BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I read an article a while back. Yes, don’t choke on your cornflakes, I actually do take time to read every now and then. It sort of comes with the whole being a writer thing. But, anyway, this particular article presented a study which ostensibly showed that the gene for red hair is being bred out of the world population at a significant rate. Theoretically, this makes E K kinda rare, what with her being the Queen of the Redheads and all that.

But, I’m not entirely sure I buy their story…

All you have to do is turn on the TV, and there they are. For instance, Lauren from the HP and Windows commercial. Heartthrob of every electronics geek on the face of the planet.

Never mind the fact that she’s actually a card carrying actress for hire, and not just some random, ginger hottie off the street shopping for a computer. That’s another story in and of itself. The point here is, REDHEAD.

There’s another commercial for some manner of portable moving and storage company, or maybe it was even broadband internet – I forget which. At any rate, they show a redhead who is packing a box at a snail’s pace, apparently to prove you don’t need to be in a rush.

Then you have the Target ad. I don’t think they are running it at the moment, but it depicted an entire family of redheads. It was kind of creepy, actually. Almost like the episodes of Millennium dealing with the army of blondes.

Unfortunately, I was unable to locate pictures of those last two, so you’ll just have to take my word for it… Even so, all you need to do is keep flipping through the channels.

Have a look at Desperate Housewives and there you have what? A REDHEAD. I don’t actually watch the show myself, but if I was going to, it would probably be because of the femme fatale on the right. I mean, after all, she’s a redhead, so she attracts quite a bit of attention. Kinda like a stoplight or a firetruck, know what I mean?

Thumb the clicker again and you happen across a rerun of Will and Grace. Voila! REDHEAD.

I actually watched this show. As funny as the two guys were, and even that secretary gal with the voice, I was looking at Debra Messing. Arguably the best reason for watching the show in the first place, in my opinion at least.

As we continue our tour around the dial – back in my day we actually had dials, so count yourself lucky that I’m letting you use the remote – click click and whaddya get? A movie starring a redhead. You can pretty much take your pick here. It could be Reba McEntire – the late Senior Sellars favorite, or maybe Holly Hunter – counted among the not-as-yet-late Junior Sellars faves.

Or what the hell, it could even be Julianne Moore.

So… You can’t escape them. They are everywhere… But, you have an idea. You’ll just pop in a DVD and that will take care of the problem.

Well, maybe not so much…

You snag your Firefly DVD’s off the shelf, select one at random because all of the episodes are more than worth re-watching an infinite number of times, and what do you get? Our Mrs. Reynolds plays across your toob and you end up coming face to face with Christina Hendricks.

Don’t get me wrong. Bumping into Christina Hendricks is not something I would complain about. Hell, I’d probably back up and bump into her again. But remember, right now we are on a mission to escape these supposed rare redheads. These individuals of fiery hair and dubious intent.

Now, obviously, I am leaving out far too many to count. Gillian Anderson, for one. Although I liked her better when she was cute instead of sophisticated. She made the innocent girl next door thing work really well. Tina Louise, anyone? As fond as I am of redheads, I wasn’t much of a Ginger guy. I was all about Mary Ann… Now, make Mary Ann a redhead and… Well… We won’t go there…

Hell, there’s even David Caruso, but I’m not really a fan. Although, I did like it when Ike on Southpark did his impression of Caruso’s career and dove out of the UFO into the snow, but that was pre CSI Miami. Not a big fan of that either.

So… in a last ditch effort to escape this redheaded menace we turn to animated features. Surely with red hair being so rare it shouldn’t show up in cartoons, would it?

Let’s see… Flintstones. Nope, Wilma and Pebbles…

Penelope Pitstop? Nope. Another Redhead…

Scooby Doo? Nope. Daphne. Redhead…

Let’s move on…

Jetsons? Nope. Jane.

How about something with Bugs and the gang? WTF? Yosemite Sam…

Strawberry Shortcake, Jessica Rabbit, The Little Mermaid… Well Crap!

How about something a little more current? Damn… The Family Guy DVD’s won’t work… There’s Lois Griffin decked out in Dominatrix Gear beating the crap out of Peter. Typical for a redhead, of course, but still, there’s the operative issue again. R E D H E A D…

Hmmm… Maybe something Pixarish…

Bang! Elastigirl…

Quick, next movie…

Bang! Beth the Park Ranger…

Swap it out again…

I know, a holiday short… Something Christmasy…

BANG! A redheaded Elf babe…

And guess what? SHE’s the one in charge of Flight Ops for the bearded dude who delivers the presents. Of course. She’s a redhead. She would be in charge now wouldn’t she?

Now, before you start objecting, I know some of you are going to say, “But, Debra Messing was the voice for Beth the Park Ranger and Holly Hunter was the voice for Elastigirl, so that doesn’t count.”

Well, guess what? I’ve seen Martin Lawrence and he looks nothing like a Grizzly Bear, so they were under no obligation to make the animated character a redhead like Messing. Same goes for Hunter.

