have no comment. Please leave me the hell alone!"

"Mrs. Tugs is it true you hired a shoe salesman to build the shoe box that ultimately killed your ex-husband? You were also spotted at the circus two days before your husband was killed. What do you have to say about all this? . . . . Please Mrs. Tugs, the people want to know—" OH MY GO—N-!!!"

* * *

"Tranny, what does OH MY GO—N- mean?"

"I think it means we just lost our star reporter again . . . at least for awhile."

"Well, she did say she was melting, Tranny. And I really meant to send Roland out to find the makeup gal. I just forgot."

"Yeah, wasn't your fault, Dave. If she hadn't been so determined Mrs. Tugs was the murderer, she wouldn't have melted like Frosty the Snowman sunbathing in the Bahamas. I also think she would've seen all the cables strewn pretty much everywhere."

"Ah well, don't think she'll need makeup for a long time, Tranny. What do we do, now? I'm thinking she can still do field work even if she has to undergo facial reconstruction."

"Who'd a thunk a fall like that would be so devastating, Dave."

"Face plants can be downright scary."

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you, Dave? Did the memo about WitLiz Yada's impending arrest for the murder of Clegs get to Daisy?"

"They're arresting WitLiz Yada? Are you sure about that, Tranny? I thought she had an alibi."

"She did, until the police discovered she checked herself out AMA from Green Acres Happy Farm the day of the murder. And her fingerprints are all over what's left of the box."

"Oh wow! Yes, Daisy read the memo, Tranny. I was at her desk when she got it . . . You know she did sort get this mustardy tint to her face before she snorted and crushed the memo. But I didn't say a word because she would've clawed my eyes out and used them to play bingo! She loves that damn game."

"Yep. Well, let's get on over to the hospital, Dave. Tell her she still has a job, because I have a hunch WitLiz Yada didn't commit this murder. She's way too nutzo balls. Added to the fact she never knew the guy."

"How do you think her fingerprints got all over the box then, Tranny?"

"Don't know. But if Daisy ever thought WitLiz Yada had committed the murder she'd a been all over that. Daisy hates that woman with a passion!"

"Uh huh. You know Tranny, I think it's kinda sexxxxy when Daisy hates something!"

"If you like your ass being slashed apart by verbal razors on a daily basis, then yeah, a case could be made for kinky! "

"Wellll, appears her mouth won't be a problem anymore, Tranny."

"Says who? The woman has remarkable healing powers. Remember the time she fell into that toxic waste swamp? And the time her body gave new meaning to the words, skin peel?"

"Holy cow I'd forgotten all about that, Tranny . . . Uh oh, my phone's vibrating. Better take this call . . . it's from the hospital. "Yeah . . .  No shit!. . . I'll tell him . . . Thanks." Ok, Daisy is MIA. But it turns out most of the damage to her face was caused by some kind of toxin in the makeup. She went bonkers when she found out. Got to find that make up girl or else—"

"We need to get on the first plane to anywhere, Dave."

"And hope it crashes!"