BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

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

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