But they did… Why? Because redheads are everywhere, no matter what they try to tell you with falsified genetic diversity reports from shady scientists. How much would you like to bet those supposed “scientists” who conducted the study are all redheads? Yeah, you’ll want to let it all ride on red, because if they aren’t redheads themselves then they are definitely in the employ of the gingers, guaranteed.

Of course, even when I turn off the TV, throw away the magazines, and burn all the copies of The Red Sonja comic books I can find, I’m not safe, because I have a redhead right here with me.

What’s worse, she is their leader…

So there you have it. Concrete proof that this is all a conspiracy cooked up by my wife and “her kind” to create an even larger “Evil Ginger Army” bent on taking over the world.

If all that’s not enough for you, then how about this little tidbit of intel – It just so happens the ERC (Evil Redhead Coalition) has their meetings right here at my house the third Friday of every month. Of course, E K locks me in the basement so I won’t discover their plans, but I eavesdrop through the air ducts, and what I’ve been hearing is pretty scary…

Evil Redheads… They’re everywhere I tell you… Everywhere…

More to come…

Murv

Yep… You would think that considering the books I pen I would eschew getting myself involved in any more mysteries than are absolutely necessary. After all, making them up, plotting them out, and then attaching them to paper through the use of words should be enough for one guy, correct?

But no… Leave it to me to get myself involved in a murder investigation here at home.

So, let me explain the event leading up to this homicide for you:

I was making one of my daily trips to the library (yes, that would be a euphemism- library, can, throne room, crapper… take your pick.) Anyway, there I am, reading through the latest issue of Missouri Conservationist when over the top edge of the magazine I spy something. At first, I thought nothing of it, but that only lasted a second or two. You know how it is – you see something and it doesn’t quite register at first, but then after a heartbeat or so it smacks your right between the eyes… Well, that’s pretty much what happened. So, lowering the magazine, I took a longer look.

Lo and behold, there on the back corner of the bathtub, not quite covered by the shower curtain, are Barbie and Ken. Now, I’m definitely no prude- if you’ve read the Miranda Trilogy, you know that to be true- however, I have to admit that I blushed. You see, Barbie, in all her curvaceous glory, was grappled with the buff eunuch in a “girl-on-top missionary position”. It was obvious that they had been swimming in the bathtub at some point because Babs’ long, flowing, nylon hair showed signs of having dried without the benefit of combing or detangling. Ken, on the other hand, had little problem in that department, what with the helmet hair and all, but I digress. The point is, putting two and two together told me that after some frolicking in the sudsy surf, the two had apparently become amorous and, well, needed to do some business. Perfectly natural. Basic carnal urges and all that… So, all good…

At any rate, as I said, I blushed, then went back to reading about hummingbird feeders while making it a point to finish the article and all my business associated with the reading of said article a bit more quickly than usual. I mean, I seriously doubted that the two love birds really wanted a spectator, know what I mean? (BTW, due to Ken’s general lack of endowment, I didn’t bother to offer any contraception. I suspected it probably wasn’t needed.)

Okay, so now we fast forward to the next day. Here is where the crime scene comes into play…

As expected, I needed to once again visit the library. Just one of those other natural urges. This time I think I was planning to read the local school district newsletter so I would be up on any bond issues, or things I might need to know which would affect my child’s learning. I pretty much figured Babs and Ken would be done by now, so I was feeling pretty safe in selecting one of the longer articles to read. Of course, as we all know, the best laid plans of mice and Murvs, yadda yadda…

Upon entering the library, naturally my eyes were drawn to the porcelain beachfront where the two fashion dolls had been making out. Not because I am a closet voyeur or anything, I just wanted to be certain they were finished so that I could in fact indulge in reading the lengthy article without feeling rushed. What I saw this time was less a scene from a skin flick and more a horrific tableau from a slasher movie (or, one of my books even…)

Ken’s rigid body was laid out in the very same spot where Babs had been…ummm…uhhh…”mounting” him. However, like I said, it was his body. The poor plastic eunuch’s head was sitting several inches away, quite obviously separated from the rest of his buff plasticness, and it was staring dully at the ceiling.

Well… Being a curious author of suspense thrillers that usually involve some type of gory murder, I felt compelled to investigate further. Using the rolled up newsletter to carefully push back the shower curtain (I didn’t want to disturb evidence like fingerprints you see) I proceeded to check out the surroundings.

Much to my surprise, perched on the ledge of the tile back splash, was Barbie, resplendent in her sparkly blue- and extremely filled out- bathing suit. Her pretty little face, replete with a tasteful touch of eye shadow and pearlescent pink lipstick was tilted in the direction of the carnage. And, moreover, on those pearly pink lips she was wearing that painted on smug grin.

The investigation is proceeding, and so far Babs isn’t saying a word, but I’ve got one of those feelings… You know, the Rowan Gant Twilight Zone knocking on the back of my skull kind.

And, you know what it’s telling me?

Barbie is a Black Widow. Maybe they should have named her, oh, I don’t know… Miranda?

More to come…

Murv