Thursday, June 16, 2005
Captain Max of the Metaphysical Murder Commission was investigating the crime scene. The tearful girl who had called him was quite beside herself. "My dolly's been murdered. Can you help?"
"Was the murder metaphysical?" his standard response ran.
"Yes, I think so," she sniffed, going from crying to confused.
Via psychic metalink to the cell phone built into everyone's brain these days it was an easy matter for Max to press forward into the murderer's thoughts, while enjoying an Irish coffee at his desk. At the scene of the crime Max examined the jumbled thoughts closely. Yes, he'd seen this hundreds of times before. He doublechecked in his Handbook of Dream Symbology - standard department issue - just to be sure. The mutilated doll was a poignant sight for his hard-boiled eyes, especially since he'd felt like twisting one apart himself on more than one occasion. He kept that detail out of his report, though. The tie lying underneath, now that was obvious. And the die, well, love is a risky business, when you're just starting out. When the girl stopped by to see Max, he knew just what to say.
"You've grown up, haven't you?"
"What do you mean?" she coyed.
"You've kissed a boy."
The girl blushed. The kiss had definitely happened.
Max poured on all the charm he could muster. This was, after all, a girl who kissed. "Look, I know what happened. You're not a little girl anymore. You've discovered boys in such a whirlwind manner that your toys, well, they just self destructed."
Note from Indeterminacy: Thanks to Ariel for donating the photo!