BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Some of you may remember me reporting on the graphic and horrendous Barbie Murders some time back. Actually, it was a Ken murder, but Barbie was a person of interest in the investigation. If you missed it, here is a link to help you get caught up:

Barbie Murders Part 1 (aka – Solving Murders At Home… August, 27 2008)

Well, anyway, after next to no media attention whatsoever (due to the election, I assume) and a low budget investigation (read: me, a scratched magnifying glass, and a couple of notes scribbled in crayon) I think there has been a break in the case.

Actually, this all happened quite by accident, as many breaks in cases do. No one called to rat out Babs or anything, but let’s just say I happened to be in the right place at the right time.

You see, at 5:07 AM, Friday, November 14, 2008, I was roused from my slumber by an intense feeling. A feeling that was demanding in no uncertain terms my immediate and undivided attention. At first my heart began to race as adrenalin dumped into my system, but within a matter of seconds it became apparent that the sensation was, in fact, my bladder telling me to get to the bathroom post haste. (Hey, I never said there was anything supernatural about the sensation.)

So, anyway, I dragged myself from beneath the covers and stumbled down the stairs. A quick detour allowed me to go ahead and flip the switch on the coffee pot in the kitchen before backtracking and hitting the bathroom. After “taking care of business” I set about washing my hands and happened to notice something from the corner of my eye. Being the highly trained investigator that I am, I finished with my sanitizing operation then dried my digits, lest any moisture on my hands destroy or contaminate evidence.

As I had done weeks before, I pulled back the shower curtain. I had to stare for a while, and even squint a bit, as I was doing all this sans glasses (or even scratched magnifying glass for that matter)…

What I saw was so damning that I felt the need to go get my glasses just to be sure I was making no mistakes.

After obtaining my spectacles I returned to the scene, magnifying glass and crayon in hand. My corrected vision served only to show me what I had thought I had seen to begin with.

Ken, still extremely corpsified, now had his little plastic head jammed firmly back onto his shoulders. So firmly in fact that he really no longer had a neck. But, since he’s dead I don’t suppose he really needs one, so I guess it is a moot point… However, I digress… So, Ken – all dead and stuff – was now sprawled face down on the tile with a “Hello Kitty” washcloth draped over his rigid body. (I assume the coroner was out of sheets and body bags, and therefore just used the first available thing.)

Now, this was interesting enough in itself. I mean, weeks have passed and the body still hadn’t been moved, not to mention the reattachment of the head. But the primary reason I had rushed for my glasses was what I had seen sitting mere inches from lifeless corpse of the victim. You see, initially I had thought I might be suffering from double vision, for no longer was there simply Babs sitting there looking upon Dead Ken with a look of satisfaction. There were now two Barbies hanging out at the crime scene. What was worse is that they were both wearing the same sparkly blue bathing suit.

Upon bespectacled inspection, however, I discovered that the newcomer was a redhead, whereas Babs from the original scene was a brunette. And there they were… Both of them. But, that’s not all…dare I say it…yes, I dare. You see, they were just a bit entangled with one another, if you know what I mean…

At this juncture, the prevailing theory is that Babs got tired of Ken the Eunuch and decided to explore her wild side, thereby hooking up with Evil Redheaded Babs at a local bar. Before long it simply became a classic love triangle…and, well…we all know what can happen with those. Redheaded Babs, what with redheads being evil and all, likely convinced her new found love that it would be a good idea to be rid of Ken the Eunuch once and for all… And there you have it. A crime of passion. Pretty Poison all rolled into a redhead and a brunette.

Babs-B and her girlfriend Babs-R have now been detained for questioning. I had to borrow handcuffs from the Miranda action figure on my desk, but I don’t think she’ll miss them. She had plenty. Right now the two detainees aren’t saying much, but they do keep smiling an awful lot. Just can’t seem to wipe the smirks off their perfect little faces.

Funeral arrangements for Ken are on hold until someone claims the body. I get the feeling we could be waiting quite a while…

More to come…

Murv

I had pie this weekend. In fact, I had some seriously kick-a$$ pie this weekend.

Now, in case you are running to check your calendars, no, this was not “Pie Weekend” as designated by the TV Food Network, or even by me for that matter. I just happened to have some pie this weekend. Seriously kick-a$$ pie in case you didn’t catch that the first go around.

However, I suppose I should back up and flesh out the story a bit so that you don’t think I am merely bragging on the fact that I had some kick-a$$ pie this weekend. In point of fact, that is exactly what I am doing, but since I get paid to make up lies – hence the job title “Author” – I shall proceed to toss random words at this blog until I have obscured the fact that I am merely bragging on the pie. Rest assured, that if subliminal suggestion works as it should, while you will come away from this blog thinking it was about something else, you will definitely remember the pie. If it doesn’t work, well hell, you’ll remember the pie anyway, because that’s what this is really all about after all.

So anyway, there was this intimate little gathering here in St. Louis this past weekend. It took place at Tower Grove Park downtown. Like I said, it was small and intimate. Only about 12 gazillion people showed up. Yes, I’m talking about the 16th annual Pagan Picnic.

An event that started all those years ago as a group of Pagans meeting up in the park, progressed to a picnic lunch, and has now morphed into the single largest two day pagan/alternative spirituality festival in the Greater St. Louis area. I try to make it a point to attend each year if my schedule allows, and they always do me up a nice spot in the shade where I can sign books, chat with folks, and even hold a workshop or two. It’s a blast each and every time I go. Just to give you an idea about how much fun this thing is, this year’s guest speakers included Moi, Dorothy Morrison, Mickie Mueller, River Higginbotham (his partner, the lovely Joyce was out of town, unfortunately), Tish Owen, Terry Hinkle, Mike Nichols, Wendy Martin, Don Lewis, and Ellen Dugan, so there was definitely a full ticket. In addition there were musical guests and about a million vendors of all things fine, wonderful, pretty, shiny, funny, wearable, and even edible (no, not wearable and edible like, well, you know, those edible ummm, well… Anyhow, you know what I mean. You could buy a t-shirt, or some meat on a stick. Best 12 inches you’ll ever have… Oh my, this is just getting worse.. Ummm… Back to the pie I think…Damn, that could be taken out of context too… Well, stop it. Get your minds out of the gutter and read along.)

So, back to the G-rated version…The only drawback with the picnic this year was the heat. It was just plain hot, muggy, and whenever there was a breeze, it was also hot and muggy. Plus, it would try to pick up our canopy and make it fly away, but that’s another story. (A legendary story in fact… One they call “Hang Gliding Pagan Authors,” but I’ll let someone else tell that…) Anyway, just to be on the safe side, I have already put in my suggestion for next year to be cooler. I’m sincerely hoping that the organizers manage to talk the parks department into installing air conditioning and sofas before the next picnic. You know, the kind of sofas with the recliner and built in cooler for icy beverages. I could be all about that. Especially if it had pie. (Thought I’d forgotten about the pie didn’t you?)

So…Anyway…Saturday night was what my dear friend “Anastasia the Language Bitch” has officially declared the “Murvmoot”. That being the BBQ and Party at Murv’s house… You know, My house… (BTW, I just officially declared her the language bitch since she speaks like forty gazillion of them, but she doesn’t know about this yet… Imagine her surprise when she finds out her new nickname. Shhhhh… Don’t tell her. I want it to be a surprise… BTW – let me be clear on this, Anastasia is NOT a bitch. It’s a nickname…all in fun…that sort of thing… you know…)

So, on with the double talking -pie- Since we had several out of town guests, including Dorothy Morrison and Tish Owen, -pie- we were set to party. Anastasia and Mike came over, as well as my publicist and bud “Chunkee.” World reknowned artist, Johnathan Minton and his S.O. were in attendance, as well as Patrick Owen, Tobacconist Extraordinaire, and the high exalted poobah of Paganism, Reverend Duane Marhsall and his squeeze, Officer Jackie (Don’t ask. She has a badge and she knows how to use it.)

The evening was ever the blast with much alcohol consumed, followed by many pork steaks, much smoked turkey, cole slaw, tater salad, baked beans, and all the other trimmin’s tossed in there as well. This, of course, was followed by much more alcohol… (No, I didn’t forget….)

Anywho, one of the guests not mentioned above (because he is getting the special mention HERE) happened to be a dear friend and co-founder of the “Murv’s Stalkers” (Yes, that is what they call my official fan club. Yeah. Not kidding. If you are interested in joining, let me know and I’ll put you in touch with them. Or, maybe one of them will put a comment under here with a link or something…) So, to continue… Meester Seitzenheimer (aka just about anything you want to call him) brought along with him a couple of homemade Key lime pies.

He was not aware that Key lime pie is one of my absolute all time favorites.

He is now.

Therefore, I had some seriously kick-a$$ pie this weekend. And, you know what’s even better? The leftovers stayed here. Guess what? I’m gonna go have some more kick-a$$ pie.

See… I told you it was all about the pie.

More to come…

Murv